cious pledges of the blessings we have recovered: these are the charters of the emperor Charles the Fift, and of Ferdinand.

"I have been accused by some of having selfish motives for the conduct I have pursued, and that it is on this account I display the advantages that have been procured. I appeal to you, my lord archbishop, and to the viceroy's secretary, who stands near the cardinal, whether I did not, early in the present business, refuse a pension of two hundred crowns a month, which was offered me on condition I would undertake to dissuade the people from asserting their rights?"

(The prelate and secretary confirmed what he said.) "I will not puzzle you with a long speech, but shall conclude with giving you two pieces of advice-Not to lay down your arms till the confirmation of your pri vileges arrives from Spain, and not to place too much confidence in the promises of courtiers. I am now going to speak with the duke of Arcos, and shall probably return in a short time; but, if you do not see me safe and at liberty by seven o'clock to-morrow morning, you may take it for granted there has been treachery, and will, of course, take such methods of revenge as you may judge necessary.'

Masaniello was then conducted to the duke, with whom he had a long audience, and from the castle repaired to his own house, where he received the congratulations of the principal inhabitants of the city. For seven days, Masaniello was absolute master of the lives and fortunes of all in Naples, and had he ordered thousands to have been put to death, or the city to have been razed from its foundations, it would have been instantly done. During the whole of the time he conducted himself with a prudence, regularity and foresight, as praiseworthy as it was unexpected; but, whilst he was thus enjoying that first, best pleasure of power and influence, the consciousness of having exerted it for the welfare of mankind, this popular leader was struck with a malady which levels the proud lord of

the creation with the meanest reptile he crushes on the ground.

From fatigue of body and mind, as he scarcely allowed himself the necessary refreshments of food and sleep, or, as was suspected, but never proved, from the effect of intoxicating drugs infused in his liquors, symptoms of frenzy and madness appeared. He treated his associates and friends with insolence, outrage, and abuse; tore his clothes from his body, and rode with a drawn sword furiously through the streets, wounding and killing many persons. The Neapolitans beheld the deplorable state of their favourite with deep regret ; and, after receiving assurances from the viceroy that whatever he had promised should be sacredly performed, and that their privileges should remain inviolate, they declared that Masaniello was no longer their general and the council, fearing the most dreadful consequences from a madman at the head of a mob, sent a military detachment with orders to put him to death.

The unfortunate fisherman had been haranguing the people from the pulpit of the great church in an incoherent mixture of reproach, justification, and penitence; for he perceived he had lost the confidence of his followers. From the church he was conducted into an adjoining cloister, struggling in the agonies of disease, madness, and despair. Hearing his name mentioned, he turned quickly round, saying, "Is it me you look for, my people?-behold, I am here."-The soldiers at the instant discharged their muskets, and he dropped on the pavement, exclaiming, with his last breath, "Ah, ungrateful traitors!"

A magnificent funeral followed his death. The reign of the fisherman is still handed down among the lower classes of Naples, by popular tradition; and the modern lazzaroni, alternately excited by superstition, hunger, and sedition, dwell with enthusiasm on the short but splendid triumphs of Masaniello.

The obnoxious taxes in a short time were again

levied, and again produced ineffectual resistance; so unavailing are attempts at amendment in governments radically defective in their form.

THE LAWYER'S FAREWELL TO HIS MUSE.

As, by some tyrant's stern command,
A wretch forsakes his native land,
In foreign climes condemu'd to roam,
An endless exile from his home;
Pensive he treads the destined way,
And dreads to go, nor dares to stay;
Till on some neighbouring mountain's brow
He stops, and turns his eye below;
There, melting at the well-known view,
Drops a last tear, and bids adieu:
So I, thus doom'd from thee to part,
Gay Queen of Fancy and of Art,
Reluctant move, with doubtful mind,
Oft stoop, and often look behind.
Companion of my tender age,
Serenely gay, and sweetly sage,
How blithesome were we wont to rove
By verdant hill, or shady grove,
Where fervent bees, with humming voice,
Around the honey'd oak rejoice,
And aged elms, with awful bend,
In long cathedral walks extend!
Lull'd by the lapse of gliding floods,
Cheer'd by the warbling of the woods,

How blest my days, my thoughts how free,

In sweet society with thee!

Then all was joyous, all was young,

And years unheeded roll'd along!

But now the pleasing dream is o'er;

Those scenes must charm me now no more:

Lost to the field, and torn from you,—

Farewell! a long, a last adieu.

Me, wrangling courts, and stubborn law, To smoke, and crowds, and cities draw; Here selfish Faction rules the day, And Pride and Avarice throng the way: Diseases taint the murky air, And midnight conflagrations glare; Loose Revelry, and Riot bold, In frighted streets their orgies hold; Or, when in silence all is drown'd, Fell Murder walks her lonely round; No room for peace, no room for you: Adieu, celestial nymph, adieu!

Shakspeare no more, thy sylvan son,

Nor all the art of Addison,

Pope's heaven-strung lyre, nor Waller's ease,
Nor Milton's mighty self must please.
Instead of these, a formal band,

In furs and coifs, around me stand,
With sounds uncouth, and accents dry,
That grate the soul of harmony.
Each pedant sage unlocks his store
Of mystic, dark, discordant lore;
And points, with tottering hand, the ways
That lead me to the thorny maze.

There, in a winding, close retreat,
Is Justice doom'd to fix her seat;
There, fenced by bulwarks of the law,
She keeps the wondering world in awe;
And there, from vulgar sight retired,
Like eastern queens, is more admired.

O let me pierce the secret shade,
Where dwells the venerable maid!
There humbly mark, with reverent awe,
The guardian of Britannia's law,
Unfold with joy her sacred page,
(The united boast of many an age,
Where mix'd, yet uniform, appears
The wisdom of a thousand years);
In that pure spring the bottom view,
Clear, deep, and regularly true,

And other doctrines thence imbibe,
Than lurk within the sordid scribe;
Observe how parts with parts unite,
In one harmonious rule of right;
See countless wheels distinctly tend,
By various laws, to one great end;
While mighty Alfred's piercing soul
Pervades and regulates the whole.

Then welcome business, welcome strife,
Welcome the cares, the thorns of life:
The visage wan, the purblind sight,
The toil by day, the lamp at night,
The tedious forms, the sullen prate,
The pert dispute, the dull debate,
The drowsy bench, the babbling hall,
For thee, fair Justice, welcome all.
Thus though my noon of life be past,
Yet let my setting sun, at last,
Find out the still, the rural cell,
Where sage Retirement loves to dwell!
There let me taste the home-felt bliss
Of innocence and inward peace;
Untainted by the guilty bribe;
Uncursed amid the guilty tribe;
No orphan's cry to wound my ear,
My honour and my conscience clear ;-
Thus may I calmly meet my end,
Thus to the grave in peace descend.

Sir W. Blackstone.

AN HONEST COURTIER.

WHEN Peter the Great of Russia began the canal of Ladoga, he ordered all the landholders of the governments of Novogorod and Petersburgh to send their peasants to work on it, and signed an ukase to that effect in full senate.