much known to him as if I were the single object of his attention; that he marks all my thoughts; that he gives birth to every feeling and every movement within me; and that, with an exercise of power which I can neither describe nor comprehend, the same God, who sits in the highest heaven, and reigns over the glories of the firmament, is at my right hand, to give me every breath which I draw, and every comfort which I enjoy.

LESSON CXLIV.

Rome.-BYRON.

O ROME! my country! city of the soul!
The orphans of the heart must turn to thee,
Lone mother of dead empires, and control
In their shut breasts their petty misery.

What are our woes and sufferance? Come and see
The cypress, hear the owl, and plod your way
O'er steps of broken thrones and temples; ye,
Whose agonies are evils of à day—

A world is at our feet as fragile as our clay.

The Niobe of nations! there she stands,
Childless and crownless, in her voiceless wo;
An empty urn within her withered hands,
Whose holy dust was scattered long ago;
The Scipios' tomb contains no ashes now;
The very sepulchres lie tenantless

Of their heroic dwellers. Dost thou flow,
Old Tiber, through a marble wilderness?

Rise, with thy yellow waves, and mantle her distress!

The Goth, the Christian, Time, War, Flood and Fire,
Have dealt upon the seven-hilled city's pride;

She saw her glories, star by star, expire,

And up the steep barbarian monarchs ride,

Where the car climbed the capitol; far and wide,
Temple and tower went down, nor left a site :—
Chaos of ruins! who shall trace the void,
O'er the dim fragments cast a lunar light,

And say,

“Here was, or is "where all is doubly night?

Alas! the lofty city! and alas!

The trebly hundred triumphs! and the day
When Brutus made the dagger's edge surpass
The conqueror's sword in bearing fame away!
Alas! for Tully's voice and Virgil's lay,
And Livy's pictured page! but these shall be
Her resurrection; all beside-decay.

Alas! for earth, for never shall we see

That brightness in her eye, she bore when Rome was free!

LESSON CXLV.

Dialogue:-Rienzi and Angelo.-MISS MITFORD.

Rienzi. FRIENDS,

I come not here to talk. Ye know too well
The story of our thraldom. We are slaves!
The bright sun rises to his course, and lights
A race of slaves! He sets, and his last beam
Falls on a slave;-not such as, swept along
By the full tide of power, the conqueror leads
To crimson glory and undying fame;
But base, ignoble slaves-slaves to a horde
Of petty tyrants, feudal despots, lords,
Rich in some dozen paltry villages-

Strong in some hundred spearmen-only great

In that strange spell, a name. Each hour, dark fraud,
Or open rapine, or protected murder,

Cries out against them. But this very day,

An honest man, my neighbor,-there he stands,-
Was struck-struck like a dog-by one who wore

The badge of Ursini; because, forsooth,
He tossed not high his ready cap in air,
Nor lifted up his voice in servile shouts,
At sight of that great ruffian. Be we men,
And suffer such dishonor? men, and wash not
The stain away in blood? Such shames are common.
I have known deeper wrongs. I, that speak to you,
I had a brother once, a gracious boy,

Full of all gentleness, of calmest hope,

Of sweet and quiet joy; there was the look
Of heaven upon his face, which limners give
To the beloved disciple. How I loved
That gracious boy! Younger by fifteen years,
Brother at once and son! He left my side,

A summer bloom on his fair cheeks, a smile
Parting his innocent lips. In one short hour,
The pretty, harmless boy was slain! I saw
The corse, the mangled corse, and then I cried
For vengeance.-Rouse, ye Romans! Rouse, ye slaves!
Have
ye brave sons? Look, in the next fierce brawl,
To see them die. Have ye fair daughters? Look
To see them live, torn from your arms, distained,
Dishonored; and, if ye dare call for justice,
Be answered by the lash. Yet this is Rome,
That sat on her seven hills,

and, from her throne Of beauty, ruled the world! Yet we are Romans. Why, in that elder day, to be a Roman

Was greater than a king! And once, again,
Hear me, ye walls, that echoed to the tread
Of either Brutus! once again, I swear,
The eternal city shall be free; her sons
Shall walk with princes.

Angelo. (Entering.) What be ye,
That thus, in stern and watchful mystery,
Cluster beneath the vail of night, and start
To hear a stranger's foot?

Ang. Surely

Thou art Cola di Rienzi?

Rie. Ay, the voice

The traitor voice.

Ang. I know thee by the words.

Who, save thyself, in this bad age, when man
Lies prostrate like yon temple, dared conjoin
The sounds of Rome and freedom?

Rie. I shall teach

The world to blend those words, as in the days
Before the Cæsars. Thou shalt be the first
To hail the union. I have seen thee hang
On tales of the world's mistress, till thine eyes,
Flooded with strong emotion, have let fall

Big tear-drops on thy cheeks, and thy young hand
Hath clenched thy maiden sword. Unsheath it now-
Now, at thy country's call! What, dost thou pause?
Is the flame quenched? Dost falter? Hence with thee!
Pass on! pass whilst thou may!

Ang. Hear me, Rienzi.

Even now my spirit leaps up at the thought
Of those brave storied days-a treasury
Of matchless visions, bright and glorified,
Paling the dim lights of this darkling world.

With the golden blaze of heaven, but past and gone,

As clouds of yesterday, as last night's dream.

Rie. A dream! Dost see yon phalanx, still and stern? A hundred leaders, each with such a band,

So armed, so resolute, so fixed in will,

Wait with suppressed impatience till they hear

The great bell of the capitol, to spring

At once on their proud foes. Join them.

Ang. My father!

Rie. Already he hath quitted Rome.
Ang. My kinsmen!

Rie. We are too strong for contest.

Thou shalt see

No other change, within our peaceful streets,
Than that of slaves to freemen; such a change
As is the silent step from night to day,
From darkness into light. We talk too long.

Ang. Yet reason with them-warn them.

Will be the jail, the gibbet, or the axe

The keen retort of power.

Why, I have reasoned;

Warn them!

And, but that I am held, amongst your great ones,
Half madman and half fool, these bones of mine
Had whitened on yon wall.
They met,
At every step, dark warnings. The pure air,
Where'er they passed, was heavy with the weight
Of sullen silence; friend met friend, nor smiled,
Till the last footfall of the tyrant's steed
Had died upon the ear; and, low and hoarse,
Hatred came murmuring like the deep voice
Of the wind before the tempest.

Ang. I'll join ye;

How shall I swear?

Rie. (To the people.)

I bring unhoped-for aid.

The immediate heir of the Colonna, craves

To join your band.

Ang. Hear me swear

By Rome, by freedom, by Rienzi! Comrades,
How have ye titled your deliverer? Consul,
Dictator, emperor ?

Rie. No;

Those names have been so often steeped in blood,
So shamed by folly, so profaned by sin,

The sound seems ominous.-I'll none of them.
Call me the tribune of the people; there

My honoring duty lies. Hark-the bell, the bell!
The knell of tyranny! the mighty voice,
That to the city and the plain, to earth,

And listening heaven, proclaims the glorious tale
Of Rome reborn, and freedom! See, the clouds
Are swept away, and the moon's boat of light
Sails in the clear blue sky, and million stars
Look out on us, and smile.