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A gasp

For the miraculous gem that to the wearer
Gave signs infallible of coming ill, (117)

PART II.
That clouded though the vehicle of death
Were an invisible perfume.
Happy then

I.
The guest to whom at sleeping-time 't was said,

THE PILGRIM.
But in an under-voice (a lady's page
Speaks in no louder) « Pass not on, That door

It was an hour of universal joy.
Leads to another which awaits your coming,

The lark was up and at the gate of heaven, One in the floor-now left, alıs, unbolted. (118) Singing, as sure to enter when he came ; No eye detects it-lying under-foot,

The butterfly was hasking in my path, Just as you enter, at the threshold-stone;

His radiant wings unfolded. From below Ready to fall and plunge you into darkness,

The bell of prayer rose slowly, plaintively;
Darkness and long oblivion !»

And odours, such as welcome in the day,
Thed indeed

Such as salute the early traveller,
Where lurk'd not danger? Through the fairy-land And come and go, each sweeter than the last,
No seat of pleasure glittering half-way down,

Were rising. Hill and valley breathed delight;
No hunting-place--but with some damning spot And not a living thing but blessed the hour!
That will not be wash'd out! There, at Caiano,(119)

In
every

bush and brake there was a voice
Where, when the hawks were looded and Night came, Responsive!
Pulci would set the table in a roar

From the Thrasymene, that now
With his wild lay (120)—there, where the Sun descends, Slept in the sun, a lake of molten gold,
And hill and dale are lost, veil'd with his beams,

And from the shore that once, when armies met,(123) The fair Venetian 1 diedshe and her lord,

Rocked to and fro unfelt, so terrible Died of a posset drugo'd by him who sate

The rage, the slaughter, I had turn'd away; And saw them suffer, tlinging back the charge,

The path, that led me, leading through a wood, The murderer on the murder'd.

A fairy-wilderness of fruits and flowers,

Sobs of Grief, ? And by a brook (124) that, in the day of strife, Sounds inarticulate-suddenly stopt,

Ran blood, but now runs amber--when a glade, And follow'd by a struggle and a gasp,

Far, far within, sunn'd only at noon-day, in death, are heard yet in Cerreto,

Suddenly open'd. Many a bench was there, Along the marble halls and staircases,

Each round its ancient elm ; and many a track, Nightly at twelve; and, at the self-same hour,

Well-known to them that from the high-way loved Shricks, such as penetrate the inmost soul,

Awhile to deviate. In the midst a cross Such as awake the innocent babe to long,

Of mouldering stone as in a temple stood, Long wailing, echo through the emptiness

Solemn, severe; coeval with the trees Of that old den far up among the hills, (121)

That round it in majestic order rose; Frowning on him who comes from Pietra-Mala : And on the lowest step a Pilgrim knell, In them, in both, within five days and less,

Clasping his hands in prayer. He was the first Two unsuspecting victims, passing fair,

Yet seen by me (save in a midnight-masque, Welcomed with kisses, and slain cruelly,

A revel, where none cares to play his part, One with the knife, one with the fatal noose.

And they, that speak, at once dissolve the charm)

The first in sober truth, no counterfeit; But lo, the Sun is setting ;(122) earth and sky

And, when his orisons were duly paid, One blaze of glory- What but now we saw

He rose, and we exchanged, as all are wont, As though it were not, though it had not been!

A traveller's greeting. He lingers yet; and, lessening to a point,

Young, and of an age Shines like the of Heaven- then withdraws;

When Youth is most attractive, when a light
eye
And from the zenith to the utmost skirts

Plays round and round, reflected, if I err not,
All is celestial red!
The hour is come,

From some attendant Spirit, that ere long
When they that sail along the distant seas

(His charge relinquish'd with a sigh, a tear) Languish for home; and they that in the morn Wings his flight upward-with a look lie won Said to sweet friends « farewell,» melt as at parting; My favour; and, the spell of silence broke, When, journeying on, the pilgrim, if he hears,

I could not but continue.

• Whence, I ask'd, As now we hear it, echoing round the hill, The bell that seems to mourn the dying day,

• Whence art thou?»— From Mont' alto, he replied, Slackens his and sighs, and those he loved

My native village in the Apennines.”—
pace
Loves more than ever.
But who feels it not?

