their expectations, were offered a lodging by the gaolers of Duke Siconolf, who told them that they had a spare apartment at their service. The merchants, after some trifling demurs, that they might not excite suspicion by seizing the offer too readily, agreed to the proposal, and promised to remunerate the gaolers by a small present the following morning. Meanwhile, they gave them some money, begging them to purchase a good supper, of which they should be well pleased for them to partake; and the gaolers, little suspecting the intentions of the travellers, accepted the invitation with readiness. Supper was prepared; the merchants pressed their hosts to eat heartily, and helped them frequently. to wine, assuming all the outward signs of good fellowship. By degrees the gaolers, who probably were not accustomed to such good cheer, found the wine mounting into their heads. They became too drowsy to join in the songs and tales of their companions; their eyes closed, in spite of their efforts to rouse themselves, and they at length sunk into a deep sleep. This was the event so anxiously desired. The merchants, springing from their seats, gave each other an intelligent glance, and with the utmost caution disengaged the prison-keys from the girdle of the head gaoler; then, seizing a light, they stole out of the room,

and hurried to the chainber in which the duke was

confined.

Siconolf had wasted the best years of his life in captivity. Hope had been so often quenched in disappointment, that he had sunk into a kind of moody despair, and never expected to behold the bright sun and starry sky again, except through the narrow window of his cell. He was in perpetual apprehension of death; for his brother was of so suspicious a temper, that he could never be secure against his signing his death-warrant in some fit of jealousy. He was ignorant that Sicard was no more; and the busy scene of existence seemed shut out from him for ever. All at once, while sitting in a melancholy posture, a prey to weariness and despair, he was startled by the rattling of gaolers' keys and the sound of strange voices. A glare of light broke upon his eyes, he found himself in the arms of his friends, and heard himself hailed by the title of Duke of Benevento. At such a moment, scarcely a regret for the death of the tyrannical Sicard could be expected to obtrude. Siconolf was free, though yet in danger; and, dizzy, intoxicated at the sudden flood of rapture, he suffered himself to be dragged away by his friends, and hurried to the port, scarcely able to convince himself that he was awake, till,

standing on the deck of his vessel, he felt the cool night-breeze fanning his feverish brow, and beheld the rapidly receding shores of Tarento.

The people of Amalfi were no sooner freed from the tyranny of Duke Sicard, than they "broke forth into singing" and rejoicings. They returned in a body to their forsaken city (whence they had been carried prisoners to Salerno), repaired their ruined homes, constructed new fortifications, and restored their republic to its former lustre.

Siconolf, though delivered from captivity, could not obtain possession of his crown without a long and bloody contest with the usurper. Each party took the dangerous measure of summoning to their assistance the Saracens from Spain and Africa. The infidels, after affording them temporary support, ravaged the south of Italy, and committed the most terrible excesses.

BARBAROSSA.

A. D. 1153.

LOMBARDY, ever since the assassination of Berenger, had been governed by a succession of German emperors, among whom were Otho the Great and his son and grandson of the same name,

It was during the reign of Berenger and the period immediately succeeding his death that the Saracens, having landed in the south, advanced into the very heart of Italy, committing terrible ravages on the unfortified and defenceless towns; while from the north poured swarms of sanguinary Hungarians, whose light cavalry scoured the country, and was vainly opposed by the heavily armed forces of the feudal nobles. These incursions, which at first sight appear terrible, were productive of a most beneficial change in Italy. The inhabitants of the different cities demanded the emperor's permission to defend themselves; a request which it would have been cruel indeed to have refused. It was granted; and the effect of the liberties thus bestowed on them was startling. Every town was

quickly fortified; every town

enrolled its in

habitants into a regular militia, and became capable of resisting domestic oppression no less than foreign invasion. The magistracy and citizens gradually learned to depend on themselves, and to despise their foreign yoke; and thus were laid the foundations of those republics which afterwards maintained so long a struggle for their freedom.

The first of these cities which dared to oppose a barrier to the German authority was Milan, the city most distinguished in Lombardy for its populous and flourishing condition. It soon excited

the attention of the emperor, Frederic Barbarossa, an ambitious and warlike sovereign, who ardently wished to crush the rising independence of the Italian states. For this purpose, he was no sooner raised to the German throne than he commanded all his vassals to be in readiness in two years' time to attend him on an expedition against Italy. He wanted nothing but an excuse for beginning the war, and this was speedily afforded him.

The Milanese had behaved with shameful cruelty to the inhabitants of Lodi, whom they had resolved to reduce to subjection. They besieged their city, which held out four years; and when it was at length taken, they pulled down the walls, and forced the inhabitants to seek shelter in the neighbouring villages. The wretched Lodese, thus driven from their homes, cherished the deepest hatred against the Milanese, and resolved to take the first opportunity of revenge.

Forty-two years had elapsed since the destruction of Lodi, when two citizens, hearing of the intended expedition of Barbarossa, hastened to Constance, where he happened to be at that time, threw themselves at his feet, and entreated that he would redress the injuries of their republic. The emperor, glad of any motive for pursuing his object, sent an imperative command to the Milanese to restore to the Lodese their ancient possessions.