James and Mary Ford, eds. Every Day in the Year. 1902.
July 13Charlotte Corday
By Anonymous
W
And with form of matchless grace,
Wearing yet the modest beauty
Of her childhood in her face?
All her neck and bosom wrap,
And her soft brown hair is hidden
Underneath her Norman cap.
For the fierce and restless throngs,
Who were gathering head for battle,
To avenge her country’s wrongs.
Was the foremost to advance-
She who struck to death the tyrant
Of her well-beloved France.
To perform as she had planned;
Taking thus her life’s sweet promise
In her own presumptuous hand.
With this dangerous subtletry,—
“Evil, surely, is not evil
If a good is gained thereby.
Is not this a righteous deed?
If I save the lives of thousands,
What is it that one should bleed?”
This alone was her reply:
“It was I who did this murder,
And I do not fear to die.”
More than blame, for her we feel—
Hers was noble and heroic,
Though it was mistaken zeal.
Those whose blood for her is shed,
Shall the name of Charlotte Corday
Live among the martyred dead!