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Ulr.

Sieg.

Or I would bid them fall and crush me! Fly! Denounced-dragg’d, it may be, in chains; and all
Or you will be slain by-

By your inherent weakness, half-humanity,
Gab.
Is it even so ?

Selfish remorse, and temporising pity,
Farewell, then! Recollect, however, count,

That sacrifices your whole race to save You sought this fatal interview!

A wretch to profit by our ruin! No, count! Sieg.

I did :

Henceforth you have no son. Let it not be more fatal still!-- Begone!

Sieg.

I never had one; Gab. By the same path I enter'd ?

And would you ne'er had borne the useless name! Sieg.

Yes; that's safe still: Where will you go? I would not send you forth But loiter not in Prague ;-you do not know

Without protection. With whom you have to deal.

Leave that unto me. Gab,

I know too well - I am not alone; nor merely the vain heir And knew it ere yourself, unhappy sire!

Of your domains; a thousand, ay, ten thousand Farewell!

[Exit Gabor. | Swords, hearts, and hands, are mine. Sieg. (solus and listening.) He hath clear'd the

The foresters! staircase. Ah! I hear

With whom the Hungarian found you first at FrankThe door sound loud behind him! He is safe!

fort! Safe!—Oh, my father's spirit!-I am faint

Ulr. Yes ---men--who are worthy of the name! [He leans down upon a stone seat, near the wall Go tell of the tower, in a drooping posture.

Your senators that they look well to Prague; Enter Ulric, with others armed, and with weapons

Their feast of peace was early for the times;

There are more spirits abroad than have been laid drawn.

With Wallenstein!
Ur. Despatch !-he's there!
Lud.
The count, my lord!

Enter JOSEPHINE and Iva.
Ulr. (recognising SIEGENDORF.) You here, sir! Jos. What is 't we hear? My Siegendorf!
Sieg. Yes: if you want another victim, strike! Thank Heaven, I see you safe!
Ulr. (seeing him stript of his jewels.) Where is

Safe! the ruffian who hath plunder'd you ?

Ida.

Yes, dear fatbar! Vassals, despatch in search of him! You see

Sieg. No, no; I have no children : never more 'T was as I said—the wretch hath stript my father Call me by that worst name of parent. Of jewels which might form a prince's heir-loom! Jos.

What Away! I'll follow you forthwith.

Means my good lord ? [Exeunt all but SIEGENDORF and ULRIC.

That you have given birth What's this? To a demon! Where is the villain?

Ida (taking Ulric's hand). Who shall dare se Sieg. There are two, sir: which

this of Ulric? Are you in quest of?

Sieg. Ida, beware! there's blood upon that band. Ulr. Let us hear no more

Ida (stooping to kiss it). I'd kiss it off, though it Of this: he must be found. You have not let him Sieg.

It is so!

[were mint Escape?

Ulr. Away ! it is your father's! [Èxit ULRIC Sieg. He's gone.

Ida.

Oh, great God! Ulr.

With your connivance ? And I have loved this man! Sieg.

With [Ida falls senseless—JOSEPBINE stands speechless My fullest freest aid.

with horror. Ulr. Then fare you well!

Sieg.

The wretch hath slain [ULRIC is going. | Them both !-My Josephine! we are now alone! Sieg. Stop! I command-entreat-implore! Oh, Would we had ever been so!-All is over Ulric!

For me!-Now open wide, my sire, thy grave; Will you then leave me?

| Thy curse hath dug it deeper for thy son Ulr.

What! remain to be In mine!—The race of Siegendorf is past!

Sieg.

Sieg.

The Age of Bronze;

OR, CARMEN SECULARE ET ANNUS HAUD MIRABILIS.(1)

"Impar Congressus Achilli."

I.

Tel® good old times " -all times when old are good —
Are gone; the present might be if they would;
Great things have been, and are, and greater still
Want little of mere mortals but their will:
A wider space, a greener field, is given
To those who play their “tricks before high Heaven."
I know not if the angels weep, but men
Have wept enough—for what?—to weep again!

II.

