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of twenty-eight persons at once, among whom were thirteen young females. Le Bon issued orders that the people should attend this spectacle, and these orders no one durst disobey, but at the hazard of his life. A widow lady who, on account of indisposition, was not able to be present at the execution herself, sent her daughter in her stead, having previously given her a strict charge not to show the least signs of sympathy for the persons whose execution she was about to witness. The daughter promised to keep the command over herself, and she actually suppressed her emotions till the sixteenth victim was brought on the scaffold. In her she beheld one of

the most intimate friends of her juvenile years, of whose sentence she had not the least previous intimation. At this afflicting sight, tears burst from her eyes in spite of all her endeavours to restrain them. Unfortunately the stroke of the guillotine did not completely separate the head from the body, so that the executioner was obliged to finish his work with a knife. At this horrid spectacle the young lady fainted, which being observed by the wife of Le Bon, who constantly sat upon the scaffold, the sanguinary fiend exclaimed “Look at that monster of an Aristocrat ! Secure her!” Both the mother and daughter were immediately taken into custody, and the latter,

two days after, atoned for her tears and fainting with her life.

BRANTOME, VOL. 4, p. 174.

1789.

Franch first, at REVOLUTION's bloody shrine, Her lilies stained, in Seventeen, Eighty-nine.

THE

BEAUTIES OF VIRGIL'S GEORGICS.

Selected from Mr. Sotheby's elegant translation.

A STORM IN AUTUMN.

E’en in mid harvest, while the jocund swain
Pluck'd from the brittle stalk the golden grain,
Oft have I seen the war of winds contend,
And prone on earth th' infuriate storm descend,
Waste far and wide, and, by the roots uptorn,
The heavy harvest sweep through ether borne,
As the light straw, and rapid stubble fly
In dark’ning whirlwinds round the wintry sky.
Column on column press'd in close array,
Dark tempests thicken o'er the watery way,

Heav'n rushes down, and deluges with rain
The labours of the ox, and joyful grain ;
The dikes o’erflow, the flooded channels roar,
Vext ocean’s foaming billows rock the shore:
The Thunderer, thron'd in clouds, with darkness

crown'd,
Bares his red arm, and flashes lightnings round.
The beasts are fled: earth rocks from pole to pole,
Fear walks the world, and bows th' astonish'd

soul : Prone Athos flames, and crush'd beneath the blow, Jove rives with fiery bolt Ceraunia's brow : The tempest darkens, blasts redoubled rave, Smite the hoarse wood, and lash the howling

wave,

THE

PLEASURES OF A COUNTRY LIFE.

Ah! happy swain ! ah! race belov'd of heav'n!
Too bless’d, if conscious of the blessing given !
For thee just Earth from her prolific beds
Far from wild war spontaneous plenty sheds.

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