(When freedom fled, to hold, sequester'd there, THE WIDOW OF CRESCENTIUS. ["In the reign of Otho III. Emperor of Germany, the Romans, excited by their Consul, Crescentius, who ardently desired to restore the ancient glory of the Republic, made a bold attempt to shake off the Saxon yoke, and the authority of the popes, whose vices rendered them objects of universal contempt. The Consul was besieged by Otho in the Mole of Hadrian, which long afterwards continued to be called the Tower of Crescentius. Otho, after many unavailing attacks upon this fortress, at last entered into negotiations; and, pledging his imperial word to respect the life of Crescentius, and the rights of the Roman citizens, the unfortunate leader was betrayed into his power, and immediately beheaded, with many of his partisans. Stephania, his widow, concealing her affliction and her resentment for the insults to which she had been exposed, secretly resolved to revenge her husband and herself. On the return of Otho from a pilgrimage to Mount Gargano, which perhaps a feeling of remorse had induced him to undertake, she found means to be introduced to him, and to gain his confidence; and a poison administered by her was soon afterwards the cause of his painful death."-SISMONDI, History of the Italian Republics, vol. i.] 1 "J'étais allé passer quelques jours seuls à Tivoli. Je parcourus les environs, et surtout celles de la Villa Adriana. Surpris par la pluie au milieu de ma course, je me réfugiai dans les Salles des Thermes voisins du Pécile, (monumens de la villa,) sous un figuier qui avait renversé le pan d'un mur en s'élevant. Dans un petit salon octogone, ouvert devant moi, une vigne vierge avait percé la voûte de l'édifice, et son gros cep lisse, rouge, et tortueux, montait le long du mur comme un serpent. Autour de moi, à travers les arcades des ruines, s'ouvraient des points de vue sur la Campagne Romaine. Des buissons de sureau remplissaient les salles désertes où venaient se réfugier quelques merles solitaires. The cypress, in funereal grace, The wall-flower rustles in the breeze; Was it for this that many a pile, Now Athens weeps her shatter'd fanes, Halls of the dead! in Tibur's vale, Who now shall tell your lofty tale? Who trace the high patrician's dome, The bard's retreat, the hero's home? When moss-clad wrecks alone record There dwelt the world's departed lord, In scenes where verdure's rich array Still sheds young beauty o'er decay, And sunshine on each glowing hill Midst ruins finds a dwelling still. Sunk is thy palace-but thy tomb, Hadrian! hath shared a prouder doom.2 Les fragmens de maçonnerie étaient tapissées de feuilles de scolopendre, dont la verdure satinée se dessinait comme un travail en mosaïque sur la blancheur des marbres: çà et là de hauts ●yprés remplaçaient les colonnes tombées dans ces palais de la Mort; l'acanthe sauvage rampait à leurs pieds, sur des débris, comme si la nature s'était plu à reproduire sur ces chefs-d'œuvre mutilés d'architecture, l'ornement de leur beauté passée."-CHATEAUBRIAND'S Souvenirs d'Italie. 1 The gardens and buildings of Hadrian's villa were copies of the most celebrated scenes and edifices in his dominionsthe Lyceum, the Academia, the Prytaneum of Athens, the Temple of Serapis at Alexandria, the Vale of Tempe, &c. 2 The mausoleum of Hadrian, now the castle of St Angelo, was first converted into a citadel by Belisarius, in his successful defence of Rome against the Goths. "The lover of the arts," says Gibbon, "must read with a sigh that the works of Praxiteles and Lysippus were torn from their lofty pedestals, and hurled into the ditch on the heads of the besiegers." He adds, in a note, that the celebrated Sleeping Though vanish'd with the days of old In time's abyss or Tiber's wave ;3 There he, who strove in evil days Again to kindle glory's rays, Whose spirit sought a path of light For those dim ages far too brightCrescentius-long maintain'd the strife Which closed but with its martyr's life, And left th' imperial tomb a name, A heritage of holier fame. There closed De Brescia's mission high, From thence the patriot came to die ;* Faun of the Barberini palace was found, in a mutilated state, when the ditch of St Angelo was cleansed under Urban VIII. In the middle ages, the Moles Hadriani was made a permanent fortress by the Roman government, and bastions, outworks, &c. were added to the original edifice, which had been stripped of its marble covering, its Corinthian pillars, and the brazen cone which crowned its summit. 3" Les plus beaux monumens des arts, les plus admirables statues, ont étés jetées dans le Tibre, et sont cachées sous ses flots. Qui sait si, pour les chercher, on ne le détournera pas un jour de son lit? Mais quand on songe que les chefsd'œuvres du génie humain sont peut-être là devant nous, et qu'un œil plus perçant les verrait à travers les ondes, l'on éprouve je ne sais quelle émotion, qui renaît à Rome sans cesse sous diverses formes, et fait trouver une société pour la pensée dans les objets physiques, muets partout ailleurs." -MAD. DE STAEL. 