# The French Revolution

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* THE FRENCH REVOLUTION. A POEM, IN SEVEN BOOKS.
* BOOK THE FIRST.
* LONDON: Printed for J. Johnson, No 72,
* St Paul's Church-yard. MDCCXCI.
* {Price One Shilling.}
* PAGE [iii]
* ADVERTISEMENT.
* The remaining Books of this Poem are finished, and will be published in their Order.
* PAGE [1]
* THE FRENCH REVOLUTION.
* Book the First.
* The dead brood over Europe, the cloud and vision descends over chearful France;
* O cloud well appointed! Sick, sick: the Prince on his couch, wreath'd in dim
* And appalling mist; his strong hand outstretch'd, from his shoulder down the bone
* Runs aching cold into the scepter too heavy for mortal grasp. No more
* To be swayed by visible hand, nor in cruelty bruise the mild flourishing mountains. <5>
* Sick the mountains, and all their vineyards weep, in the eyes of the kingly mourner;
* Pale is the morning cloud in his visage. Rise, Necker: the ancient dawn calls us
* To awake from slumbers of five thousands years. I awake, but my soul is in dreams;
* From my window I see the old mountains of France, like aged men, fading away.
* Troubled, leaning on Necker, descends the King, to his chamber of council; shady mountains <10>
* In fear utter voices of thunder; the woods of France embosom the sound;
* Clouds of wisdom prophetic reply, and roll over the palace roof heavy,
* Forty men: each conversing with woes in the infinite shadows of his soul,
* Like our ancient fathers in regions of twilight, walk, gathering round the King;
* Again the loud voice of France cries to the morning, the morning prophecies to its clouds. <15>
* For the Commons convene in the Hall of the Nation. France shakes! And the heavens of France
* Perplex'd vibrate round each careful countenance! Darkness of old times around them
* Utters loud despair, shadowing Paris; her grey towers groan, and the Bastile trembles.
* In its terrible towers the Governor stood, in dark fogs list'ning the horror;
* A thousand his soldiers, old veterans of France, breathing red clouds of power and dominion, <20>
* Sudden seiz'd with howlings, despair, and black night, he stalk'd like a lion from tower
* To tower, his howlings were heard in the Louvre; from court to court restless he dragg'd
* His strong limbs; from court to court curs'd the fierce torment unquell'd,
* Howling and giving the dark command; in his soul stood the purple plague,
* Tugging his iron manacles, and piercing through the seven towers dark and sickly, <25>
* Panting over the prisoners like a wolf gorg'd; and the den nam'd Horror held a man
* Chain'd hand and foot, round his neck an iron band, bound to the impregnable wall.
* In his soul was the serpent coil'd round in his heart, hid from the light, as in a cleft rock;
* And the man was confin'd for a writing prophetic: in the tower nam'd Darkness, was a man
* Pinion'd down to the stone floor, his strong bones scarce cover'd with sinews; the iron rings <30>
* Were forg'd smaller as the flesh decay'd, a mask of iron on his face hid the lineaments
* PAGE 3
* Of ancient Kings, and the frown of the eternal lion was hid from the oppressed earth.
* In the tower named Bloody, a skeleton yellow remained in its chains on its couch
* Of stone, once a man who refus'd to sign papers of abhorrence; the eternal worm
* Crept in the skeleton. In the den nam'd Religion, a loathsome sick woman, bound down <35>
* To a bed of straw; the seven diseases of earth, like birds of prey, stood on the couch,
* And fed on the body. She refus'd to be whore to the Minister, and with a knife smote him.
* In the tower nam'd Order, an old man, whose white beard cover'd the stone floor like weeds
* On margin of the sea, shrivel'd up by heat of day and cold of night; his den was short
* And narrow as a grave dug for a child, with spiders webs wove, and with slime <40>
* Of ancient horrors cover'd, for snakes and scorpions are his companions; harmless they breathe
* His sorrowful breath: he, by conscience urg'd, in the city of Paris rais'd a pulpit,
* And taught wonders to darken'd souls. In the den nam'd Destiny a strong man sat,
* His feet and hands cut off, and his eyes blinded; round his middle a chain and a band
* Fasten'd into the wall; fancy gave him to see an image of despair in his den, <45>
* Eternally rushing round, like a man on his hands and knees, day and night without rest.
