word. But in order to shield themselves from all suspicions, the artful tribunes told the citizens to assert, that it was in obedience to them their voices had been given, and now of their own desires they had retracted.

Just as Coriolanus was quitting the senate house, he was intercepted by the two tribunes, who informed him it was not safe to pass! The citizens were incensed, they said; and complained of his having mocked them; wherefore they now refused to acknowledge him as consul. All was instantly one scene of confusion. Coriolanus, who had, with difficulty, restrained his pride within any degree of control, now burst forth like flaming Etna. His generals, the good old Menenius, and many of his devoted friends, pleaded in vain. He was not to be appeased. He set the tribunes and the people at defiance; till the enraged multitude who had by degrees assembled, insisted on his being thrown down the Tarpeian rock. He then drew his sword, rushed amongst them, and cutting his way through, escaped to his own house, followed by Menenius, the generals, and several of the senators.

His fiery eye and enraged countenance alarmed his mother, who too soon learned the cause of his displeasure, and reproved him. He heard her reproof with impatience

Let them pull all about mine ears; present me
Death on the wheel, or at wild horses heels;
Or pile ten hills on the Tarpeian rock,
That the precipitation might down stretch
Below the beam of sight, yet will I still
Be thus to them.

Volumnia was displeased; she resented his pride and want of prudence, and excited his rage still further but fearful of inflaming him beyond control,

she urged him more calmly. Menenius assailed him too; and at lengt with very great difficulty

prevailed upon him to smooth his ruffled spirit, and return once more to the market place. It was still much against his will; yet such was his veneration, his idolatry for his mother, that he could not bear to see her offended or disturbed. He therefore to her made this sacrifice of his feelings; declaring at the same time, that were it only himself, they should crush him to dust, and scatter it against the wind, ere he would bow to popular outcry.

During this space of time, the envious, and malignant tribunes were busily employed corrupting the minds of the people; and well versed in what they should do, prepared to chafe the foaming lion, till he should be stunned by his own roaring. They succeeded but too effectually. Coriolanus had exerted his utmost strength; he had subdued himself, and was prepared to speak and answer mildly but this was not the mood in which the tribunes wished him to remain. Sicinius, the orator of the people, soon succeeded in ruffling the assumed serenity of Coriolanus. Presuming upon his authority, with cool deliberate insolence, he accused him of being

a traitor to the people; when the impatient hero burst out into the ut nost violence, both against Sicinius and the people, declaring that if one fair word would purchase their favour he would not bestow that word. The citizens now broke out in loud clamour-To the rock with him, To the rock with him " The tribunes, not choosing to hazard this mode of punishment, passed upon him the sen tence of banishment, which was unanimously agreed to--and such was the power (at this period) invested in, or rather usurped by the tribunes and the people, that the senators and patricians had but an abridged authority. Thus without trial or fair condemnation, the brave warrior, who had fought and bled in the cause and for the preservation of his ungrateful countrymen, was banished from his native land. He took a tender farewell of his wife, mother, children and friends, who followed him. weeping through the gates of the city-and when he tere himself from them, and hastened away, they gazed after him, till he was lost to their view, when they returned sorrowing to their several homes. /

Coriolanus, meantime, with folded arms walked swiftly forward, nor once cast a look behind, till he had reached a lofty hill at some distance from the city. He then began to reflect on all that had passed, and his proud heart swelled with disdain at the remembrance of his ungrateful country, to which he thus bade adieu

Imper 1 Rome, farewell-the cankerworm
Of foul ingratitude has tainted thee,
And thou art loathsome to my very thought.
Would any other lend had claimed my birth
Than ha ef Rome and have I lived to this,
Is 't thus ye do your warriors reward,

Who figh, and bleed, and Iring you conquests home?
Compost; to s vel your pride, and eel your Laseness
Ingratitude!! Thou poison to our blood

What deadlier sin infiames the human breast,
More mean, more abject, or inore infamous;
Thou 'rt to the soul, as vultures to the frame,
Inspiring torture,-torture without end,

Thy rankling wounds, not time itself can sooth;
Then hear me glorious Mars,-and grant my pray'r;
Vengeance be mine,-proud wretches, ye have sprung
A Hydra's nest;-but where's the Hercules,
Shall kill the monster, ye have madly raised!

Disgusted he turned away-and proceeded on his journey toward Antium; where, entering the house of Tullus Aufidius, and placing himself beneath a statue of Jupiter, he remained with his face covered, and without speaking. There was something so commanding in his appearance, that the servants did not venture to disturb his meditations: but they informed their master of the singular visitor, who had entered his dwelling. Tullus who was en

gaged with a large party at supper, made an apology to his friends, and went in search of this mysterious guest.

Coriolanus, discovering himself, told him brief, the conduct he had experienced; and giving him the choice to receive him as a friend, or treat him as an enemy-threw open his breast, to meet his Jagger's point, if such was his desire.

Tullus, charmed with the frankness-and noble spirit of Coriolanus, thus venturing himself in the power of an inveterate enemy-forgot all former hate; forgave that he had seven times been conquered by his mighty arm, and clasping him eagerly to his breast, conducted him in triumph to his guests -who received him as a god-and bowed to him with lowly devotion as to Mars himself. Tullus was preparing to invade the Roman territories; and Coriolanus, at the united request of himself and his friends, undertook to share the toils and danger with him.

The naine of Coriolanus, joined with their general, inspired the Volscians with a courage almost superhuman. They proceeded with fire and sword; and desolation marked their track. They moved but to conquer, and took spoils in abundance, in which Coriolanus, with his accustomed liberality, refused to partake. Victories innumerable were obtained, and horror and dismay spread through the Roman state.

The security of the worthless tribunes was now ended; and the unhappy people, who had been deluded by their arts, turned upon them with rage. The city was in despair. Cries and lamentations were heard on every side. Sacrifices were made to the gods, but their prayers were not regarded ; and after many days of anxiety, they at length heard that Coriolanus and Tullus Aufidius, with their victorious legions, were encamped within five miles of the city, even on the plains beneath that very hill, where the exiled Roman had breathed his vows of vengeance on his ungrateful countrymen.

Too late they repented their errors. The patricians reviled the citizens, attributing to their injustice the ruin which threatened them. The plebeians now wished to recall him, and various messengers were deputed; but in vain: Coriolanus was deaf to