4 Arnold de Brescia, the undaunted and eloquent champion of Roman liberty, after unremitting efforts to restore the ancient constitution of the republic, was put to death in the year 1155 by Adrian IV. This event is thus described by Sismondi, Histoire des Republiques Italiennes, vol. ii. pages 68 and 69. "Le préfet demeura dans le château Saint Ange avec son prisonnier: il le fit transporter un matin sur la place destinée aux exécutions, devant la porte du peuple. Arnaud de Brescia, élevé sur un bûcher, fut attaché à un poteau, en face du Corso. Il pouvoit mésurer des yeux les trois longues rues qui aboutissoient devant son échafaud; elles font presqu' une moitié de Rome. C'est là qu'habitoient les hommes qu'il avoit si souvent appelés à la liberté. Ils reposoient encore en paix, ignorant le danger de leur législateur. Le tumulte de l'exécution et la flamme du bûcher And thou, whose Roman soul the last For thou, when all around thee lay 'Tis morn-and nature's richest dyes The clouds have left Soracte's height, Where tombs and fallen fanes have strew'd 'Tis sad amidst that scene to trace Where skies and sunbeams laugh the while; But she, who from yon convent tower Breathes the pure freshness of the hour; réveillèrent les Romains; ils s'armèrent, ils accoururent, mais trop tard; et les cohortes du pape repoussèrent, avec leurs lances, ceux qui, n'ayant pu sauver Arnaud, vouloient du moins recueillir ses cendres comme de précieuses reliques." 1 "Posterity will compare the virtues and failings of this extraordinary man; but in a long period of anarchy and servitude, the name of Rienzi has often been celebrated as the deliverer of his country, and the last of the Roman patriots." -GIBBON'S Decline and Fall, &c. vol. xii. p. 362. 2 "Le consul Terentius Varron avoit fui honteusement jusqu'à Venouse. Cet homme, de la plus basse naissance, n'avoit été élevé au consulat que pour mortifier la noblesse: mais le sénat ne voulut pas jouir de ce malheureux triomphe; il vit combien il étoit nécessaire qu'il s'attirât dans cette occasion la confiance du peuple-il alla au-devant Varron, et le remercia de ce qu'il n'avoit pas désespéré de la republique."-MONTESQUIEU's Grandeur et Décadence des Romains. She, whose rich flow of raven hair The seven proud hills of Empire's birth, But now the lofty strife is o'er, And Liberty shall weep no more. At length imperial Otho's voice Bids her devoted sons rejoice; And he, who battled to restore The glories and the rights of yore, Whose accents, like the clarion's sound, Could burst the dead repose around, Again his native Rome shall see The sceptred city of the free! And young Stephania waits the hour When leaves her lord his fortress-towerHer ardent heart with joy elate, That seems beyond the reach of fate; Her mien, like creature from above, All vivified with hope and love. Fair is her form, and in her eye Lives all the soul of Italy; A meaning lofty and inspired, As by her native day-star fired; Such wild and high expression, fraught Her high-wrought dreams of loveliness, Dreams which, surviving Empire's fall, The shade of glory still recall. But see!-the banner of the brave O'er Adrian's tomb hath ceased to wave. "Tis lower'd-and now Stephania's eye Can well the martial train descry, Who, issuing from that ancient dome, Pour through the crowded streets of Rome. Now from her watch-tower on the height, With step as fabled wood-nymph's light, She flies-and swift her way pursues Through the lone convent's avenues. Dark cypress groves, and fields o'erspread With records of the conquering dead, And paths which track a glowing waste, She traverses in breathless haste; And by the tombs where dust is shrined Once tenanted by loftiest mind, Still passing on, hath reach'd the gate Of Rome, the proud, the desolate ! Throng'd are the streets, and, still renew'd, Rush on the gathering multitude. -Is it their high-soul'd chief to greet That thus the Roman thousands meet? With names that bid their thoughts ascend, Crescentius! thine in song to blend; And of triumphal days gone by Recall th' inspiring pageantry? -There is an air of breathless dread, An eager glance, a hurrying tread; And now a fearful silence round, And now a fitful murmuring sound, Midst the pale crowds, that almost seem Phantoms of some tumultuous dream. Quick is each step and wild each mien, Portentous of some awful scene. Bride of Crescentius! as the throng Bore thee with whelming force along, How did thine anxious heart beat high, Till rose suspense to agony !Too brief suspense, that soon shall close, And leave thy heart to deeper woes. Who midst yon guarded precinct stands, With fearless mien but fetter'd hands? The ministers of death are nigh, Yet a calm grandeur lights his