than by the bloody wheel! Oh, Romaldi, forsake these cruel ways; you were born for nobler purposes!" "It may be so," he replied fiercely, "but I have sinned beyond the hope of pardon, and as I have lived so must I die !" Marcella looked upward with a glance of despair, then turning her eye languidly on Julian she again addressed the bandit; 66 Romaldi, a dying penitent prays of you that the innocent "Let him depart then," cried the robber wildly, at once divining her purpose; I will not answer for myself should I see you expire, and behold the cause still in my power!” "Go, Julian!" she murmured faintly. "Think not I can leave you thus, Marcella!" "Your safety," she repeated in faltering tones. 66 "I despise it!" exclaimed Julian. "Must I die thus, pleading in vain! Romaldi, by our love!" She laid her hand on the hand of the robber, grasped it firmly, and expired. Motionless, as if he feared to disturb his murdered wife by withdrawing his hand from her stiffening grasp, the bandit glared wildly on his former rival; till at length, yielding to conviction, his despair broke forth in a cry so loud and dissonant as to bring his affrighted followers around him. "Remove him," he exclaimed, pointing to the horror-struck Julian; "remove him from my sight ere frenzy impel me to a deed which a voice from the dead alone restrains." "And think you I will leave that slaughtered angel to the rude hands of robbers ?" cried Julian, "the rites of sepulture' "Remove him!" repeated the infuriated Romaldi in a voice of thunder, a voice his followers heard but to obey. Resistance was in vain; an hour scarcely had elapsed ere Julian found himself surrounded by his attendants, on the very spot where they had been surprized by the robbers, while the intervening space seemed like a fearful dream, which his feelings alone convinced him to be real. Faithful to his oath, in revealing the death of Marcella to her weeping father, Julian drew a veil over her disgraceful career and untimely fate. The suspicions of Gerbini were, however, aroused; and from a domestic who, unknown to his master, had been so placed as to gain a knowledge of the circumstance, he wrung an avowal of all that the lover had so vainly concealed. Incensed at the daring of a ruffian, whom the Count was taught to believe had forced his child from her home, and finally sacrificed her life to prevent her escape, he gave himself up a thirst of ardent and implacable vengeance. Eagerly availing himself of his power and influence, he took measures to surround Romaldi in his secret hold; and Julian only penetrated his design when it was on the eve of accomplishment. Dreading an event to which he knew the unhappy Marcella would have deprecated as the most terrible of evils, he pursued the steps of the Count to the recesses of the mountains only to witness the success of the enterprise in the capture of the robber. "Wretch!" exclaimed the exulting Gerbini, as they bound Romaldi, "think not to escape! Thy blood shall expiate the wrongs of my child!" "Alas!" cried Julian, bursting into the cavern, "you know not what you have done!" "How," said the Count, "is not this the ravisher, the assassin " "The husband of Marcella!" interrupted Romaldi haughtily; "you have murdered him whom your daughter would have died to save!" Gerbini, petrified at these words, turned to Julian for a denial; but read, alas! in his averted looks, a confirmation of the harrowing truth. The conviction was too appalling—he tottered and fell—they hastened to raise him, but in vain! In the conflict of his emotions the spirit of the Count had fled for ever. "He is dead!" cried the bandit; 66 the measure of my crimes is full-to the murder of Marcella I have added that of her father!" "This at least was involuntary," said Julian, shuddering; "and if my evidence "The voice of an angel could not save me," interrupted the robber firmly; a cowardly and cruel government thirsts for my blood. Be it shed then! life is worthless to me since the loss of my Marcella. Could I hope to rejoin her, but I am too far steeped in guilt." The prediction of Romaldi was speedily accomplished; no influence could have saved one who had long been the terror of a feeble state, and who, in the midst of the most cruel torments that avenging malice could inflict, preserved unshaken that fearless and indomitable spirit which triumphed alike over love and hatred. The wealth of the houses of Zuccaro and Gerbini, to the last of which Julian succeeded by the bequest of the Count, united to rear over the grave of Marcella a monastery, celebrated in after time for the richness of its endowments and the sanctity of its inmates. Two splendid monuments bearing the names and titles of the Count and his unhappy daughter, attracted the admiration of the gazing multitude, while a plainer tomb of unlettered marble was sometimes pointed to as the spot where reposed the ashes of Romaldi. The first Abbot, a pale ascetic, who, through an extended life of piety and benevolence was never known to smile, lies interred in the edifice which his munificence erected. His remains rest at the foot of the high altar; and near the spot is a plain tablet recording only the name of one long remembered in the prayers of the grateful,-Julian Zuccaro. PARADISE AND THE PERI. W. H. LEEDS. For an attempt so unusual as to ingraft an alien branch on the production of another writer, and for one so presumptuous as that which appears to challenge a comparison with the highly gifted bard of Lalla Rookh, some kind of explanation or apology seems necessary. The remark of a German critic, who, in speaking of the beautiful poem of which the title is here borrowed, has questioned the propriety of representing penitence as a gift more acceptable to heaven than any other, first suggested the idea of the following imperfect sketch. Mr. Moore's production is too well known to render it necessary to state more than that the Peri is here supposed to bear the tear of the penitent to the gate of Eden, but without its effecting her admission. As to manner, the writer must deprecate the least comparison with that of his model; for "He has no colours that like his can glow." To heaven the sparkling pearl she bore, Shah in his diadem ; And, as the ransom of her fate, |