y air, the fever that yet lingered on his
exhausted frame. The night was exceedingly calm, the air clear, but
chill, for it was now December. He gazed intently upon those solemn orbs
to which our wild credulity has referred the prophecies of our doom.

"Vain science!" thought the Tribune, "and gloomy fantasy, that man's
fate is pre-ordained--irrevocable--unchangeable, from the moment of his
birth! Yet, were the dream not baseless, fain would I know which of
yon stately lights is my natal star,--which images--which reflects--my
career in life, and the memory I shall leave in death." As this thought
crossed him, and his gaze was still fixed above, he saw, as if made
suddenly more distinct than the stars around it, that rapid and fiery
comet which in the winter of 1347 dismayed the superstitions of those
who recognised in the stranger of the heavens the omen of disaster and
of woe. He recoiled as it met his eye, and muttered to himself, "Is such
indeed my type! or, if the legendary lore speak true, and these strange
fires portend nations ruined and rulers overthrown, does it foretell my
fate? I will think no more." (Alas! if by the Romans associated with the
fall of Rienzi, that comet was by the rest of Europe connected with the
more dire calamity of the Great Plague that so soon afterwards ensued.)
As his eyes fell, they rested upon the colossal Lion of Basalt in the
place below, the starlight investing its grey and towering form with a
more ghostly whiteness; and then it was, that he perceived two figures
in black robes lingering by the pedestal which supported the statue, and
apparently engaged in some occupation which he could not guess. A fear
shot through his veins, for he had never been able to divest himself
of the vague idea that there was some solemn and appointed connexion
between his fate and that old Lion of Basalt. Somewhat relieved, he
heard his sentry challenge the intruders; and as they came forward to
the light, he perceived that they wore the garments of monks.

"Molest us not, son," said one of them to the sentry. "By order of the
Legate of the Holy Father we affix to this public monument of justice
and of wrath, the bull of excommunication against a heretic and rebel.
WOE TO THE ACCURSED OF THE CHURCH!"

Chapter 5.VI. The Fall of the Temple.

It was as a thunderbolt in a serene day--the reverse of the Tribune in
the zenith of his power, in the abasement of his foe; when, with but a
handful of br