h R CF

h R C

Bonaparte's star | trembled | in the zenith, | now | blázing out, in

m f RC

down

prone and its ancient spléndor, | now | suddenly | påling | before his anxious | èye.

(At length, when the Prussians appeared on the field, he resolved to stake Europe on one bold throw. He committed himself and France to Ney, and saw his empire rest on a single charge. The intense anxiety with which he watched the advance of the column, the terrible suspense he suffered when the smoke of battle concealed it from sight, and the utter despair of his great heart when the curtain lifted over a fugitive army, and the despairing shriek rang out on every side, "La garde recule, La garde recule," make us, for the moment, forget all the carnage, in sympathy with his distress.)

Ney felt the pressure | of the immense | responsibility | on his

to

m SRC

tr to

brave | heart, and resolved | not to prove unworthy | of the great | br RCF trust committed to his care. Nothing | could be more | impòsing than the movement of the grand | column | to the assault. turn body to the right back во That guard had never | yet | recòiled | before a human foe; and turn to the left slowly drop the allied forces | beheld | with àwe | its firm | and terrible | ad

BC

m

vance to the final | charge.

BC

1

f во

For a moment | the batteries | stopped | playing, and the firing ceased along the British lines, | as | without the beating | of a drum, | W ms LC

to m f LC

or the blast of a bugle, | they moved in dead | silence | over W mfLO

the plain. The next | moment the artillery | òpened, | and the fL C prone slowly head of the gallant | column | seemed to sink | down; yet they drop L с

neither stopped | nor fàltered.

lift f BC

Dissolving | squadrons | and whole | slowly

f BC drop B C battalions disappearing, | one after another, | in the destructive | 1 f BOFt

BC

fire, affected not | their steady | coùrage. The ranks | closed up | turn to the right W push as before, and each, | treading over | his fallen | comrade, | B C forward

pressed firmly | on. The horse which Ney ròde | fèll | under him, |

1 RO

and he had scarcely | mounted | another, | before it also | sank | to

the earth.

his steed

fRO 1 R O

fh RC

Again and again | did that | unflinching | man | feel |

wms RCms R C

sink down, | till five | had been shot | under him.

h

Then, with his uniform | riddled | with bullets, and his face | mf RC prone

R C near face

singed and blackened | with powder, | he marched on foot, with m f RC prone

drawn | sabre, | at the head | of his men.

In vain did the artillery | hurl its storm | of fire | and lead | push fm B C forward

turn to left to right into that living | màss; up to the very mùzzles they pressed, | and push fm B C push fm BC driving the artillery-men | from their places, | pushed on | through

forward

forward

W m RCF to ms RC F and

the English lines. But at that moment | a file of soldiers, who change to ms C pr

m

8 с

had lain | flat on the ground | behind a low | ridge | of earth, RC Ft on waist turn to left suddenly ròse | and poured a volley | into their very faces. Another

shR C

slowly

W RC tr to

W

m L C to

8 L C and another followed, till one | broad | sheet of flame | rolled on

1 bk

their bosoms, and in such a fierce | and unexpected | flow, | that LC 8 L C h human | courage | could not withstand it. They reeled, || shòok, || S LC

w tr LC to br and to back L C

staggered back, || then turned || and fled.

(The fate of Napoleon was writ. The star that had blazed so brightly over the world went down in blood; and the Bravest of the Brave had fought his last battle.)

40. REGULUS TO THE CARTHAGINIANS.-E. Kellogg.

The beams of the rising sun had gilded the lofty domes of Carthage, and given, with its rich and mellow light, a tinge of beauty even to the frowning ramparts of the outer harbor. Sheltered by the verdant shores, an hundred triremes were riding proudly at their anchors, their brazen beaks glittering in the sun, their streamers dancing in the morning breeze, while many a shattered plank and timber gave evidence of desperate conflicts with the fleets of Rome.

No murmur of business or of revelry arose from the city. The artisan had forsaken his shop, the judge his tribunal,

the priest the sanctuary, and even the stern stoic had come forth from his retirement to mingle with the crowd that, anxious and agitated, were rushing toward the senatehouse, startled by the report that Regulus had returned to Carthage.

Onward, still onward, trampling each other under foot, they rushed, furious with anger and eager for revenge. Fathers were there, whose sons were groaning in fetters; maidens, whose lovers, weak and wounded, were dying in the dungeons of Rome, and gray-haired men and matrons, whom the Roman sword had left childless.