All is exploded—be it good or bad.
Reader! remember when thou wert a lad,
Then Pitt was all; or, if not all, so much,
His very rival almost deem'd him such. (2)
We, we have seen the intellectual race
Of giants stand, like Titans, face to face-
Athos and Ida, with a dashing sea
Of eloquence between, which flowd all free,
As the deep billows of the Ægean roar
Betwixt the Hellenic and the Phrygian shore.
Eat where are they--the rivals!-a few feet
Oi sullen earth divide each winding-sheet.(3)
How peaceful and how powerful is the grave
Which bushes all! a calm unstormy wave
Which oversweeps the world. The theme is old
Of dust to dust;” but half its tale untold:
Time tempers not its terrors--still the worm
Winds its cold folds, the tomb preserves its form,
Varied above, but still alike below;
Ite urn may shine, the ashes will not glow,
Though Cleopatra's mummy cross the sea
O'er which from empire she lured Antony;
Though Alexander's urn a show be grown
On shores he wept to conquer, though unknown-
How vain, how worse than vain, at length appear
The madman's wish, the Macedonian's tear!
He wept for worlds to conquer-half the earth
Knows not his name, or but his death, and birth,

(1) This poem was written by Lord Byron at Genoa, in e early part of the year 1823; and published in London,

Mr. John Hunt. Its authenticity was much disputed at the time.-L. E.

2) Mr. For used to say_" I never want a word, but Pitt kter wants the word.” The story occurs in many memoirs the time.-L.E.

3) The grave of Mr. Fox, in Westminster Abbey, is wihin eighteen inches of that of Mr. Pitt:

" Where-taming thonght to human pride!

The mighty chiefs sleep side by side.
Drop upon Fox's grave the tear,
T will trickle to his rival's bier :
O'er Pitt's the mournful requiem sound,
And For's shall the notes rebound:
The solemn echo seems to cry-
• Here let their discord with them die;
Speak not for those a separate doom,
Whom fate made brothers in the tomb;
But search the land of living men,
Where wilt thou find their like again?'"

Sir Walter Scott.-L. E.

And desolation; while his native Greece
Hath all of desolation, save its peace.
He “wept for worlds to conquer !” he who ne'er
Conceived the globe he panted not to spare!
With even the busy Northern Isle unknown,
Which holds his urn, and never knew his throne.(4)

III.
But where is he, the modern, mightier far,
Who, boru no king, made monarchs draw his car;
The new Sesostris, whose unharness'd kings, (5)
Freed from the bit, believe themselves with wings,
And spurn the dust o'er which they crawld of late,
Chain'd to the chariot of the chieftain's state ?
Yes ! where is he, the champion and the child
Of all that's great or little, wise or wild?
Whose game was empires, and whose stakes were

thropes ? Whose table earth-whose dice were human bones? Behold the grand result in yon lone isle, (6) And, as thy nature urges, weep or smile. Sigh to behold the eagle's lofty rage Reduced to nibble at his narrow cage; Smile to survey the queller of the nations Now daily squabbling o'er disputed rations; Weep to perceive him mourning, as he dines, O'er curtaild dishes and o'er stinted wines; O'er petty quarrels upon petty things : Is this the man who scourged or feasted kings? Behold the scales in which his fortune hangs, A surgeon's (7) statement, and an earl's(8) harangues! A bust delay'd, (9) a book refused, can shake The sleep of him who kept the world awake. Is this indeed the tamer of the great, Now slave of all could tease or irritate The paltry gaoler (10) and the prying spy, The staring stranger with his note-book nigh?(11) Plunged in a dungeon, he had still been great; How low, how little, was this middle state,

(4) A sarcophagus, of breccia, supposed to have contained the dust of Alexander, which came into the pos. session of the English army, in consequence of the capitulation of Alexandria, in February, 1802, was presented by George III. to the British Museum.-L.E.

(6) Sesostris is said, by Diodorus, to have had his chariot drawn by eight vanquished sovereigns :

* High on his car Sesostris struck my view,

Whorn scepter'd slaves in golden harness drew;
His hands a bow and pointed javelin hold,
His giant limbs are arm'd in scales of gold."

Pope's Temple of Fame.-L. E. (6) St. Helena.-L.E. (7) Mr. Barry O'Meara.-L. E. (8) Earl Bathurst.-L.E. (9) The bust of his son.-L. E. (10) Sir Hudson Lowe.-L.E.

Captain Basil Hall's interesting account of his inter. view with the ex-emperor occurs in his Voyage to Loo-choo. -L. E.

Between a prison and a palace, where

But what are these to him? Can glory's lust How few could feel for what he had to bear!

