ORIGINAL COMMUNICATIONS, CONSISTING OF TALES, ROMANCES, ANECDOTES, AND POETRY.

THE FRATRICIDE.

(A ROMANCE,)

BY LEIGH CLIFFE, ESQ.
CHAP. XVII.

From the dreams

Of youth, sweet Constance, hath not manhood still
A wild and stormy wakening? They depart,
Light after light, our glorious visions fade,
The vaguely beautiful, till earth unveil'd
Lies pale around; and life's realities

Press on the soul from its unfathom'd depth,
Rousing the fiery feelings and proud thoughts,
In all their fearful strength! 'Tis ever thus,
And doubly so with me; for I awoke
With bigh aspirings, making it a curse
To breathe.-

To breathe? It is not breath!

MRS. HEMANS.

The day dawn shed its first beams over the couch of the Duke, who rose from his care-cradled pillow unrefreshed by sleep to hail the approach of light, for to him darkness brought dread." It was to him like the glimpse of a distant watch-fire to the benighted traveller, and partially dispelled those terrors which had companioned his couch during the stillness of the night. Phagedena, who with the lady Faneli had watched in the anteroom during the few hours that the Duke had been in his chamber, hastened to receive his commands, and to inquire after his health.

"I am well, quite well, my good Phagedena," replied the Duke, endeavouring to assume a degree of calm composure, and teach his features to play the hypocrite with his feelings: "yesternight I was the weak slave of vapourish superstition; but today-aye, to-day reason resumes her reign, and must needs smile at my own folly. Where is my child, my sweet Faneli, who would not quit the side of her poor old father?"

"She awaits your Excellency's rising in the ante-chamber," replied the ancient dame; " dear lady, sleep hath not closed her eyes nor comfort

cheered her heart since you have been so sorely disturbed in your mind."

"Bid her come hither," said the Duke.

Faneli was almost instantly enfolded in the embrace of her father. She was too much overjoyed to give vent to her feelings in words, and the silent tear alone gave ease to her agitated heart. For some minutes both were silent. The Duke motioned Phagedena to retire, and when relieved of the presence of a third person, Caserta became more explicit, with regard to his fears and his faults, to Faneli than he had ever been to any being in existence. Still he spoke ambiguously—rather of reports than of realities: he hinted at the probability of conspiracies to reduce him to ruin, and then avowed his innocence; while the next moment he bewailed the fatal occurrence which had placed him in the power of others.

Faneli endeavoured to soothe his troubled mind, but even her dulcet voice could not bring back peace to a heart from which early guilt had driven her into exile.

"You bid me take comfort, my child," said the Duke, "but from whence is that sweet balm of sorrow to emanate? Is there one, save yourself, whose eye would be dimmed with a tear were my life to terminate this moment? Is there one who would not sacrifice me to their private interests, and while like Judas they betrayed me, excuse their conduct by pleading the justice of the deed? They would say they should sin like Saul of old, when he shewed mercy unto Agag, if they spared my hoary age. But no more of this, girl; no more, no more. I would speak to you now on another and more pleasing topic-your marriage, girl."

"Spare me now, my father," replied Faneli, let me first see you happy."

"Would to heaven 'twere not a vain wish," said the Duke, "but happiness and I have parted long ago; we were severed, Faneli, ere you opened your eyes on the world, and ere I close mine I would fain know that you were blest with the protection of Soldani. You have been unkindly treated by those whom Nature should have taught to cherish you with their love."

The tears stood in the eyes of Faneli. "Mention it not at this moment, my father," she said, “indeed I never tax my memory with these unkind remembrances."

"Thou art ever kind and gentle, girl, and that thy fate may be better, and thy life happier than

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