 | The Josephine Gallery |  |
108
CHARLOTTE CORDAY.
Who is this, with calm demeanor,
And with form of matchless grace,
Wearing yet the modest beauty
Of her childhood in her face?
And with form of matchless grace,
Wearing yet the modest beauty
Of her childhood in her face?
Close the white folds of her kerchief
All her neck and bosom wrap,
And her soft brown hair is hidden
Underneath her Norman cap.
All her neck and bosom wrap,
And her soft brown hair is hidden
Underneath her Norman cap.
And what doth she in such garments,
And with such a modest mien,
Here among the high-born beauties
Of the court of Josephine?
And with such a modest mien,
Here among the high-born beauties
Of the court of Josephine?
This is she who left the convent,
For the fierce and restless throngs,
Who were gathering head for battle,
To avenge her country's wrongs.
For the fierce and restless throngs,
Who were gathering head for battle,
To avenge her country's wrongs.
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This is she who to its rescue,
Was the foremost to advance—
She who struck to death the tyrant
Of her well beloved France.
Was the foremost to advance—
She who struck to death the tyrant
Of her well beloved France.
She who had the martyr's spirit
To perform as she had planned;
Taking thus her life's sweet promise
In her own presumptuous hand.
To perform as she had planned;
Taking thus her life's sweet promise
In her own presumptuous hand.
All the while, herself deceiving,
With this dangerous subtletry,
“Evil, surely, is not evil
If a good is gained thereby.
With this dangerous subtletry,
“Evil, surely, is not evil
If a good is gained thereby.
“If I perish for my country,
Is not this a righteous deed?
If I save the lives of thousands,
What is it that one should bleed?”
Is not this a righteous deed?
If I save the lives of thousands,
What is it that one should bleed?”
So, arraigned at the tribunal,
This alone was her reply—
“It was I who did this murder,
And I do not fear to die.”
This alone was her reply—
“It was I who did this murder,
And I do not fear to die.”
Therefore, with her simple garments,
And her unassuming port,
Have they placed her lovely picture
Near the beauties of the Court:
And her unassuming port,
Have they placed her lovely picture
Near the beauties of the Court:
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Therefore pitying admiration,
More than blame for her we feel—
Hers was noble and heroic,
Though it was mistaken zeal.
More than blame for her we feel—
Hers was noble and heroic,
Though it was mistaken zeal.
And so long as France shall honor
Those whose blood for her is shed,
Shall the name of Charlotte Corday
Live among the martyred dead!
Those whose blood for her is shed,
Shall the name of Charlotte Corday
Live among the martyred dead!
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