Touch the freed spirit or the fetter'd dust? Vain his complaint, ---my lord presents his bill, Small care hath he of what his tomb consists; His food and wine were doled out duly still:

Nought if he sleeps—nor more if he exists: Vain was his sickness, never was a clime

Alike the better-seeing shade will smile So free from homicide—to doubt's a crime!

On the rude cavern of the rocky isle, And the stiff surgeon, who maintain'd his cause, As if his ashes found their latest home Hath lost his place, and gain'd the world's applause. (1) | In Rome's Pantheon or Gaul's mimic dome. But smile-thuugh all the pangs of brain and heart He wauts not this, but France shall feel the want Disdain, defy, the tardy aid of art;

Of this last consolation, though so scant; Though, save the few fond friends and imaged face Her honour, fame, and faith demand his bones Of that fair boy bis sire shall ne'er embrace,

To rear above a pyramid of thrones; None stand by his low bed--though even the mind Or carried onward in the battle's van, Be wavering, which long awed and awes mankind: | To form, like Guescliu's(3) dust, her talisman. Smile—for the fetter'd eagle breaks his chain, But be it as it is—the time may come And higher worlds than this are his again.(2) His name shall beat the alarm, like Ziska's drum. (0) IV.

V. How, if that soaring spirit still retain

O heaven! of which he was in power a feature; A conscious twilight of his blazing reign,

O earth! of which he was a noble creature; How must he smile, on looking down, to see Thou isle! to be remember'd long and well, The little that he was and sought to be!

That saw'st the unfledged eaglet chip his sbell! What though his vame a wider empire found

Ye Alps, which view'd him in his dawning Rights Than bis ambition, though with scarce a bound ? Hover, the victor of a hundred fights! Though first in glory, deepest in reverse,

Thou Rome, who saw'st thy Cæsar's deeds outdone! He tasted empire's blessings and its curse;

Alas! why pass'd he too the RubiconThough kings, rejoicing in their late escape

The Rubicon of man's awaken'd rights, From chains, would gladly be their tyrant's ape; To herd with vulgar kings and parasites ? How must he smile, and turn to yon lone grave, Egypt! from whose all dateless tombs arose The proudest sea-mark that o'ertops the wave! Forgotten Pharaohs from their long repose, What though his gaoler, duteous to the last,

And shook within their pyramids to hear Scarce deein'd the coffin's lead could keep him fast, A new Cambyses thundering in their ear; Refusing one poor line along the lid,

While the dark shades of forty ages stood To date the birth and death of all it hid;

Like startled giants by Nile's famous flood; (5) That name shall hallow the ignoble shore,

Or from the pyramid's tall pinnacle A talisman to all save him who bore:

Beheld the desert peopled, as from hell, The fleets that sweep before the eastern blast With clashing hosts, who strew'd the barren sand Shall hear their sea-boys hail it from the mast; To re-manure the uncultivated land! When Victory's Gallic column shall but rise, Spain! which, a moment mindless of the Cid, Like Pompey's pillar, in a desert's skies,

Beheld his banner flouting thy Madrid! The rocky isle that holds or held his dust

Austria! which saw thy iwice-ta'en capital Shall crown the Atlantic like the hero's bust, Twice spared, to be the traitress of his fall! And mighty nature o'er his obsequies

Ye race of Frederic!-Frederics but in naine Do more than niggard envy still denies.

And falsehood-heirs to all except bis fame;

(1) The circumstances under which Mr. O'Meara's dis. vernor, but the honour of the nation, and the importante missal from his Majesty's service took place will suffice to interest committed to his charge, should not have been show how little “ the stiff surgeon" merited the applause served in your own breast for two years, to be produced a of Lord Byron. In a letter to the Admiralty Board by Mr, last, pot (as it would appear from a sense of public de O'M., dated Oct. 28, 1818, there occurred the following pa. but in furtherance of your own personal hostility against ragraph :-"In the third interview which Sir Hudson Lowe governor. Either the charge is in the last degree false 8 had with Napoleon Bonaparte, in May, 1816, he proposed calumnious, or you can have no possible excuse for bal to the latter to send me away, and to replace me by Mr.