* He was friend to the favourite. In the seventh tower, nam'd the tower of God, was a man
* Mad, with chains loose, which he dragg'd up and down; fed with hopes year by year, he pined
* For liberty; vain hopes: his reason decay'd, and the world of attraction in his bosom
* Center'd, and the rushing of chaos overwhelm'd his dark soul. He was confin'd <50>
* For a letter of advice to a King, and his ravings in winds are heard over Versailles.
* But the dens shook and trembled, the prisoners look up and assay to shout; they listen,
* Then laugh in the dismal den, then are silent, and a light walks round the dark towers.
* PAGE 4
* For the Commons convene in the Hall of the Nation; like spirits of fire in the beautiful
* Porches of the Sun, to plant beauty in the desart craving abyss, they gleam <55>
* On the anxious city; all children new-born first behold them; tears are fled,
* And they nestle in earth-breathing bosoms. So the city of Paris, their wives and children,
* Look up to the morning Senate, and visions of sorrow leave pensive streets.
* But heavy brow'd jealousies lower o'er the Louvre, and terrors of ancient Kings
* Descend from the gloom and wander thro' the palace, and weep round the King and his Nobles. <60>
* While loud thunders roll, troubling the dead, Kings are sick throughout all the earth,
* The voice ceas'd: the Nation sat: And the triple forg'd fetters of times were unloos'd.
* The voice ceas'd: the Nation sat: but ancient darkness and trembling wander thro' the palace.
* As in day of havock and routed battle, among thick shades of discontent,
* On the soul-skirting mountains of sorrow cold waving: the Nobles fold round the King, <65>
* Each stern visage lock'd up as with strong bands of iron, each strong limb bound down as with marble,
* In flames of red wrath burning, bound in astonishment a quarter of an hour.
* Then the King glow'd: his Nobles fold round, like the sun of old time quench'd in clouds;
* In their darkness the King stood, his heart flam'd, and utter'd a with'ring heat, and these words burst forth:
* The nerves of five thousand years ancestry tremble, shaking the heavens of France; <70>
* Throbs of anguish beat on brazen war foreheads, they descend and look into their graves.
* PAGE 5
* I see thro' darkness, thro' clouds rolling round me, the spirits of ancient Kings
* Shivering over their bleached bones; round them their counsellors look up from the dust,
* Crying: Hide from the living! Our b[a]nds and our prisoners shout in the open field,
* Hide in the nether earth! Hide in the bones! Sit obscured in the hollow scull. <75>
* Our flesh is corrupted, and we [wear] away. We are not numbered among the living. Let us hide
* In stones, among roots of trees. The prisoners have burst their dens,
* Let us hide; let us hide in the dust; and plague and wrath and tempest shall cease.
* He ceas'd, silent pond'ring, his brows folded heavy, his forehead was in affliction,
* Like the central fire: from the window he saw his vast armies spread over the hills, <80>
* Breathing red fires from man to man, and from horse to horse; then his bosom
* Expanded like starry heaven, he sat down: his Nobles took their ancient seats.
* Then the ancientest Peer, Duke of Burgundy, rose from the Monarch's right hand, red as wines
* From his mountains, an odor of war, like a ripe vineyard, rose from his garments,
* And the chamber became as a clouded sky; o'er the council he stretch'd his red limbs, <85>
* Cloth'd in flames of crimson, as a ripe vineyard stretches over sheaves of corn,
* The fierce Duke hung over the council; around him croud, weeping in his burning robe,
* A bright cloud of infant souls; his words fall like purple autumn on the sheaves.
* Shall this marble built heaven become a clay cottage, this earth an oak stool, and these mowers
* From the Atlantic mountains, mow down all this great starry harvest of six thousand years? <90>
* And shall Necker, the hind of Geneva, stretch out his crook'd sickle o'er fertile France,
* PAGE 6 (FIRST PORTION)
* Till our purple and crimson is faded to russet, and the kingdoms of earth bound in sheaves,
* And the ancient forests of chivalry hewn, and the joys of the combat burnt for fuel;
* Till the power and dominion is rent from the pole, sword and scepter from sun and moon,
* The law and gospel from fire and air, and eternal reason and science <95>
* From the deep and the solid, and man lay his faded head down on the rock
* Of eternity, where the eternal lion and eagle remain to devour?
