We have them in Numidia. Not in Rome?
I'm sorry for it ;-I could enjoy it now;
I might have felt them yesterday; but now,-
Now, I have seen my funeral procession;
The chariot-wheels of Marius* have roll'd o'er me;
His horses' hoofs have trampled me in triumph;
I have attain'd that terrible consummation,
My soul could stand aloof, and from on high
Look down upon the ruins of my body
Smiling in apathy;-I feel no longer;
I challenge Rome to give another pang.
Oh! how he smiled, when he beheld me pause
Before his car, and scowl upon the mob;
The curse of Rome was burning on my lips,
And I had gnaw'd my chain, and hurl'd it at them
But that I knew he would have smiled again.

2. A king! and led before the gaudy Marius,
Before those shouting masters of the world,
As if I had been conquered: while each street,
Each peopled wall, and each insulting window,
Peal'd forth their brawling triumphs o'er my head
Oh! for a lion from thy woods, Numidia !—
Or had I, in that moment of disgrace,
Enjoy'd the freedom but of yonder slave,
I would have made my monument in Rome.
Yet I am not that fool, that Roman fool,
To think disgrace entombs the hero's soul,-
Forever damps his fires, and dims his glories;
That no bright laurel can adorn the brow
That once has bow'd; no victory's trumpet-sound
Can drown in joy the rattling of his chains.
What avails it now,

3.
That my proud views despised the narrow limits,
Which minds that span and measure out ambition
Had fixed to mine; and, while I seemed intent
On savage subjects and Numidian forests,
My soul had pass'd the bounds of Africa !-

* Caius Marius, a distinguished Roman general. He was seven times consul. Dissensions having arisen between him and Sylla, Marius and his party were defeated, and he was obliged to flee from Italy. After various disasters, he landed in Africa, and went in a melancholy manner and seated himself among the RUINS OF CARTHAGE. His party, headed by Cinna, gaining the ascendency, he returned to Rome, and put to death all whom he considered his enemies. Marius assumed the consulship, but died about one month after, in a fit of debauch, aged 70—B. C. 86.

Defeated!-overthrown!-yet to the last

Ambition taught me hope; and still my mind,
Through danger, flight, and carnage, grasp'd dominion;
And had not Bocchus-curses, curses on him!-
What Rome has done, she did it for ambition;
What Rome has done, I might—I would have done;
What thou hast done, thoù wretch!-Oh had she proved
Nobly deceitful: had she seized the traitor,

And joined him with the fate of the betrayed,
I had forgiven her all; for he had been
The consolation of my prison hours;
I could forget my woes in stinging him;
And if, before this day, his little soul
Had not in bondage wept itself away,

Rome and Jugurtha should have triumphed o'er him.
4. Look here, thou caitiff,* if thou canst, and see
The fragments of Jugurtha;-view him wrapt
In the last shred he borrow'd from Numidia;
'Tis cover'd with the dust of Rome;-behold
His rooted gaze upon the chains he wears,
And on the channels they have wrought upon him;
Then look around upon his dungeon walls,
And view yon scanty mat, on which his frame
He flings, and rushes from his thoughts to sleep.
Sleep!

5.
I'll sleep no more, until I sleep forever:
When I slept last, I heard Adherbal scream.
I'll sleep no more! I'll think until I die:
My eyes shall pore upon my miseries,
Until my miseries shall be no more.

Yet wherefore did he scream? Why, I have heard
His living scream,-it was not half so frightful.

Whence comes the difference? When the man was living,
Why, I did gaze upon his couch of torments
With placid vengeance, and each anguish'd cry
Gave me stern satisfaction; now he's dead,
And his lips move not-yet his voice's image
Flash'd such a dreadful darkness o'er my soul,
I would not hear that fearful cry again

For the high glory of Numidia's throne.

6. But ah! 'twas I that caused that living scream, And therefore did its echo seem so frightful:

If 'twere to do again, I would not kill thee;

* Pronounced ca-tif, a base villain-meaning Bocchus.

