_Barrere mounts the Tribune._ For ever hallowed be this glorious day, 160 When Freedom, bursting her oppressive chain, Tramples on the oppressor. When the tyrant Hurl'd from his blood-cemented throne, by the arm Of the almighty people, meets the death He plann'd for thousands. Oh! my sickening heart 165 Has sunk within me, when the various woes Of my brave country crowded o'er my brain In ghastly numbers--when assembled hordes, Dragg'd from their hovels by despotic power, Rush'd o'er her frontiers, plunder'd her fair hamlets, 170 And sack'd her populous towns, and drench'd with blood The reeking fields of Flanders.--When within, Upon her vitals prey'd the rankling tooth Of treason; and oppression, giant form, Trampling on freedom, left the alternative 175 Of slavery, or of death. Even from that day, When, on the guilty Capet, I pronounced The doom of injured France, has faction reared Her hated head amongst us. Roland preach'd Of mercy--the uxorious dotard Roland, 180 The woman-govern'd Roland durst aspire To govern France; and Petion talk'd of virtue, And Vergniaud's eloquence, like the honeyed tongue Of some soft Syren wooed us to destruction. We triumphed over these. On the same scaffold 185 Where the last Louis pour'd his guilty blood, Fell Brissot's head, the womb of darksome treasons, And Orleans, villain kinsman of the Capet, And Hébert's atheist crew, whose maddening hand Hurl'd down the altars of the living God, 190 With all the infidel's intolerance. The last worst traitor triumphed--triumph'd long, Secur'd by matchless villainy--by turns Defending and deserting each accomplice As interest prompted. In the goodly soil 195 Of Freedom, the foul tree of treason struck Its deep-fix'd roots, and dropt the dews of death On all who slumber'd in its specious shade. He wove the web of treachery. He caught The listening crowd by his wild eloquence, 200 His cool ferocity that persuaded murder, Even whilst it spake of mercy!--never, never Shall this regenerated country wear The despot yoke. Though myriads round assail, And with worse fury urge this new crusade 205 Than savages have known; though the leagued despots Depopulate all Europe, so to pour The accumulated mass upon our coasts, Sublime amid the storm shall France arise, And like the rock amid surrounding waves 210 Repel the rushing ocean.--She shall wield The thunder-bolt of vengeance--she shall blast The despot's pride, and liberate the world! FINIS OSORIO A TRAGEDY[518:1] DRAMATIS PERSONAE [_Not in MSS._]