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PRISONERS' EVENING SERVICE.
A SCENE OF THE FRENCH REVOLUTION.[1]
From their spheres
The stars of human glory are cast down;
Perish the roses and the flowers of kings,
Princes and emperors, and the crown and palms
Of all the mighty, withered and consumed!
Nor is power given to lowliest innocence
Long to protect her own.
Wordsworth.
Scene—Prison of the Luxembourg, in Paris, during
the Reign of Terror.
D'Aubigné, an aged Royalist—Blanche, his
Daughter, a young girl.
Blanche. What was our doom, my father?—In thine arms
I lay unconsciously through that dread hour.
- ↑ The last days of two prisoners in the Luxembourg, Sillery and La Source, so affectingly described by Helen Maria Williams, in her Letters from France, gave rise to this little scene. These two victims had composed a simple hymn, which they every night sung together in a low and restrained voice.