« And whither journeying?»

»-« To the holy shrine And well may wc, for we are far away.

Of Saint Antonio in the City of Padua. Let us retire, and hail it in our hearts.

Perhaps, if thou hast ever gone so far,

Thou wilt direct my course.»—« Most willingly; Bianca Capello.

See Note.

But thou hast much to do, much to endure,
Ere thou hast enter'd where the silver lamps
Burn ever. Tell me I would not transgress,
Yet ask I must-what could have brought thee forth,
Nothing in act or thought to be atoned for?»—

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. It was a vow I made in my distress.

Loosely with locks of hair-I look'd and saw We were so blest, none were so blest as we,

What, seen in such an hour by Sancho Panza, Till Sickness came.

First, as death-struck, I fell; Had given his honest countenance a breadth, Then my beloved sister; and ere long,

Ilis cheeks a flush of pleasure and surprise, Worn with continual watchings, night and day,

Unknown before, had chain'd him to the spot, Our saint-like mother. Worse and worse she grew; And thou, Sir Knight, hadsı traversed hill and dale, And in my anguish, my despair, I vow'd,

Squire-less. That if she lived, if Heaven restored her to us,

Below and winding far away, I would forth with, and in a Pilgrim's weeds,

A narrow glade unfolded, such as Spring (127) Visit that holy shrine. My vow was heard;

Broiders with flowers, and, when the moon is high, And therefore am I come... Thou hast done well; The hare delights to race in, scattering round And may those weeds, so reverenced of old,

The silvery dews. Cedar and cypress threw Guard thee in danger!. –

Singly their length of shadow, chequering · They are nothing worth. The greensward, and, what grew in frequent tufts, But they are worn in humble confidence;

An underwood of inyrile, that by fits Sor would I for the richest robe resign them,

Sent up a gale of fragrance. Through the midst, Wronglit, as they were, by those I love so well,

Reflecting, as it ran, purple and gold, Lauretta and my sister; theirs the task,

A rainbow's splendour (somewhere in the east But none to them, a pleasure, a delight,

Rain-drops were falling fast) a rivulet To ply their utmost skill, and send me forth

Sported as loath to go; and on the bank As best became this service. Their last words,

Stood in the cyes

of

ope, if not of both, Fare thee well, Carlo. We shall count the hours!' Worth all the rest and more) a sumpter-mule (128) Will not go from me.»-

Well-laden, while two menials as in haste • Health and strength be thine Drew from his ample panniers, ranging round In thy long travel! May no sun-beam strike;

Viands and fruits on many a shining salver, No vapour cling and wither! Mayst thou be,

And plunging in the cool translucent wave Sleepiny, or waking, sacred and secure!

Flasks of delicious wine. And, when again thou comesl, thy labour done,

Anon a horn Joy be among ye! In that happy hour

Blow, through the champaign biciding to the feast, All will pour forth to bid thee welcome, Carlo; Its jocund note to other ears address'd, And there is one, or I am much deceived,

Not ours; and, slowly coming by a path,
One thou hast named, who will not be the last.»- That, ere it issued from an ilex-grove,
« Oh, she is true as Truth itself can be!

Was seen far inward, though along the glade
But ah, thou know'st her not. Would that thou couldst! Distinguish'd only by a fresher verdure,
My steps I quicken when I think of her;
1

Peasants approach’d, one leading in a

leaslı For, though they take me further from her door, Beagles yet panting, one with various

fame, I shall return the sooner.

In rich confusion slung, before, behind,

Leveret and quail and pheasant. All announced II.

The chase as over; and ere-long appear'd,

Their horses full of fire, champing the curb,
AN INTERVIEW.

For the white foam was dry upon the flank, PLEASURE, that comes unlook'd-for, is thrice-welcome; Two in close converse, each in each delighting, And, if it stir the heart, if aught be there,

| Their plumage waving as instinct with life; That may hereafter in a thoughtful hour

dy young and graceful, and a Youth, Wake but a sigh, 't is treasured up among

Yet younger, bearing on a falconer's glove,
The things most precious; and the day it came, As in the golden, the romantic time,
Is noted as a white day in our lives.

