 | Imaginary Sonnets |  |
92
GASPARD DUCHATEL TO THE CONVENTION.
(1793.)
See, here I am. I leave my dying bed
To give my vote, if I be still in time,
O ye who now are dooming one whose crime
Is only that a crown was on his head!
To give my vote, if I be still in time,
O ye who now are dooming one whose crime
Is only that a crown was on his head!
Spare him, I tell you. Let it not be said
That this young Freedom wallowed in a slime
Of blood and mud, and that the guiltless climb
The guillotine to dye our standards red.
That this young Freedom wallowed in a slime
Of blood and mud, and that the guiltless climb
The guillotine to dye our standards red.
I who am dying come to vote for life,
And hear a sea of hatred roaring high
Around a single head. The air is rife
And hear a sea of hatred roaring high
Around a single head. The air is rife
With fear and hate. Ye cowards, vote as I,
Or on yourselves will fall the broad black knife.
I come to vote for mercy, and to die.
Or on yourselves will fall the broad black knife.
I come to vote for mercy, and to die.
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