To Camille Desmoulins

TO CAMILLE DESMOULINS

1 Hark! Once again we seem to hear thy words, | And of their magic, ages yet shall tell. | Then was a ruthless system dashed to sherds, | As that grim pile, the hated Bastile, fell. | From thy wild speech came Liberty to France, | First gleam of dawn to end the Feudal night;

| We hear the red-capp'd, wooden-shoed ones dance, §

1 The maddened cries that hailed the coming light. 1 Thy words still echo on from tongue to tongue, | France leaps to arms to meet tyrannic foes, | Across the world a battle line is flung, | The heart of patriots with courage glows: 1

We see thy ghost, dead hero, in the van, "The Declaration of the Rights of Man!"

| Alfred Lambowme 1

THE BASTILE

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