Beauty is scarlet attire -

In her hand the flag of revolution.

Fire on her lips

Setting blaze to institution.

Dancing through the angry mobs,

Pulling down the old,

Sweet Liberty cried out to Heaven

From the earth so cold.

"Hear the cry of my children

For freedom in the streets.

Behold the throb of growing pain

In every heart that beats.

The masks they wear are binding them -

Such chains for written word!

How much longer can it last?

How much more can be endured?

Their eyes long to see heaven -

The grace of glorious light.

Come triumphant angels,

And join the common man's plight!"

Liberty's plea was cried in vain

Though the Angels mourned among the slain.

Blind Justice came before those walls

With solemn heart and face -

Immortal sight therein her eyes.

She graced that cursed place

In Purity's stainless robes.

Then spake the woman great:

"Behold, the pattern of this world

Is filled with crim and hate!

Who shall recall the foreign guard

Or the vetran feeble boned?

Who shall mourn the loss of life

Of even he enthroned?

They will never be appeased

Who shall end the bloody flow?

Death leads ever more to death,

This yourselves do know!"

Then Justice stole out likeatheif

While the Angels stood in silent grief.

Above the carnage of man's war

They perched on broken wall.

Then the Phantom black and cold

Appeared as in man's fall.

"Peace, Sisters, know you not

That these men belong to me?

For themselves they sealed this fate

At the mortal tree.

Through bleared eyes they see us now -

The clock is striking for their hour.

Misfortune's table holds their names

Bathed in the crimson shower.

I begin the harvest now -

Long shall the season be.

In the wavering eye of fate,

All paths lead to me!"

Good men sank in the mire and mud,

And the Angels of Bastille wept tears of blood.