His falcon hooded. Like some spirit of air,

Or fairy-vision, such as feign'd of old, The sun was wheeling westward, and the cliffs

The Lady, while her courser paw'd the ground, And nodding woods, that everlastingly

Alighted; and her beauty, as she trod (Such the dominion of thy mighty voice, (125) The enamellid bank, bruising nor herb nor flower, Thy voice, Velino, utter'd in the mist)

That place illumined. Hear thee and answer thee, were left at length

Ah, who should she be, For others still as noon; and on we stray'd

And with her brother, as when last we met, From wild to wilder, nothing hospitable

(When the first lark had sung ere half was said, Seen up or down, no bush or green or dry, (126) And as she stood, bidding adieu, her voice, That ancient symbol at the cottage-door,

So sweet it was, recalld me like a spell) Offering refreshment--when Luigi cried,

Who but Angelica ? Well, of a thousand tracts we chose the best!»

That day we gave And, turning round an oak, oracular once,

To Pleasure, and, unconscious of their flight,
Now lightning-struck, a cave, a thoroughfare

Another and another; hers a bome
For all that came, each entrance a broad arch, | Dropt from the sky amid the wild and rude,
Whence many a deer, rustling his velvet coat,

Loretto-like. The rising moon we haild,
Had issued, many a gipsy and her brood

Duly, devoutly, from a vestibule Peer'd forth, then housed again-- the floor yet grey Of many an arch, o'er-wrought and lavishly With ashes, and the sides, where roughest, hung With many a wildering dream of sylphs and flowers,

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When Raphael and his school from Florence carne, Their doors scal'd up and silent as the night,
Filling the land with splendour (129) -

-nor less oft

The dwellings of the illustrious dead-to turn Watch'd her, declining, from a silent dell,

Toward Tibur, and, beyond the City-gate, Not silent once, what time in rivalry

Pour out my unpremeditated verse, Tasso, Guarini, waved their wizard-wands,

Where on his mule I might have met so oft Peopling the groves from Arcady, and lo,

Horace himself (132)-or climb the Palatine, Fair forms appear'd, murmuring melodious verse, (130) Dreaming of old Evander and bis guest, -Then, in their day, a sylvan theatre,

Dreaming and lost on that proud eminence, Mossy the seats, the stage a verdurous floor,

Long while the seat of Rome, hereafter found The scenery rock and shrub-wood, Nature's own; Less than enough (so monstrous was the brood Nature the Architect.

Engender'd there, so Titan-like) to lodge

One in his madness; ' and, the summit gain’d,
JII.

Inscribe my name on some broad aloe-leaf,
ROME.

That sloots and spreads within those very walls

Where Virgil read aloud his tale divine, I Am in Rome! Oft as the morning-ray

Where his voice falter'd, (133) and a mother wept Visits these eyes, waking at once I cry,

Tears of delight! Whence this excess of joy? What has befallen me?

But what the narrow space
And from within a thrilling voice replies,

Just underneath? In many a heap the ground
Thou art in Rome! A thousand busy thoughts Heaves as though Ruin in a frantic mood
Rush on my mind, a thousand images;

llad done bis utmost.

Here and there appears, And I spring up as girt to run a race!

As left to show his handy-work not ours,

An idle column, a half-buried arch, Thou art in Rome! the City that so long

A wall of some great temple. Reign'd absolute, the mistress of the world;

It was once, The mighty vision that the prophets saw,

And long, the centre of their Universe, (134) Aud trembled; that from nothing, from the least,

The Forum-whence a mandate, eagle-wing'd, The lowliest village (what but here and there

Went to the ends of the carth. Let us descend A reed-roofd cabin by a river-side?)

Slowly. At every step much may be lost. Grew into every thing; and, year by year,

The very dust we tread, stirs as with life; Patiently, fearlessly working her way

And not the lightest breath that sends not up O’er brook and field, o'er continent and sea,

Something of human grandeur. Not like the merchant with his merchandize,

We are come, Or traveller with staff and scrip exploring,

Are now where once the mightiest spirits met But hand to hand and foot to foot, through hosts, In terrible conflict; this, while Rome was free, Through nations numberless in battle-array,

The noblest theatre on this side Heaven! Each behind each, each, when the other fell,

Here the first Brutus siood, when o'er the corse Up and in arms, at length subdued them all.

