III. And then, a draught of nature's wine, IV. Give me to live with love alone, If life's a flower, I choose my own"Tis "Love in Idleness!" LAMBERTO. Lamberto had not been long in possession of the kingdom of Lombardy, when he was murdered in the forest of Marengo, by a young nobleman, whom he had loaded with honours, in the vain hope of inducing him to forgive the cruel execution of his father (Count Manfred), whom Lamberto had ungenerously put to death, in revenge for his gallant defence of Milan, in the service of Arnolf. Rivoluzioni d'Italia da Carlo Denina. I. DEEP in a forest's solitude, And thus, with scoff and bitter taunt, He sped his soul away:— II. Nay! do not clothe that royal brow With such a withering frown, I do not fear thy glances now; Tyrant and traitor! down! Talk not of pardon,-penitence,- III. 'Go! cruel, coward spirit, go! Yet ere thou dost depart, That I have wreaked a vengeance, know, Long cherished in my heart! Confiding fool! and didst thou dream That injuries like mine Might be dissolved into a dream By favour such as thine?— IV. "That thou in safety might'st exult Know, that the bounty, whose base weight To hunt thee to the death! V. "I've hated thee 'mid many wiles, Through days that seemed like years ;— And secret, scalding tears: Detested king! it will be sweet VI. "But go! and when thou shalt appear Tell how thy crimes and perjuries here Count o'er thy deeds of treachery done; Say 't was a murdered father's Son Who sent thee there to plead!" L-x-C. THE MARTYRS OF ROYAL-LIEU. The Abbess of Royal-Lieu fell a victim to the revolutionary madness. She and her numerous sisterhood were led to the scaffold on the same day. On their way from the prison to the guillotine, they all chanted the Veni Creator. Their arrival at the place of execution, did not interrupt their strains; one head fell, and ceased to join its voice with the celestial chorus-but the song continued. The Abbess suffered last; and her single voice still raised the devout versicle. It ceased at once-and the silence of death ensued. Madame Campan's Memoirs. I. DARK clouds are hurrying through the sky, "Tis autumn's fitful eve; And the dying breeze is murmuring by, A stifling heat is in the air; Like the sultry breath of a lion's lair; And unseen fingers weave A giant shade of shadows dun, |