* This to prevent, urg'd by cries in day, and prophetic dreams hovering in night,
* To enrich the lean earth that craves, furrow'd with plows; whose seed is departing from her;
* Thy Nobles have gather'd thy starry hosts round this rebellious city, <100>
* To rouze up the ancient forests of Europe, with clarions of cloud breathing war;
* To hear the horse neigh to the drum and trumpet, and the trumpet and war shout reply;
* Stretch the hand that beckons the eagles of heaven; they cry over Paris, and wait
* Till Fayette point his finger to Versailles; the eagles of heaven must have their prey.
* The King lean'd on his mountains, then lifted his head and look'd on his armies, that shone <105>
* Through heaven, tinging morning with beams of blood, then turning to Burgundy troubled:
* PAGE 7 (FIRST PORTION)
* Burgundy, thou wast born a lion! My soul is o'ergrown with distress
* For the Nobles of France, and dark mists roll round me and blot the writing of God
* Written in my bosom. Necker rise, leave the kingdom, thy life is surrounded with snares;
* We have call'd an Assembly, but not to destroy; we have given gifts, not to the weak; <110>
* I hear rushing of muskets, and bright'ning of swords, and visages redd'ning with war,
* Frowning and looking up from brooding villages and every dark'ning city;
* Ancient wonders frown over the kingdom, and cries of women and babes are heard,
* And tempests of doubt roll around me, and fierce sorrows, because of the Nobles of France;
* Depart, answer not, for the tempest must fall, as in years that are passed away. <115>
* PAGE 6 (SECOND PORTION)
* He ceas'd, and burn'd silent, red clouds roll round Necker, a weeping is heard o'er the palace;
* Like a dark cloud Necker paus'd, and like thunder on the just man's burial day he paus'd;
* Silent sit the winds, silent the meadows, while the husbandman and woman of weakness
* And bright children look after him into the grave, and water his clay with love,
* Then turn towards pensive fields; so Necker paus'd, and his visage was cover'd with clouds. <120>
* PAFE 7 (SECOND PORTION)
* Dropping a tear the old man his place left, and when he was gone out
* He set his face toward Geneva to flee, and the women and children of the city
* Kneel'd round him and kissed his garments and wept; he stood a short space in the street,
* Then fled; and the whole city knew he was fled to Geneva, and the Senate heard it.
* But the Nobles burn'd wrathful at Necker's departure, and wreath'd their clouds and waters <125>
* In dismal volumes; as risen from beneath the Archbishop of Paris arose,
* In the rushing of scales and hissing of flames and rolling of sulphurous smoke.
* Hearken, Monarch of France, to the terrors of heaven, and let thy soul drink of my counsel;
* Sleeping at midnight in my golden tower, the repose of the labours of men
* Wav'd its solemn cloud over my head. I awoke; a cold hand passed over my limbs, and behold <130>
* An aged form, white as snow, hov'ring in mist, weeping in the uncertain light,
* PAGE 8
* Dim the form almost faded, tears fell down the shady cheeks; at his feet many cloth'd
* In white robes, strewn in air sensers and harps, silent they lay prostrated;
* Beneath, in the awful void, myriads descending and weeping thro' dismal winds,
* Endless the shady train shiv'ring descended, from the gloom where the aged form wept. <135>
* At length, trembling, the vision sighing, in a low voice, like the voice of the grasshopper whisper'd:
* My groaning is heard in the abbeys, and God, so long worshipp'd, departs as a lamp
* Without oil; for a curse is heard hoarse thro' the land, from a godless race
* Descending to beasts; they look downward and labour and forget my holy law;
* The sound of prayer fails from lips of flesh, and the holy hymn from thicken'd tongues; <140>
* For the bars of Chaos are burst; her millions prepare their fiery way
* Thro' the orbed abode of the holy dead, to root up and pull down and remove,
* And Nobles and Clergy shall fail from before me, and my cloud and vision be no more;
* The mitre become black, the crown vanish, and the scepter and ivory staff
* Of the ruler wither among bones of death; thy shall consume from the thistly field, <145>
* And the sound of the bell, and voice of the sabbath, and singing of the holy choir,
* Is turn'd into songs of the harlot in day, and cries of the virgin in night.