Of her so chaste all mourn'd, and from his cloud

Burst like a God. Here, holding up the knife Thou art in Rome! the City, where the Gauls, That ran with blood, the blood of his own child, Entering at sun-rise through her open gates,

Virginius call'd down vengeance. But whence spoke And, through her streets silent and desolate,

They who larangued the people; turning now Marching to slay, thought they saw Gods, not men; To the twelve tables, (135) now with lifted hands The City that, by temperance, fortitude,

To the Capitoline Jove, whose fulgent shape And love of glory, tower'd above the clouds,

In the unclouded azure shone far off, Then fell—but, falling, kept the highest seat,

And to the shepherd on the Alban mount (136) And in her loneliness, her pomp of woe,

Seem'd like a star new-risen? Where were ranged Where now she dwells, withdrawn into the wild,

In rongh array as on their clement, Still o'er the mind maintains, from age to age,

The beaks of those old galleys, destined still 2
Her empire undiminish’d.

To brave the brunt of war-at Jast to know
There, as though

A calm far worse, a silence as in death?
Grandeur attracted Grandeur, are beheld

All spiritless ; from that disastrons hour All things that strike, ennoble-from the depths

When he, the bravest, gentlest of them all, 3 Of Egypt, from the classic fields of Greece,

Scorning the chains he could not hope to break, Her groves, her temples—all things that inspire

Fell on his sword ! Wonder, delight! Who would not say the Forms

Along the Sacred Way Most perfect, most divine, had by consent

Hither the Triumph came, and, winding round Flock'd thither to abide eternally,

With acclamation, and the martial clang Within those silent chambers where they dwell,

Of instruments, and cars laden with spoil,
In happy intercourse?

Stopt at the sacred stair that then appear'd,
And I am there!

Then through the darkness broke, ample, star-bright, Ah, little thought I, when in school I sate,

As though it led to heaven. "T was night; but now A school-boy on his bench, at early dawn

A thousand torches, turning night to day, (137) Glowing with Roman story, I should live

Blazed, and the victor, springing from his seat
To tread the Appian, (131) once an avenue
Of monuments most glorious, palaces,

Marens Junius Brutus.

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The Rostra.

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Went up, and, kneeling as in fervent prayer,

Replied a Soldier of the Pontiff's guard. Enter'd the Capitol. But what are they,

And innocent as beautiful!, exclaim'd Who at the foot withdraw, a mournful train

A Matron sitting in her stall, hung round In fetters? And who, yet incredulous,

With garlands, holy pictures, and what not? Now gazing wildly round, now on his sons,

Her Alban grapes and Tusculan figs display'd On those so young, well-pleased with all they see, (138) In rich profusion. From her heart she spoke; gers the last !- They are the fallen,

And I accosted her to hear her story. Those who were spared to grace the chariot-wheels;

* The stab,» she cried, - was given in jealousy; And there they parted, where the road divides,

But never fled a purer spirit to heaven, The victor and the vanquish d-there withdrew; As thou wilt say, or much my mind misleads, He to the festal board, and they to die.

When thou hast seen her face. Last night at dusk,

When on her way from vespers-None were near, Well might the great,

the mighty of the world, None save her serving-boy, who knelt and wept, They who were wont to fare deliciously,

But what could tears avail him, when she fellAnd war but for a kingdom more or less,

Last night at dusk, the clock then striking nine, Shrink back, nor from their thrones endure to look, Just by the fountain-that before the church, To think that way! Well miglit they in their state The church she always used, St Isidore'sHumble themselves, and kneel and supplicate

Alas, I knew her from her earliest youth, To be delivered from a dream like this !

That excellent lady. Ever would she say,

Good even, as she pass'd, and with a voice Here Cincinnatus pass’d, his plough the while

Gentle as theirs in heaven!,—But now by fits Left in the furrow, and how

A dull and dismal noise assaild the ear,
many more,
Whose laurels fade not, who still walk the earth, A wail, a chant, louder and louder yet;
Consuls, Dictators, still in Curule pomp

And now a strange fantastic troop appear'd !
Sit and decide; and, as of old in Rome,

Thironging, they came-as from the shades below; Name but their names, set every heart on fire!

