On the Place de la Concorde

[Originally called the Place de Louis Seize,—next the Place de

Revolution, where the perpetual guillotine stood.]Proud Seine, along thy winding

Fair smiles yon plain expanding wide,

And, deckt with art and nature's pride,

Seems formed for jocund revelry.

Scene, formed the eye of taste to please!

There splendid domes attention seize,

There, proudly towering, spreading

Arise in beauteous rivalry:….

But there's a place amidst that

Which bids its beauties beam in vain;

Which wakes the inmost soul to pain,

And prompts the throb of agony.

That place by day, lo! numbers fly,

And, shuddering, start to see it nigh;

Who there at midnight breathe the

Of faithful, suffering, loyalty.

While, blending with those loyal sighs,

Oft times the patriot's murmurs rise,

Who thither, hid by darkness, flies,

To mourn the sons of liberty.

Lo! as amidst that plain I stray,

Methinks strange sadness shrouds the day,

And clothed in slaughter's red

Appears the scene of gayety.

For once that spot was dark with blood,

There death's destroying engine stood,

There streamed, alas! the vital

Of all that graced humanity.

Ah! since this fair domain ye chose,

Dread ruffians, for your murderous blows,

Could not the smiling scene

Your hearts to love and charity!

No….horrid contrast! on that

The murderer reared his poniard keen;

There proudly stalked with hideous

The blood-stained sons of anarchy.

Nor,

Gallia, shall thy varied mirth,

Thy store of all that graces earth,

Ere give a kind oblivion

To thy recorded cruelty.

In all thy pomp of charms and power,

Earth can, alas! forget no

The awful guilt that stains thy

With dies of sanguine tyranny,

Than they who see blue lightnings

Can ere forget, though fair they seem,

That danger lurks in every gleam,

And death's appalling agency.