hitherto suppressed it. In either case, and without even Baxter, who had been several years surgeon in the Corsican ing to the general tenour of your conduct, as stated mom Rangers. Failing in this attempt, he adopted the resolution letter, my Lords consider you to be an improper person of manifesting great confidence in me, by loading me with continue in his Majesty's service ; and they have directe civilities, inviting me constantly to dine with him, convers. your name to be erased from the list of naval surgeons ing for hours togetber with me alone, both in his own bouse cordingly,"-LE. and grounds, and at Longwood, either in my own room, or

(2) Bonaparte died the 5th of May, 1821.-L.E. under the trees and elsewhere. On some of these occasions he made to me observations upon the benefit which would

(3) Guesclin, constable of France. died in the midst & result to Europe from the death of Napoleon Bonaparte;

bis triumphs, before Châteauneuf de Randon, in 1350. of wbich event he spoke in a manner which, considering his

English garrison, which had conditioned to surrender 81 situation and mine, was peculiarly distressing to me.” The

certain time, marched out the day after bis death; and te Secretary to the Admiralty was instructed to answer in these

commander respectfully laid the keys of the fortress on terms :-" It is impossible to doubt the meaning which this

bier, so that it might appear to have surrendered to his

ashes. passage was intended to convey; and my Lords can as little doubt that the insinuation is a calumnious falsehood : but (4) John Ziska distinguished leader of the Husstics: if it were true, and if so horrible a suggestion were made It is recorded of him, that, in dying, he ordered his skirta to you, directly or indirectly, it was your bounden duty not be made the covering of a drum. The Bobemians hold to have lost a moment in communicating it to the Admiral memory in superstitious yeneration.-LE. on the spot, or to the Secretary of State, or to their Lord. (5) At the battle of the Pyramids. in July, 1788, abs ships. An overture so monstrous in itself, and so deeply | parte said, “Soldiers ! from the summit of yonder pyra involving, not merely the personal character of the go- | mids forty ages behold you." -LE.

And backward to the den of his despair
The forest monarch shrinks, but finds no lair!

Who crush'd at Jena, crouch'd at Berlin, fell
First, and but rose to follow! Ye who dwell
Where Kosciusko dwelt, remembering yet
The unpaid amount of Catherine's bloody debt!
Poland! o'er which the avenging angel pass'd,
But left thee, as he found thee, still a waste,
Forgetting all thy still-enduring claim,
Thy lotted people and extinguish'd name,
Thy sigh for freedom, thy long-flowing tear,
That sound that crashes in the tyrant's ear-
Kosciusko! On-on-on-the thirst of war
Gasps for the gore of serfs and of their czar.
The half-barbaric Moscow's minarets
Gleam in the sun, but 'tis a sun that sets !
Moscow! tbou limit of his long career,
For which rude Charles had wept his frozen tear
To see in vain—he saw thee-how? with spire
And palace fuel to one common fire.
To this the soldier lent his kindling match,
To this the peasant gave his cottage thatch,
To this the merchant flung his hoarded store,
The prince his hall- and Moscow was no more!
Sablimest of volcanos ! Etna's flame
Pales before thine, and quenchless Hecla's tame;
Vesuvius shows his blaze, a usual sight
Por gaping tourists, from his backney'd height:
Thou stand'st alone unrivalld, till the fire
To come, in which all empires shall expire!

Thon other element! as strong and stern, To teach a lesson conquerors will not learn! Whose icy wing flapp'd o'er the faltering foe, Till fell a hero with each flake of snow; How did thy numbing beak and silent fang Pierce, till hosts perish'd with a single pang! a vain shall Seine look up along his banks or the gay thousands of his dashing ranks! 1 rain shall France recall beneath her vines fer youth-their blood flows faster than her wines;

stagnant in their human ice remains a frozen mummies on the Polar plains. A vain will Italy's broad sun awaken fer offspring chill'd; its beams are now forsaken.

all the trophies gather'd from the war, What shall return ? - the conqueror's broken car! be conqueror's yet unbroken heart! Again he horn of Roland sounds, and not in vain. stzen, where fell the Swede of victory,(1) sholds him conquer, but, alas! not die: tresden surveys three des pots fly once more efore their sovereign,-sovereign as before; ut there exhausted Fortune quits the field, ad Leipsic's treason bids the unvanquish'd yield; de Saxon jackal leaves the lion's side b turn the bear's, and wolf's, and fox's guide;

Oh ye! and each, and all! Oh France! who found
Thy long fair fields, plough'd up as hostile ground,
Disputed foot by foot, till treason, still
His only victor, from Montmartre's hill
Look'd down o'er trampled Paris! and thou Isle, (2)
Which seest Etruria from thy ramparts smile,
Tbou momentary shelter of his pride,