All of a ghostly white! Oh say,» I cried,

« Do not the living bere bury the dead? Here, in his bonds, he whom the phalanx saved not,

Do Spirits come and fetch them? What are these, The last on Philip's throne; and the Numidian, a That seem not of this World, and mock the Day; So soon to say, stript of liis cumbrous robe,

Eaclı with a burning taper in his hand ?»Stript to the skin, and in his nakedness

«It is an ancient Brotherhood thou seest. Thrust under-ground, - How cold this bath of yours!, Such their apparel. Through the long, long line, And thy proud queen, Palmyra, through the sands 3

Look where thou wilt, no likeness of a man; Pursued, o'ertaken on her dromedary;

The living mask d, the dead alone uncoverd. Whose temples, palaces, a wondrous dream

But mark:-And, lying on her funeral-couch, That passes not away, for many a league

Like one asleep, her eyelids closed, her hands Illumine yet the desert. Some invoked

Folded together on her modest breast, Death, and escaped ; the Egyptian, when her

asp

As 'I were her nightly posture, through the crowd Came from his covert under the green leaf; 4

She came at last-and richly, gaily clad, And Hannibal himself; and she who said,

As for a birth-day feast ! But breathes she not? Taking the fatal cup between her hands, 5 (139)

A glow is on her cheek—and her lips move! • Tell him I would it had come yesterday;

And now a smile is there-how heavenly sweet! For then it had not been bis nuptial gift. »

Oh no!. replied the Dame, wiping her tears,

But with an accent less of grief than anger,
Now all is changed; and here, as in the wild,

No, she will never, never wake again !»
The day is silent, dreary as the night;
None stirring, save the herdsman and his herd,

Death, when we meet the spectre in our walks, Savage alike; or they that would explore,

As we did yesterday and shall 10-morrow, Discuss and learnedly; or they that come,

Soon grows familiar-like most other things, (And there are many who have cross'd the earth ) Scen, not observed; but in a foreign clime, That they may give the hours to meditation,

Changing his shape to something new and strange, And wander, often saying to themselves,

( And through the world he changes as in sport, • This was the Roman Forum!.

Affect he greatness or humility)

Knocks at the heart, His form and fashion here IV.

To me, I do confess, retlect a gloom,

A sadness round; yet one I would not lose;
A FUNERAL.

Being in unison with all things else
Whence this delay ?- Along the crowded street In this, this land of shadows, where we live
A Funeral comes, and with unusual pomp.:

More in past time than present, where the ground, So I withdrew a little and stood still,

League beyond league, like one great cemetery, While it went by. • She died as she deserved,

Is cover'd o'er with mouldering monuments; Said an Abatè, gathering up his cloak,

And, let the living wander where they will, And with a shrug retrcatiug as the tide

They cannot leave the footsteps of the dead.
Flow'd more and more. But she was beautiful!, Oft, where the burial-rite follows so fast
1 Perseus.
? Juguribu.

The agony, oft coming, nor from far,
Sopbonisba.

Must a fond father meet his darling child,

?

Zenobia.

• Cleopatra.

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(llim who at parting climbed his knees and clung) remembering that nations are naturally patient and Clay-cold and wan, and to the bearers cry,

long-suffering, and seldom rise in rebellion till they Stand, I conjure ye !.

are so degraded by a bad government as to be almost Seen thus destitute,

incapable of a good one. What are the greatest? They must speak beyond

« Hate them, perhaps, ' you may say,

* we should not; A thousand homilies. When Raphael went,

but despise thein we must, if enslaved, like the people Bis heavenly face the mirror of liis mind,

of Rome, in mind as well as body; if their religion be Mis mind a temple for all lovely things

a gross and barbarous superstition.»-respect knowTo tlock to and inhabit-when He went,

ledge; but I do not despise ignorance. They think only Wrapt in his sable cloak, the cloak he wore,

as their fathers thought, worship as they worshipped. To sleep beneath the venerable Dome,'

They do no more; and, if ours bad not burst their By those attended, who in life had loved,

bondage, braving imprisonment and death, might not Had worshipp'd, following in his steps to Fame, we at this very moment have been exhibiting, in our (T was on an April-day, when Nature smiles)

streets and our churches, the same processions, cereAll Rome was there. But, ere the march began, monials, and mortifications? Ere to receive their charge the bearers came,

