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dezvous of the first division, headed by the King in person, was to be at Shrewsbury; that of the second, under the joint command of the Earls of Stafford and Warwick, and the Barons Abergavenny, Audley, and Berkeley, at Hereford; and that of the third, under the direction of Prince Henry, at Chester: the forces were to be assembled at each place by the 27th of August.

nesses among the mountains, driving the cattle from the plains, and detroying every means by which the enemy could procure food for themselves, or forage for their horses. The English, willing to conceal their shame, attributed the cause of their disgrace to the incantations of the British Chieftain, who, as Holinshed expresses it, "through art magick, (as was thought,) caused such foul weather, of winds, tempest, raine, snows, and hail, to be raised for the annoyance of the King's army, that the like had not been heard of." Perhaps Glyndwr, as well to infuse terror into his foes, as to give his own people a more exalted notion of his powers, might politically insinuate his skill in spells and charms. This species of credulity was in full vigour at that time, and it is not improbable that Glyndwr might have endeavoured to influence his followers, by pretending to a proficiency in the mystic arts of sorcery and divination. (To be continued.)

Owain beheld these formidable preparations without dismay, and continued to devastate the country, destroying the principal towns in Glamorganshire, the inhabitants of that district having refused to embrace his cause, and receiving from all other parts of Wales fresh succours and supplies.

At the time appointed, Henry and his generals advanced towards the Principality; and Glyndwr, too prudent to hazard an engagement with a force so superior, in every respect, to his own, again retired to the fast

Anacreontic.

GIVE me a bumper of ruby wine,

Give me a glance of thy laughing eye,
And I would not my place at this table resign
For Jove's, who sits tippling all day in the sky.
Ganymede stands with his nectar before him,
Juno, the blue-eyed, sits smiling beside him;
The gods lying round, all in silence adore him—
Woe to the tongue that would venture to chide him!
Let them gulp down etherial nectar for ever,
Such spiritless liquor shall never be mine,

And Ganymede, Bacchus, or Jove would be clever,
Could they prove that it equall'd the juice of the vine.

And who, in his senses, would ever compare
Proud Juno the vixen, dear Jessy! to thee?

Were Jove to come down through the regions of air,
He would gaze on thy face, and would fall on his knee;

And then my dear Jessy would frown in disdain,
And tell the poor god to get up and be gone,-
For you would not desert your terrestrial swain,
As long as he left you a will of your own.

Jove would look sheepish, and slowly depart,
And, sighing, return to his soft bed of roses,
Where, venting the anger that lurk'd in his heart,

He would cudgel the gods, or perhaps pull their noses:
And then you and I would fill bumpers of wine,
And crown them with flowerets of loveliest hue,
And still as we saw the lov'd beverage decline,
We would smile on each other, and fill them anew

UNPARALLELED INSTANCE OF SUICIDE BY VOLUNTARY STARVATION.

[The following narrative appeared some time ago in a public Journal, where it seems to have attracted little notice, notwithstanding the extraordinary, or rather unparalleled, circumstance it relates. We have subjoined a translation of the lines written by Viterbi, on the 16th day that he had abstained from food.]

WHOEVER reflects upon the sad weakness of human nature-on the fatuity of man, when he suffers his mind to be subdued by the assaults of pain, and yields to the depression of his physical powers-will hardly credit the prolonged tenacity of Viterbi, his invincible resolution to die inflexibly persevered in, unmoved by the pangs of hunger, which is the cause of the commission of so many crimes. An extacy of enthusiasm sufficed to impel Cato to stab himself, and with his last sigh Roman liberty expired. It was also the enthusiasm of liberty which rendered Mutius Scævola insensible to the fire in which he thrust his hand, when he found that he had mistaken his victim. Socrates, on drinking the poisoned draught, conversed with his friends, and his dying hour was consoled by the conviction of the immortality of his soul, and that of his wisdom; the poison freed him from earth, and opened to him the gates of heaven! Men have been seen, especially amongst the martyrs, to endure, with a constancy almost divine, the necessity of a horrible death but, again I repeat it, no exercise of will ever bore a parallel to the perseverance of Luc Antoine Viterbi.

Condemned to death as an accomplice in the assassination of Frediani, a crime which he denied to the last moment, Viterbi appealed against a sentence passed upon him by a Court composed of his personal enemies. I shall abstain from investigating this point, and merely state the facts, that the sentence was confirmed that the Court of Cassation, not having found any informality in the application of the law, was bound to pronounce its validity; and, finally, that the petition of the friends of Viterbi, to obtain his pardon, was ineffectual.