Till woo'd by danger, his yet weeping bride!
| Oh, France! retaken by a single march,
Whose path was through one long triumphal arch!
Oh, bloody and most bootless Waterloo !
| Which proves how fools may have their fortune too,
Won half by blunder, half by treachery:
Oh, dull Saint Helen! with thy gaoler nigh-
Hear! hear Prometheus (3) from his rock appeal
To earth, air, ocean, all that felt or feel
His power and glory, all who yet shall hear
A name eternal as the rolling year;
He teaches them the lesson taught so long,
So oft, so vainly-learn to do no wrong!
A single step into the right had made
This man the Washington of worlds betray'd :
A single step into the wrong has given
His name a doubt to all the winds of heaven;
The reed of Fortune, and of thrones the rod,
Of Fame the Moloch or the demigod;
His country's Cæsar, Europe's Hannibal,
Without their decent diguity of fall.
Yet Vanity herself bad better taught
A surer path even to the fame he sought,
By pointing out on history's fruitless page
Ten thousand conquerors for a single sage.
While Franklin's quiet memory climbs to heaven,
Calming the lightning which he thence hath riven,
Or drawing from the no less kindled earth
Freedom and peace to that which boasts his birth ;(4)
While Washington's a watchword, such as ne'er
Shall sink while there's an echo left to air:(5)
While even the Spaniard's thirst of gold and war
Forgets Pizarro, to shout Bolivar !(6)
Alas! why must the same Atlantic wave
Which wasted freedom gird a tyrant's grave-
The king of kings, and yet of slaves the slave,
Who burst the chains of millions to renew
The very fetters which his arm broke through,
And crush'd the rights of Europe and his own,
To flit between a dungeon and a throne?

VI. But 't will not be—the spark's awaken'd-lo! The swarthy Spaniard feels his former glow;

Ah me! That groan borsts from my anguish'd heart,
My present woes and future to bemoan,

For favours shown
To mortal man I bear this weight of woe!"

Potter's translation.-LE.] The celebrated motto on a French medal of Franklin

was

Gustavus Adolphus fell at the great battle of Lutzen, November, 1632.-L.E.

The Isle of Elba.-L. E.
I refer the reader to the first address of Prometheus
schylus, when he is left alone by his attendants, and
pore the arrival of the Chorus of Sea-Nymphs.
1* Etherial air, and ye swift-winged winds,

Te river's springing from fresh founts, ye waves,
That o'er the interminable ocean wreath
Your crisped srniles, thou all-producing earth,
And thee, bright sun, I call, whose flaming orb
Views the wide world beneath, see what, a god,

suffer from the gods; with what fierce pains,
Behold, what tortures for revolving ages
I here must struggle; such unseemly chains,
This new-raised ruler of the gods devised.

"Eripuit ocelo fulmen, sceptrumque tyrannis,”
(5) "To be the first man (not the Dictator), not the Sylla,
but the Washington, or Aristides, the leader in talent and
truth, is to be next to the Divinity.” B. Diary.-L. E.

8) Simon Bolivar, the liberator of Colombia and Peru, died at San Pedro, December, 1830, of an illness brought on by excessive fatigue and exertion. For an account of Lord Byron's scheme of settling in South America in 1822, see Moore's Life of Byron.--L.E.