But when the stern features of Regulus were seen, and his colossal form towering above the ambassadors who had returned with him from Rome; when the news passed from lip to lip that the dreaded warrior, so far from advising the Roman senate to consent to an exchange of prisoners, had urged them to pursue, with exterminating vengeance, Carthage and the Carthaginians,-the multitude swayed to and fro like a forest beneath a tempest, and the rage and hate of that tumultuous throng vented itself in groans, and curses, and yells of vengeance. But calm, cold and immovable as the marble walls around him stood the Roman; and he stretched out his hand over that frenzied crowd, with gesture as proudly commanding as though he still stood at the head of the gleaming cohorts of Rome.

The tumult ceased; the curse, half muttered, died upon the lip; and so intense was the silence, that the clanking of the brazen manacles upon the wrists of the captive fell sharp and full upon every ear in that vast assembly, as he thus addressed them:

"Ye doubtless thought-for ye judge of Roman virtue by your own—that I would break my plighted oath, rather than, returning, brook your vengeance. If the bright blood that fills my veins, transmitted free from godlike ancestry,

were like that slimy ooze which stagnates in your arteries, I had remained at home, and broke my plighted oath to save my life.

"I am a Roman citizen; therefore have I returned, that ye might work your will upon this mass of flesh and bones, that I esteem no higher than the rags that cover them. Here, in your capital, do I defy you. Have I not conquered your armies, fired your towns, and dragged your generals at my chariot wheels, since first my youthful arms could wield a spear? And do you think to see me crouch and cower before a tamed and shattered senate? The tearing of flesh and rending of sinews is but pastime compared with the mental agony that heaves my frame.

"The moon has scarce yet waned since the proudest of Rome's proud matrons, the mother upon whose breast I slept, and whose fair brow so oft had bent over me before the noise of battle had stirred my blood, or the fierce toil of war nerved my sinews, did with fondest memory of bygone hours entreat me to remain. I have seen her, who, when my country called me to the field, did buckle on my harness with trembling hands, while the tears fell thick and fast down the hard corselet scales,-I have seen her tear her gray locks and beat her aged breast, as on her knees she begged me not to return to Carthage; and all the assembled senate of Rome, grave and reverend men, proffered the same request. The puny torments which ye have in store to welcome me withal, shall be, to what I have endured, even as the murmur of a summer's brook to the fierce roar of angry surges on a rocky beach.

"Last night, as I lay fettered in my dungeon, I heard a strange ominous sound: it seemed like the distant march of some vast army, their harness clanging as they marched, when suddenly there stood by me Xanthippus, the Spartan general, by whose aid you conquered me, and, with a voice low as when the solemn wind moans through the leafless

forest, he thus addressed me: 'Roman, I come to bid thee curse, with thy dying breath, this fated city; know that in an evil moment, the Carthaginian generals, furious with rage that I had conquered thee, their conqueror, did basely murder me. And then they thought to stain my brightest honor. But, for this foul deed, the wrath of Jove shall rest upon them here and hereafter.' And then he vanished. "And now, go bring your sharpest torments. The woes I see impending over this guilty realm shall be enough to sweeten death, though every nerve and artery were a shooting pang. I die! but my death shall prove a proud triumph; and, for every drop of blood ye from my veins do draw, your own shall flow in rivers. Woe to thee, Carthage! Woe to the proud city of the waters! I see thy nobles wailing at the feet of Roman senators! thy citizens in terror! thy ships in flames! I hear the victorious shouts of Rome! I see her eagles glittering on thy ramparts. Proud city, thou art doomed! The curse of God is on thee a clinging, wasting curse. It shall not leave thy gates till hungry. flames shall lick the fretted gold from off thy proud palaces, and every brook runs crimson to the sea."

41. SPARTACUS TO THE GLADIATORS AT CAPUA.-E. Kellogg.

It had been a day of triumph in Capua. Lentulus, returning with victorious eagles, had amused the populace with the sports of the amphitheatre to an extent hitherto unknown even in that luxurious city. The shouts of revelry had died away; the roar of the lion had ceased; the last loiterer had retired from the banquet, and the lights in the palace of the victor were extinguished. The moon, piercing the tissue of fleecy clouds, silvered the dew-drops on the corselet of the Roman sentinel, and tipped the dark waters of the Vulturnus with a wavy, tremulous light. No sound was heard, save the last sob of some retiring wave, telling