eye; And in his glance there lives a mind Which was not form'd for chains to bind, But cast in such heroic mould As theirs, th' ascendant ones of old. Crescentius! freedom's daring son, Is this the guerdon thou hast won? Oh, worthy to have lived and died Calm is his aspect, and his eye Arch, temple, column, worn and gray, 1 Of the sacred bucklers, or ancilia of Rome, which were kept in the temple of Mars, Plutarch gives the following account:"In the eighth year of Numa's reign, a pestilence prevailed in Italy; Rome also felt its ravages. While the people were greatly dejected, we are told that a brazen buckler fell from heaven into the hands of Numa. Of this he gave a very wonderful account, received from Egeria and the Muses: that the buckler was sent down for the preservation of the city, and should be kept with great care; that eleven others should be made as like it as possible in size and fashion, in order that, if any person were disposed to steal it, he might not be able to distinguish that which fell from heaven from the rest. He further declared, that the place, and the meadows about it, where he frequently conversed with the Muses, should be consecrated to those divinities; and that the spring which watered the ground should be sacred to the use of the Vestal Virgins, daily to sprinkle and purify their temple. The immediate cessation of the pestilence is said to have confirmed the truth of this account."-Life of Numa. 2"Who hath taken this counsel against Tyre, the crowning city, whose merchants are princes, whose traffickers are the honourable of the earth?"-Isaiah, chap. 23. 8" Un mélange bizarre de grandeur d'âme et de foiblesse entroit dès cette époque (l'onzième siècle) dans le caractère des Romains. Un mouvement généreux vers les grandes choses faisoit place tout-à-coup à l'abattement; ils passoient de la liberté la plus orageuse, à la servitude la plus avilissante. On auroit dit que les ruines et les portiques déserts de la capitale du monde, entretenoient ses habitans dans le sentiment de leur impuissance; au milieu de ces monumens de leur domination passée, les citoyens éprouvoient d'une manière trop décourageante leur propre nullité. Le nom des Romains qu'ils portoient ranimoit fréquemment leur enthousiasme, comme il le ranime encore aujourd'hui; mas bientôt la vue de Rome, du forum désert, des sept collines de nouveau rendues au pâturage des troupeaux, des temples désolés, des monumens tombant en ruine, les ramenoit à sentir qu'ils n'étoient plus les Romains d'autrefois."-SISMONDI, Histoire des Républiques Italiennes, vol. i. p. 172. Works of the mighty and the free, Whose steps on earth no more shall be, Thus can approaching death control He heard it, and his heart too well One well-known form his glance hath found- Pale, breathless, through the crowd she flies, The light of frenzy in her eyes: But ere her arms can clasp the form Her heart can heave, her head can rest- A broken gem, whose inborn light Is scatter'd-ne'er to re-unite. PART II. HAST thou a scene that is not spread 1 "As for Cicero, he was carried to Astyra, where, finding a vessel, he immediately went on board, and coasted along to Circæum with a favourable wind. The pilots were preparing immediately to sail from thence, but whether it was that he feared the sea, or had not yet given up all his hopes in Cæsar, he disembarked, and travelled a hundred furlongs on foot, as if Rome had been the place of his destination. Repenting, however, afterwards, he left that road, and made again for the sea. He passed the night in the most perplexing and horrid thoughts; insomuch, that he was sometimes inclined to go privately into Cæsar's house, and stab himself upon the altar of his domestic gods, to bring the divine vengeance upon his betrayer. But he was deterred from this by the fear of torture. Other alternatives, equally distressful, presented themselves. At last he put himself in the hands of his servants, and ordered them to carry him by sea to Cajeta, where he had a delightful retreat in the summer, when the Etesian winds set in. There was a temple of Apollo on that coast, from which a flight of crows came with great noise towards Cicero's vessel as it was making land. They perched on both sides the sail-yard, where some sat croaking, and others pecking the ends of the ropes. All looked upon this as an ill omen; yet Cicero went on shore, and, entering his house, lay down to repose himself. In the meantime a number of the crows settled in the chamberwindow, and croaked in the most doleful manner. One of them even entered it, and, alighting on the bed, attempted with its beak to draw off the clothes with which he had covered his face. On sight of this, the servants began to reproach themselves. 'Shall we,' said they, remain to be spectators of our master's murder? Shall we not protect him, so innocent and so great a sufferer as he is, when the |