* They shall drop at the plow and faint at the harrow, unredeem'd, unconfess'd, unpardon'd;
* The priest rot in his surplice by the lawless lover, the holy beside the accursed,
* The King, frowning in purple, beside the grey plowman, and their worms embrace together. <150>
* The voice ceas'd, a groan shook my chamber; I slept, for the cloud of repose returned,
* But morning dawn'd heavy upon me. I rose to bring my Prince heaven utter'd counsel.
* Hear my counsel, O King, and send forth thy Generals, the command of heaven is upon thee;
* Then do thou command, O King, to shut up this Assembly in their final home;
* PAGE 9
* Let thy soldiers possess this city of rebels, that threaten to bathe their feet <155>
* In the blood of Nobility; trampling the heart and the head; let the Bastile devour
* These rebellious seditious; seal them up, O Anointed, in everlasting chains.
* He sat down, a damp cold pervaded the Nobles, and monsters of worlds unknown
* Swam round them, watching to be delivered; When Aumont, whose chaos-born soul
* Eternally wand'ring a Comet and swift-failing fire, pale enter'd the chamber; <160>
* Before the red Council he stood, like a man that returns from hollow graves.
* Awe surrounded, alone thro' the army a fear ad a with'ring blight blown by the north;
* The Abbe de Seyes from the Nation's Assembly. O Princes and Generals of France
* Unquestioned, unhindered, awe-struck are the soldiers; a dark shadowy man in the form
* Of King Henry the Fourth walks before him in fires, the captains like men bound in chains <165>
* Stood still as he pass'd, he is come to the Louvre, O King, with a message to thee;
* The strong soldiers tremble, the horses their manes bow, and the guards of thy palace are fled.
* Up rose awful in his majestic beams Bourbon's strong Duke; his proud sword from his thigh
* Drawn, he threw on the Earth! the Duke of Bretagne and the Earl of Borgogne
* Rose inflam'd, to and fro in the chamber, like thunder-clouds ready to burst. <170>
* What damp all our fires, O spectre of Henry, said Bourbon; and rend the flames
* From the head of our King! Rise, Monarch of France; command me, and I will lead
* This army of superstition at large, that the ardor of noble souls quenchless,
* May yet burn in France, nor our shoulders be plow'd with the furrows of poverty.
* PAGE 10
* Then Orleans generous as mountains arose, and unfolded his robe, and put forth <175>
* His benevolent hand, looking on the Archbishop, who changed as pale as lead;
* Would have risen but could not, his voice issued harsh grating; instead of words harsh hissings
* Shook the chamber; he ceas'd abash'd. Then Orleans spoke, all was silent,
* He breath'd on them, and said, O princes of fire, whose flames are for growth not consuming,
* Fear not dreams, fear not visions, nor be you dismay'd with sorrows which flee at the morning; <180>
* Can the fires of Nobility ever be quench'd, or the stars by a stormy night?
* Is the body diseas'd when the members are healthful? can the man be bound in sorrow
* Whose ev'ry function is fill'd with its fiery desire? can the soul whose brain and heart
* Cast their rivers in equal tides thro' the great Paradise, languish because the feet
* Hands, head, bosom, and parts of love, follow their high breathing joy? <185>
* And can Nobles be bound when the people are free, or God weep when his children are happy?
* Have you never seen Fayette's forehead, or Mirabeau's eyes, or the shoulders of Target,
* Or Bailly he strong foot of France, or Clermont the terrible voice, and your robes
* Still retain their own crimson? mine never yet faded, for fire delights in its form.
* But go, merciless man! enter into the infinite labyrinth of another's brain <190>
* Ere thou measure the circle that he shall run. Go, thou cold recluse, into the fires
* Of another's high flaming rich bosom, and return unconsum'd, and write laws.
* If thou canst not do this, doubt thy theories, learn to consider all men as thy equals,
* Thy brethren, and not as thy foot or thy hand, unless thou first fearest to hurt them.
* The Monarch stood up, the strong Duke his sword to its golden scabbard return'd, <195>
* The Nobles sat round like clouds on the mountains, when the storm is passing away.
* PAGE 11
* Let the Nation's Ambassador come among Nobles, like incense of the valley.
* Aumont went out and stood in the hollow porch, his ivory wand in his hand;
* A cold orb of disdain revolv'd round him, and covered his soul with snows eternal.