The same high spirit which beat back the Moor Through eight long ages of alternate gore Revives—and where? in that avenging clime Where Spain was once synonymous with crime, Where Cortez and Pizarro's banner flew, The infant world redeems her name of "New.”T is the old aspiration breathed afresh, To kindle souls within degraded flesh, Such as repulsed the Persian from the shore Where Greece was-No! she still is Greece once more. One common cause makes myriads of one breast, Slaves of the east, or helots of the west; On Andes' and on Athos' peaks unfurld, The self-same standard streams o'er either world; The Athenian wears again Harmodius' sword;(1) The Chili chief abjures his foreign lord; The Spartan knows himself once more a Greek, Young Freedom plumes the crest of each cacique; Debating despots, hemm'd on either shore, Shrink vainly from the roused Atlantic's roar; Through Calpe's strait the rolling tides advance, Sweep slightly by the balf-tamed land of France, Dash o'er the old Spaniard's cradle, and would sain Unite Ausonia to the mighty main : But driven from thence a while, yet not for aye, Break o'er the Ægean, mindful of the day Or Salamis !(2)—there, there the waves arise, Not to be lulld by tyrant victories. Lone, lost, abandon'd in their utmost need By Christians, unto whom they gave their creed, The desolated lands, the ravaged isle, The foster'd feud encouraged to beguile, The aid evaded, and the cold delay, Prolong'd but in the hope to make a prey:(3)— These, these shall tell the tale, and Greece can show The false friend worse than the infuriate foe. But this is well: Greeks only should free Greece, Not the barbarian, with his mask of peace. How should the autocrat of bondage be The king of serfs, and set the nations free? Better still serve the haughty Mussulman, Than swell the Cossaque's prowling caravan; Better still toil for masters, than await, The slave of slaves, before a Russian gate,Number'd by hordes, a human capital, A live estate, existing but for thrall, Lotted by thousands, as a meet reward For the first courtier in the Czar's regard; While their immediate owner never tastes His sleep, sans dreaming of Siberia's wastes: Better succumb even to their own despair, And drive the camel than purvey the bear.

VIL. But not alone within the hoariest clime Where Freedom dates her birth with that of Time, And not alone where, plunged in night, a crowd Of Incas darken to a dubious cloud, The dawn revives: renown'd romantic Spain

Holds back the invader from ber soil again. Not now the Roman tribe nor Punic horde Demand her fields as lists to prove the sword; Not now the Vandal or the Visigoth Pollute the plains, alike abborring both: Nor old Pelayo on his mountain rears The warlike fathers of a thousand years. That seed is sown and reap'd, as oft the Moor Sighs to remember on his dusky shore. Long in the peasant's song or poet's page Has dwelt the memory of Abencerrage; The Zegri, and the captive victors, flung Back to the barbarous realm from whence they sprong. But these are gone, their faith, their swords, their Yet lest more anti-christian foes than they: (sway, The bigot monarch and the butcher priest, The Inquisition, with her burning feast, The faith's red “auto," fed with human fuel, While sate the catholic Moloch, calmly cruel, Enjoying, with inexorable eye, That fiery festival of agony! The stern or feeble sovereign, one or both By turns; the haughtiness whose pride was sloth: The long degenerate noble; the debased Hidalgo, and the peasant less disgraced, But more degraded; the unpeopled realm; The once proud navy which forgot the helm; The once impervious phalanx disarray'd; The idle forge that form’d Toledo's blade; The foreign wealth that fow'd on every shore, Save hers who earn'd it with the natives' gore; The very language, which might vie with Rowe's And once was known to nations like their homes Neglected or forgotten :-such was Spain; But such she is not, nor shall be again. These worst, these home invaders, felt and feel The new Numantine soul of old Castile. Up! up again! undaunted Tauridor! The bull of Phalaris renews his roar; Mount, chivalrous Hidalgo! vot in vain Revive the cry—“lago! and close Spain !" (1) Yes, close her with your armed bosoms round, And form the barrier which Napoleon found,The exterminating war, the desert plain, The streets without a tenant, save the slain; The wild sierra, with its wilder troop of vulture-plumed guerrillas, on the stoop For their incessant prey; the desperate wall Of Saragossa, mightiest in her fall; The man nerved to a spirit, and the maid Waving her more than Amazonian blade;(5) The knife of Arragon, (6) Toledo's steel; The famous lance of chivalrous Castile; The unerring rifle of the Catalan; The Andalusian courser in the van; The torch to make a Moscow of Madrid; And in each heart the spirit of the Cid:Such have been, such shall be, such are. Adran And win—not Spain, but thine own freedom, Fran

(1) The famous hymn, ascribed to Callistratus :

trigues in Greece. in the verre alluded to see Gord

History of the Greek Revolution (1832), vol. i.-L.E * Cover'd with myrtle-wreaths, I'll wear my sword Like brave Harinodius, and his patriot friend

(4) “Santiago y serra Espana !" the old Spanish 14 Aristogeiton, who the laws restored,

сгу. The tyrant slew, and bade oppression end," etc. etc.-L. E.

(5) See ante, p. 78.-P. e. (2) See note, page 197.-P. E.

(6) The Arragonians are peculiarly dexterous in the

of this weapon, and displayed it particularly in fora (3) For the first authentic account of the Russian in | French wars.

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