Indulgence, and even respect, is due to honest error; but the strength of mind displayed by Viterbi is not less admirable. Read what follows,

and say whether you do not think it equal to any thing in the history of the first Romans.

Towards the end of November, Viterbi (knowing his condemnation, and being confined in the prison of Bastia, where he was guarded in the same manner as are all those who are sentenced to death) resolved to die. To effect this purpose, he abstained from food during three days, and then ate voraciously, and to a forced excess, in the hope that, after fasting so long, he should thereby put an end to his existence. Nature deceived him, and, on the 2d of December, he determined to starve himself to death. From that day, nothing could subdue this ter rible resolve; although Viterbi, who had already sustained two dangerous attacks of illness, did not expire until the night of the 21st of that month. Let us now venture to lift the veil of this endurance of progressive agony, follow its phases during an incredible interval of eighteen days,— and, above all, bear in mind, that the death to which he was doomed was the punishment of Tantalus. The jailor was careful to supply him daily with meat and drink.

During the three first days, Viterbi, as was the case when he made the first attempt, felt himself progressively tormented by hunger, and did not endure these early sufferings with less courage than he had shewn on the former occasion. Under these circumstances, a report was made to the public Minister, who ordered bread, water, wine, and soup, to be taken daily to his cell, and placed conspicuously in view. This order was punctually executed until the day of his death; but Viterbi always caused the provisions of the preceding day to be distributed amongst his fellow-prisoners, without ever tasting the fresh supply. No debility was manifest during these three days; no irregular muscular move

ment was remarked; his ideas continued sound, and he wrote with his usual facility.

From the 5th to the 6th, to famishment insensibly succeeded the much more grievous suffering of thirst, which became so acute, that, on the 6th, (and he had not, as yet, undergone a fourth part of the terrible agonies which were to end in death,) without ever deviating from his resolution, he began to moisten his lips and mouth occasionally, and to gargle with a few drops of water, to relieve the burning pain in his throat; but he let nothing pass the organs of deglutition, being desirous not to assuage the most insupportable cravings, but to mitigate a pain which might have shaken his resolution. On the 6th, his physical powers were a little weakened; his voice was, nevertheless, still sonorous, pulsation regular, and a natural heat equally extended over his whole frame. From the 3d to the 6th he had continued to write; at night, several hours of tranquil sleep seemed to suspend the progress of his sufferings; no change was observable in his mental faculties, and he complained of no local pain.

Until the 10th, the burning anguish of thirst had become more and more insupportable; Viterbi merely continued to gargle, without once swallowing a single drop of water; but in the course of the day of the 10th, overcome by excess of pain, he seized the jug of water, which was near him, and drank immoderately. During the last three days, debility had made sensible progress; his voice became feeble, pulsation had declined, and the extremities were cold. Viterbi, however, continued to write; and sleep, each night, still afforded him several hours ease.

From the 10th to the 12th, the symptoms made a slight progress. The constancy of Viterbi never yielded an instant; he dictated his journal, and afterwards approved and signed what had thus been written agreeably to his dictation. During the night of the 12th, the symptoms assumed a more decided character; debility was extreme, pulsation scarcely sensible, his voice extraordinarily feeble; the cold had extended itself all over his body, and the

pangs of thirst were more acute than ever. On the 13th, the unhappy man, thinking himself at the point of death, again seized the jug of water, and drank twice, after which the cold became more severe; and congratulating himself that death was nigh, Viterbi stretched himself on the bed, and said to the Gendarmes, who were guarding him, “ Look how well I have laid myself out." At the expiration of a quarter of an hour, he asked for some brandy; the keeper not having any, he called for some wine, of which he took four spoonfuls. When he had swallowed these, the cold suddenly ceased, heat returned, and Viterbi enjoyed a sleep of four hours.

On awaking (on the morning of the 13th) and finding his powers restored, he fell into a rage with the keeper, protesting that they had deceived him, and then began beating his head violently against the wall of the prison, and would inevitably have killed himself, had he not been prevented by the Gendarmes.

During the two following days, he resisted his inclination to drink, but continued to gargle occasionally with water. During the two nights, he suffered a little from exhaustion, but in the morning found himself rather relieved. It was then that he penned the annexed stanzas.