Nor should we require from those who are in an Who had not sought him? And when all beheld earlier stage of society, what belongs to a later. They Him, where he lay, how changed from yesterday, are only where we once were; and why hold them in Ilim in that hour cut off, and at his head

derision? It is their business to cultivate the inferior His last great work;(140) when, entering in, they look'd arts before they think of the more refined; and in Now on the dead, then on that master-piece,

many of the last what are we as a nation, when comNow on his face, lifeless and colourless,

pared to others that have passed away? Unfortunately Then on those forms divine that lived and breathed, it is too much the practice of governments to nurse and And would live on for ages-all were moved ;

keep alive in the governed their national prejudices. It And sighs burst forth, and loudest lamentations. withdraws their attention from what is passing at home,

and makes them better tools in the hands of Ambition. V.

Hence next-door neighbours are held up to us from our

childhood as natural enemies, and we are urged on NATIONAL PREJUDICES.

like curs to worry each other.' • ANOTHER Assassination! This venerable City,. I ex- In like manner we should learn to be just to indiviclaimed, « what is it, but as it began, a nest of robbers duals. Who can say, - In such circumstances I should and murderers? We must away at sun-rise, Luigi.. — have done otherwise?, Who, did he but reflect by what But before sud-rise I had retlected a little, and in the slow gradations, often by how many strange concursoberesl prose. My indignation was gone; and, when rences, we are led astray, will how much reluctance, Luigi undrew iny curtain, crying, « Up, Signor up! The how much agony, how many cfforts to escape, how horses are at the door. Luigi,» I replied, - if thou

many
self-accusations, how

many sighs, how

many lovest me, draw the curtain., 2

tears-Who, did he but reflect for a moment, would It would lessen very much the severity with which have the heart to cast a stone? Fortunately these things men judge of each other, if they would but trace effects are known to Him, from whom no secrets are hidden; to their causes, and observe the progress of things in, and let us rest in the assurance that llis judgments are the moral as accurately as in the physical world. When we condemn millions in the mass as vindictive and sanquinary, we should remember that, wherever Justice is

VI. ill administered, the injured will redress themselves.

THE CAMPAGNA OF ROME. Robbery provokes to robbery; murder to assassination. Resentmenis become hereditary; and what began in Have none appeared as tillers of the ground, (141) disorder, ends as if all llell had broke loose.

None since they went as though it still were theirs, Laws create a habit of self-restraint, not only by the and they might come and claim their own again? infiuence of fear, but by regulating in its exercise the Was the last plough a Roman's? passion of revenge. If they overawe the bad by the pro

From this Seat, (142) spect of a punishinent ceriain and well-defined, they Sacred for ages, whence, as Virgil sings, console the injured by the infliction of that punish- The Queen of Heaven, alighting from the sky, ment; and, as the intliction is a public act, it excites Look'd down and saw the armies in array, 2 and entails no eminity. The laws are offended; and the community for its own sake pursues and overtakes the : Can it be believed that there are many among us, who, from a desire offender; often without the concurrence of the sufferer, to be thought superior to common-place sentiments and vulgar

not as ours are.

feelings, affect an indifference to their cause! If the Greeks, they sometimes against his wishes.

say, had the probity of other nations—but they are talse to a proNow those who were not born, like ourselves, to sucha

verb'. And is not fals hood the characteristic of slaves! Han is advantages, we should surely rather pity than hale; the creature of cir.umstances. Free, he has ito qualities of a freeand, when at length they venture to turn against their man ; enslaved, those of a slave. rulers, 3 we should lainent, not wonder at their excesses,

Candour, generosity, bow rare are they in tho world; and how mach is to be deplored the want of them! Wben a ininister in our

jarlinnent consats at last to a measure, which, for many r.asons I The Pantheon.

qeshaps existing no longer, be bed before refused 10 adope, there ? A dialogue, which is said to have passed many years ago at should te no exultation as over the fallca, no inunt, no jeer. How Lyons ( Mem, de Grammont, 1, 3.) and which may sull be heard in often may the resistance be continueu lest an enemy should triumph, almost every hotellerie ut day-break.

and the result of convictiou le received as a symptom of fear! 3 As the descendants of an illustrious people lave laicis done. : Encid, xii, 134.

!

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