gacious
counsellor. "Let us hold back; let us wait till the rebels commit
themselves by some odious outrage, and then hatred will unite the
waverers, and resentment lead them."

This counsel prevailed; the event proved its wisdom. To give excuse and
dignity to the delay, messengers were sent to Marino, whither the chief
part of the Barons had fled, and which was strongly fortified, demanding
their immediate return.

On the day on which the haughty refusal of the insurgents was brought
to Rienzi, came fugitives from all parts of the Campagna. Houses
burned--convents and vineyards pillaged--cattle and horses
seized--attested the warfare practised by the Barons, and animated
the drooping Romans, by showing the mercies they might expect for
themselves. That evening, of their own accord, the Romans rushed into
the place of the Capitol:--Rinaldo Orsini had seized a fortress in the
immediate neighbourhood of Rome, and had set fire to a tower, the flames
of which were visible to the city. The tenant of the tower, a noble
lady, old and widowed, was burnt alive. Then rose the wild clamour--the
mighty wrath--the headlong fury. The hour for action had arrived.
("Ardea terre, arse la Castelluzza e case, e uomini. Non si schifo
di ardere una nobile donna Vedova, veterana, in una torre. Per tale
crudeltade li Romani furo piu irati," &c.--"Vita di Cola di Rienzi",
lib. i. cap. 20.)

Chapter 5.III. The Battle.

"I have dreamed a dream," cried Rienzi, leaping from his bed. "The
lion-hearted Boniface, foe and victim of the Colonna, hath appeared
to me, and promised victory. ("In questa notte mi e apparito Santo
Bonifacio Papa," &c.--"Vita di Cola di Rienzi" cap. 32.) Nina, prepare
the laurel-wreath: this day victory shall be ours!"

"O, Rienzi! today?"

"Yes! hearken to the bell--hearken to the trumpet. Nay, I hear even now
the impatient hoofs of my white warsteed! One kiss, Nina, ere I arm for
victory,--stay--comfort poor Irene; let me not see her--she weeps that
my foes are akin to her betrothed; I cannot brook her tears; I watched
her in her cradle. Today, I must have no weakness on my soul! Knaves,
twice perjured!--wolves, never to be tamed!--shall I meet ye at last
sword to sword? Away, sweet Nina, to Irene, quick! Adrian is at Naples,
and were he in Rome, her lover is sacred, though fifty times a Colonna."

With that, the Tribune passed into his wardrobe, where his pages and
gentlemen attended with his armour. "I hear,