On the 16th, at five o'clock in the morning, his powers were almost annihilated: pulsation could hardly be felt, and his voice was almost wholly inaudible; his body was benumbed with cold; and it was thought that he was on the point of expiring. At ten o'clock he began to feel better, pulsation was more sensible, his voice strengthened, and, finally, heat again extended over his frame, and in this state he continued during the whole of the 17th. From the latter day, until the 20th, Viterbi only became more inexorable in his resolution to die; he inflexibly refused all offers of aliment, and even resisted the torturing pangs of thirst; not a drop of water did he swallow, although he still, from time to time, moistened his parched lips, and sometimes his burning eyelids, from which he found some relief to his agony.

During the 19th, the pangs of hunger and thirst appeared more

grievous than ever; so insufferable, indeed, were they, that, for the first time, Viterbi let a few tears escape him. But his invincible mind instantly spurned this human tribute. For a moment he seemed to have resumed his wonted energy, and said, in presence of his guards and the jailor, "I will persist, whatever may be the consequence; my mind shall be stronger than my body; my strength of mind does not vary, that of my body daily become weaker."

Le mie sventure sono tali e tante
Da spaventare un' Ercole, un Sansone:
Io non tremo; il coraggio e la ragione

Per resister' mi dan forza bastante.

Anima fiera, imperturbabil' cuore
Mi concesse la provida natura;
Ho di piu, netta la coscienza, e pura,
Dell' innocenza il nobile candore.

I miei nemici m 'hanno tolto un figllo,
Figlio infelice profugo sbandito;
Dall' insidie dé Lupi egli è fuggito,
E si è dannato ad un 'eterno esiglio.

Il mio oaro fratel buon Pietro è morio,
Dalle sventure vinto e non dagl' anni;

Di sollievo servirmi e di comforto.

A little after this energetic expression, which showed the powerful influence of his moral faculties over his physical necessities, an icy coldness Egli solo poteva in tanti affanni again assailed his body, the shiverings were frequent and dreadful, and his loins, in particular, were seized with a stone-like coldness, which extended itself down his thighs.

During the 19th, a slight pain at intervals affected his heart, and, for the first time, he felt a ringing sensation in his ears. At noon, on this day, his head became heavy; his sight, however, was perfect, and he conversed almost as usual, making some signs with his hands.

On the 20th, Viterbi declared to the jailor and physician, that he would not again moisten his mouth, and feeling the approach of death, he stretched himself on the bed, and asked the Gendarmes, as he had done on a former day, whether he was well laid out? and added, "" I am prepared to leave this world." Death did not this time betray the hopes of a man who, perhaps, since the creation, invoked it with the greatest fervour, and to whom it seemed to deny its cheerless tranquillity.

On the 21st, Viterbi was no more. Until the day of his death, this inconceivable man had regularly kept his journal. The delivery of it to his family was refused.

The following is an accurate copy of the lines written by this extraordinary sufferer, in the midst of his self-inflicted agonies:—

A un Amico.

Amico, sul mio capo empio destino
Versò tutto il suo sdegno, il suo livore
Gia mi tolse ogni fisico vigore

E al confin della morte io m'avvicino.

Un consiglio d' iniqui intenti al male,
Divorati da ingorda orrida brama
Di togliermi la vita e la mia fama,
Pervennero a compir' l'opra fatale.

Il falso, l'impostura, il tradimento,
Di potente nemico orride trame,
Servir di base alla sentenza infame
Dell' ingiustizia eterno monumento.

A tante iniquità l'Altitonante
Non si risveglia ancor? ne le tremende
Saette sue vendicatrici accende ?
Già le prepara ed è vicin l'istante.

Mi trove chiuso in fetido recinto
Ove luce del sol mai non penetra ;-
Ne pietà qui ne compassion' s'impetra
E son di ferri avvilupato e cinto.

Io di notturno Lume ai chiaror fioco
Veglio le notti intiere e veglio il giorno

Ne perchè notte faccia a me ritorno
Non modo io cambio mai ne cambio loco.

Inveterato mal fermo e costante
Lentamente mi sdrugge e de' miei guai
Cresce la massa e rassomiglio omai
Ad un vero cadavere parlante.

Avea de' beni; or consumato è il tutto;
Lascio sette figliuole e la consorte
Afflitte ed abattute dalla sorte

E per retaggio mio le lascio il lutto.

Piangan' le figlie mie del caso mio
Piangano l'innocente condannato,
Piangano sul fratello syenturato ;
E sulla tomba dell' estinto zio.

Da tanti strali trapassato il core,
Col sen ripieno di feral cordoglio
Pianger non debbo e piangere non voglio
Ma unisco al pianto loro il mio dolore.

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Far from the wolf's insidious snare he My children may with pious tears lament

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