* Great Henry's soul shuddered, a whirlwind and fire tore furious from his angry bosom; <200>
* He indignant departed on horses of heav'n. Then the Abbe de Seyes rais'd his feet
* On the steps of the Louvre, like a voice of God following a storm, the Abbe follow'd
* The pale fires of Aumont into the chamber, as a father that bows to his son;
* Whose rich fields inheriting spread their old glory, so the voice of the people bowed
* Before the ancient seat of the kingdom and mountains to be renewed. <205>
* Hear, O Heavens of France, the voice of the people, arising from valley and hill,
* O'erclouded with power. Hear the voice of vallies, the voice of meek cities,
* Mourning oppressed on village and field, till the village and field is a waste.
* For the husbandman weeps at blights of the fife, and blasting of trumpets consume
* The souls of mild France; the pale mother nourishes her child to the deadly slaughter. <210>
* When the heavens were seal'd with a stone, and the terrible sun clos'd in an orb, and the moon
* Rent from the nations, and each star appointed for watchers of night,
* The millions of spirits immortal were bound in the ruins of sulphur heaven
* To wander inslav'd; black, deprest in dark ignorance, kept in awe with the whip,
* To worship terrors, bred from the blood of revenge and breath of desire, <215>
* In beastial forms; or more terrible men, till the dawn of our peaceful morning,
* Till dawn, till morning, till the breaking of clouds, and swelling of winds, and the universal voice,
* PAGE 12
* Till man raise his darken'd limbs out of the caves of night, his eyes and his heart
* Expand: where is space! where O Sun is thy dwelling! where thy tent, O faint slumb'rous Moon,
* Then the valleys of France shall cry to the soldier, throw down thy sword and musket, <220>
* And run and embrace the meek peasant. Her nobles shall hear and shall weep, and put off
* The red robe of terror, the crown of oppression, the shoes of contempt, and unbuckle
* The girdle of war from the desolate earth; then the Priest in his thund'rous cloud
* Shall weep, bending to earth embracing the valleys, and putting his hand to the plow,
* Shall say, no more I curse thee; but now I will bless thee: No more in deadly black <225>
* Devour thy labour; nor lift up a cloud in thy heavens, O laborious plow,
* That the wild raging millions, that wander in forests, and howl in law blasted wastes,
* Strength madden'd with slavery, honesty, bound in the dens of superstition,
* May sing in the village, and shout in the harvest, and woo in pleasant gardens,
* Their once savage loves, now beaming with knowledge, with gentle awe adorned; <230>
* And the saw, and the hammer, the chisel, the pencil, the pen, and the instruments
* Of heavenly song sound in the wilds once forbidden, to teach the laborious plowman
* And shepherd deliver'd from clouds of war, from pestilence, from night-fear, from murder,
* From falling, from stifling, from hunger, from cold, from slander, discontent and sloth;
* That walk in beasts and birds of night, driven back by the sandy desart <235>
* Like pestilent fogs round cities of men: and the happy earth sing in its course,
* The mild peaceable nations be opened to heav'n, and men walk with their fathers in bliss.
* Then hear the first voice of the morning: Depart, O clouds of night, and no more
* Return; be withdrawn cloudy war, troops of warriors depart, nor around our peaceable city
* Breathe fires, but ten miles from Paris, let all be peace, nor a soldier be seen. <240>
* PAGE 13
* He ended; the wind of contention arose and the clouds cast their shadows, the Princes
* Like the mountains of France, whose aged trees utter an awful voice, and their branches
* Are shatter'd, till gradual a murmur is heard descending into the valley,
* Like a voice in the vineyards of Burgundy, when grapes are shaken on grass;
* Like the low voice of the labouring man, instead of the shout of joy; <245>
* And the palace appear'd like a cloud driven abroad; blood ran down, the ancient pillars,
* Thro' the cloud a deep thunder, the Duke of Burgundy, delivers the King's command.
* Seest thou yonder dark castle, that moated around, keeps this city of Paris in awe.
* Go command yonder tower, saying, Bastile depart, and take thy shadowy course.
* Overstep the dark river, thou terrible tower, and get thee up into the country ten miles. <250>
* And thou black southern prison, move along the dusky road to Versailles; there
* Frown on the gardens, and if it obey and depart, then the King will disband
* This war-breathing army; but if it refuse, let the Nation's Assembly thence learn,
* That this army of terrors, that prison of horrors, are the bands of the murmuring kingdom.