Wilt thou not be contented?-But thou say'st,
"My father was to thec a father also;

He watch'd thy infant years, and gave thee all
That youth could ask, and scarcely manhood came,
Than came a kingdom also; yet didst thou"-

Oh I am faint!-they have not brought me food—
How did I not perceive it until now?

Hold, my Numidian cruse is still about me—
No drop within-Oh, faithful friend, companion
Of many a weary march and thirsty day;

"Tis the first time that thou hast fail'd my lips.—

7. Gods! I'm in tears!-I did not think of weeping. Oh Marius, wilt thou ever feel like this?

Ha! I behold the ruin of a city;

And on a craggy fragment sits a form
That seems in ruins also; how unmoved,

How stern he looks! Amazement! it is Marius.
Ha! Marius, think'st thou now upon Jugurtha?
He turns! he's caught my eye!—I see no more!

LESSON CLXXIV.

Rienzi's* Address to the Romans.-Miss MITFORD.
1. 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 led
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. •

2.

Each hour, dark fraud, Or open rapine, or protected murder,

Nicolas Gabrini de Rienzi, a remarkable character of the 14th century. He was the son of an obscure miller, yet by his zeal in opposing the existing vices, and by persuading his friends that he was able to restore the ancient glory of his country, he gained the supreme power; and was declared sovereign of Rome, with the approbation of the Pope. This excited the jealousy of the nobles, and he was murdered in 1354.

Cry 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.

3.

I, that speak to ye,
I had a brother once, a gracious boy,
Full of 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!

4.
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 Brutust! once again, I swear,
The eternal city shall be free; her sons
Shall walk with princes!

* Ursini, a Roman nobleman.

+ Lucius Junius Brutus, one who expelled the Tarquins, and abolished the regal government at Rome, B. C. 509.

Marcus Junius Brutus, one of the conspirators who assassinated Julius Cesar.

LESSON CLXXV.

Battle of Waterloo.*-LORD Byron,

1. THERE was a sound of revelry by night,
And Belgium's capitalt had gathered then
Her beauty and her chivalry, and bright.
The lamps shone o'er fair women and brave men:
A thousand hearts beat happily; and when
Music arose with its voluptuous swell,

Soft eyes looked love to eyes which spake again,
And all went merry as a marriage-bell;

But hush! hark!--a deep sound strikes like a rising knell

2. Did ye not hear it?-No; 'twas but the wind,
Or the car rattling o'er the stony street:
On with the dance! let joy be unconfined;
No sleep till morn, when youth and pleasure meet
To chase the glowing hours with flying feet—
But, hark!—that heavy sound breaks in once more,
As if the clouds its echo would repeat.

And nearer, clearer, deadlier than before!

Arm! arm! it is-it is-the cannon's opening roar!

3. Ah! then and there was hurrying to and fro,
And gathering tears, and tremblings of distress,
And cheeks all pale, which but an hour ago
Blushed at the praise of their own loveliness:
And there were sudden partings, such as press
The life from out young hearts, and choking sighs
Which ne'er might be repeated--who could guess
If ever more should meet those mutual eyes,
Since upon night so sweet such awful morn could rise?
4. And there was mounting in hot haste; the steed,
The mustering squadron, and the clattering car,
Went pouring forward with impetuous speed,
And swiftly forming in the ranks of war;
And the deep thunder, peal on peal afar;

Waterloo, a town of Belgium, 12 miles south of Brussels. It is well known as the scene of one of the most important and hard fought battles in modern times, between the allied British, German, and Belgic troops, under the duke of Wellington and marshal Blucher; and the French, under Napoleon Bonaparte, June 18th, 1815. The French were totally defeated, and the hopes of Bonaparte for ever blasted.

+ Brussels, one of the most splendid cities in Europe, celebrated for its manufacture of carpets.