The New Hampshire Gazette

Some Verses said to have been composed by Maria Antoinette, as preparatory to her death, occasioned the following effusions of compassion and regret.

Merciful Heaven!

Thou, rather with thy sharp and sulph'rous bolt,
Split'st the unwedgeable and gnarled oak,
Than the soft myrtle. But Man, vain Man!
Dress'd in a little brief authority,
Most ignorant of what he's most assur'd,
Plays such fantastic tricks before high heaven,
As make the Angels weep.

SHAKESPEARE.
The Captive Queen.

"What Seraph calls me? Sure I hear--"

"'Tis madness all, or wild despair,
"When echo round the weeping Dome
"Responsive warns the Sufferer home."

To Child of Sorrow, not for thee
Yond tomb unfolds its marble vest,
And bears its deeply cavern'd breast,
Where calm unconscious slumbers reign,
Blest opiates of the bosom's pain!
From whose oblivious draught restor'd,
Supremely soars thy martyr'd Lord;
Triumphs o'er Fate and smiles on Victory.

Child of Theresa! bravely dare
To earth thy great example give,
Scorn the black mandate of Despair,
Defy his dart, and dare to live;
Tho' on thy breast of alpine snow,
The tears of burning anguish flow,
And foil'd in dust, those locks are found,
Which erst a kneeling nation bound;
Those eyes in fearful frenzy roll,
Where beam'd the splendor of the soul:
Or fix'd and dim with leaden care,
The widening orbs forget to move,
And to the midnight of despair,
Resign those liquid lamps of love.
Tho' on thy cheek's delicious glow,
Grief's desolating tempests blow,
And rule with unresisted sway,
And tear each with'ring charm away,
Yet shall thy soul transcendent shine;
Unsoil'd by the impious hand,
Yet an enlighten'd world command,
And round thy brows unfading chaplets twine.

Bright heirs of THERESA's fame,
Offspring of many a troubled throne.*
Who like the gem of morning shone,
A Daughter, Sister, Wife of Kings,
From whom an infant Monarch springs,
That by hereditary claim,
Will many a suffering virtue share,
Recall thy long imperial line,
Assume the energy divine,
Of HER whose angel form you bear.

THOU who in triple chains could bind
The full dominion of the mind!
By BEAUTY's magic empire move
The pulses of the soul to love,
And with the MIND's resistless ray,
Bear ev'ry dazzled sense away,
Or from thy SCEPTER'D STATE impart
Allegiance to the homag'd heart.

Now unheeded, lost, alone,
The desolated charmer lies,
Startling as the frequent groan
Round the haunted turret flies.
Pent within the tragic tower,
At dim midnight's sullen hour,
As the broken slumbers roll
Poisons round thy numbing soul
And with suffocated breath,
Bear thee to the scene of death,
Where the royal victim fell--
Glutting ev'ry fiend of hell,
While the Brood of Murder, bore
Trophies from his dropping gore--
When thy gaping senses lie
Fetter'd with insanity,
Thy limbs in struggling anguish toss,
And all thy fine perceptions lost,

"Till the morning's dubious ray
Sheds the chilling tear of day,
And the quiv'ring phantoms fall
Down the deep embattled wall,
Piercing with disastrous light,
Through the pinions of the night,
When the tocsin's deadly knell
Flings its petrifying spell,
And rush'd question, sadly wild,
Clings each agonizing child,
Weeping in the guarded tomb
Where its infant days consume;
When the trumpet's blast extends.
and the iron gripe of power
Thy convulsive bosom rends,
Till its torpid streams dispense
Horror to the freezing sense,
And the curse of life restore:
Then restrain thy desperate hand
Then thy starting soul command,
Ere the Scene of Ruin close
Triumph in unbounded woes;
To Fame's far heights with mind unvanquish'd soar,
And teach creation's myriads to adore.

Thus some fair Pile--in Egypt's arid vale,
Tho' noxious winds, & smothering sands assail,
No blast pollutes, no fervid sun appalls,
Till min'd by time the beauteous fabric falls,
O'erthrown,not lost, its peerless Form displays,
Of Art the Model, and of Realms the Praise.

PHILENIA.

* See the history of the House of Austria.

"The people dipped their pikes and buttons in the blood of Louis."

Santerre to National Convention.

It is by the tremendous toll of the Tocsin that the multitude are called to murder and desolation.
See an account of the second and third of September.