* Like the morning star arising above the black waves, when a shipwreck'd soul sighs for morning, <255>
* Thro' the ranks, silent, walk'd the Ambassador back to the Nation's Assembly, and told
* The unwelcome message; silent they heard; then a thunder roll'd round loud and louder,
* Like pillars of ancient halls, and ruins of times remote they sat.
* Like a voice from the dim pillars Mirabeau rose; the thunders subsided away;
* PAGE 14
* A rushing of wings around him was heard as he brighten'd, and cried out aloud, <260>
* Where is the General of the Nation? the walls reecho'd: Where is the General of the Nation?
* Sudden as the bullet wrapp'd in his fire, when brazen cannons rage in the field,
* Fayette sprung from his seat saying, Ready! then bowing like clouds, man toward man, the Assembly
* Like a council of ardors seated in clouds, bending over the cities of men,
* And over the armies of strife, where their children are marshall'd together to battle; <265>
* They murmuring divide, while the wind sleeps beneath, and the numbers are counted in silence,
* While they vote the removal of War, and the pestilence weighs his red wings in the sky.
* So Fayette stood silent among the Assembly, and the votes were given and the numbers numb'red;
* And the vote was, that Fayette should order the army to remove ten miles from Paris.
* The aged sun rises appall'd from dark mountains, and gleams a dusky beam <270>
* On Fayette, but on the whole army a shadow, for a cloud on the eastern hills
* Hover'd, and stretch'd across the city and across the army, and across the Louvre,
* Like a flame of fire he stood before dark ranks, and before expecting captains
* On pestilent vapours around him flow frequent spectres of religious men weeping
* In winds driven out of the abbeys, their naked souls shiver in keen open air, <275>
* Driven out by the fiery cloud of Voltaire, and thund'rous rocks of Rousseau,
* They dash like foam against the ridges of the army, uttering a faint feeble cry.
* PAGE 15
* Gleams of fire streak the heavens, and of sulpur the earth, from Fayette as he lifted his hand;
* But silent he stood, till all the officers rush round him like waves
* Round the shore of France, in day of the British flag, when heavy cannons <280>
* Affright the coasts, and the peasant looks over the sea and wipes a tear;
* Over his head the soul of Voltaire shone fiery, and over the army Rousseau his white cloud
* Unfolded, on souls of war-living terrors silent list'ning toward Fayette,
* His voice loud inspir'd by liberty, and by spirits of the dead, thus thunder'd.
* The Nation's Assembly command, that the Army remove ten miles from Paris; <285>
* Nor a soldier be seen in road or in field, till the Nation command return.
* Rushing along iron ranks glittering the officers each to his station
* Depart, and the stern captain strokes his proud steed, and in front of his solid ranks
* Waits the sound of trumpet; captains of foot stand each by his cloudy drum;
* Then the drum beats, and the steely ranks move, and trumpets rejoice in the sky. <290>
* Dark cavalry like clouds fraught with thunder ascend on the hills, and bright infantry, rank
* Behind rank, to the soul shaking drum and shrill fife along the roads glitter like fire.
* The noise of trampling, the wind of trumpets, smote the palace walls with a blast.
* Pale and cold sat the king in midst of his peers, and his noble heart stink, and his pulses
* Suspended their motion, a darkness crept over his eye-lids, and chill cold sweat <295>
* Sat round his brows faded in faint death, his peers pale like mountains of the dead,
* Cover'd with dews of night, groaning, shaking forests and floods. The cold newt
* PAGE 16
* And snake, and damp toad, on the kingly foot crawl, or croak on the awful knee,
* Shedding their slime, in folds of the robe the crown'd adder builds and hisses
* From stony brows; shaken the forests of France, sick the kings of the nations, <300>
* And the bottoms of the world were open'd, and the graves of arch-angels unseal'd;
* The enormous dead, lift up their pale fires and look over the rocky cliffs.
* A faint heat from their fires reviv'd the cold Louvre; the frozen blood reflow'd.
* Awful up rose the king, him the peers follow'd, they saw the courts of the Palace
* Forsaken, and Paris without a soldier, silent, for the noise was gone up <305>
* And follow'd the army, and the Senate in peace, sat beneath morning's beam.
* END OF THE FIRST BOOK.
* [No further books are extant.]
* 1791
This work was published before January 1, 1929, and is in the public domain worldwide because the author died at least 100 years ago.
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