What is that cry that meets his startled ear,
And sends a thrill of horror through his soul?
He hears the clash of arms, and a wild shriek
For mercy ;-is it ?-no, it cannot be.
Yet sure he knows that voice. With a wild leap
He gained the bank, and there-oh, sight of horror!Was his own brother, the fair, joyous boy
That he had left but one short hour before,
Fleeing in terror from the lifted lance
Of an armed horseman. Then, in that dread moment,
Raising his eyes in a wild search for help,
He saw his brother; then a thrilling cry
Of agony burst from those poor, pale lips :
Oh, save me, brother, save me! Mercy, mercy!"
Swifter than eagle darts upon his prey,
Swifter than lightning from the thunder-cloud,
Young Cola leapt-but ah, too late, too late!
Ere he could reach the spot, that coward shaft
Had pierced the young heart through; and Cola clasped But a pale, quivering corpse.
The horror of that scene!
What pen can tell
The boy lay dead,
The life-blood ebbing from the fatal wound,
And dyeing to one crimson hue the grass
Around the spot, clotting with his own gore
The child's long silken ringlets; on his arm
Hung a bright garland of fresh mountain flowers,
Sad emblems of the pure and innocent heart
Of him who culled them. Kneeling by his side
"Justice! my lord Colonna, justice! see My brother, but a child, thus foully murdered."
In speechless agony, Rienzi bent.
When lo! a glittering band of lords and knights,
As they swept past, reined in their fiery steeds,
To gaze upon the scene. Foremost of these,
There rode a stately, grey-haired chief; to him
Rienzi cried, half choked with passionate grief,
"Justice, my Lord Colonna, justice! see,
My brother, but a child, thus foully murdered."
Then spake the aged chieftain. What, young
Nay, who hath done this foul deed? An Orsini—
Thou shalt have justice, boy." E'en as he spoke,
A little band of warriors returned,
Dusty and hot, and weary from the chase.
Then he who seemed their leader, as he looked
Upon that lifeless form, and the pale youth
Who knelt beside it, cried, "What, young Rienzi !
Nay, by my faith, I deemed not it was he.
How came he, then, among the rabble throng
Of Martino di Porto, whom, but now,
I scattered, and, in scattering, slew the boy?
I grieve for the mischance, but he hath brought
His death upon himself. Here, boy, is gold;
Take it and pay for masses for his soul."
"Gold !" cried the youth, "gold for a brother's blood!
'Twas thy hand slew him. Justice, then, Lord Stephen,— Justice, for thou hast promised it; I will
Hush, be calm, for seest thou not
This was an error? Much I grieve for thee,
But such the chance of war. On, sirs, for Rome!"
So passed they on, with crest and nodding plume, And all the pomp and panoply of war.
What cared they, in their pride, for the wrung heart Of the plebeian boy, or for the bright
Young life that they had taken ?-So they passed, And left him there, alone beside the dead.
The last red beams of sunlight lingered still
On Aventine's dark hill, and touched with gold
The ruined fane of ancient Liberty,
And broken columns of the once fair temple
Of Juno, Queen of heaven; while dark and stern,
Looming against the glorious sunset sky,
In solemn state, rose proud Janiculum;
And far beyond, o'er all the rich Campagna,
The fair soft tints of the departing day
Passed with their changing hues. Old Father Tiber
Flowed on his course, one flashing stream of gold,
His murmur mingling with the mighty roar
Of the great city; while the holy bell
Pealed forth from many a convent far and near,
Borne on the silent evening air, in tones
Of soft sweet music. But he heard them not;
One voice alone rang echoing through his heart :
It was his brother's blood that cried to him
Out of the reeking earth, and called for vengeance.
Nought saw he of that glorious sunset scene;
He saw but his young brother's lifeless form
Stretched on the crimson sod; and as he thought
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