Green-Mountain freeman. [volume] (Montpelier, Vt.) 1844-1884, 1854-10-12
tflisfcilaneous.
THE IRON SHROUD.
4 TARILLING TALE.

This sterling story appeared, many years ago,
in Blackwood's Magazine, and was at the time
widely copied. In these days of the marvel
GUS it will, we think, draw attention for its
vigorous artistic effects
The castle Of the Prince of Tolf was built on
the summit of the towering and precipitous
rock Of Scylla, in all its grandeur. Here dur
ing the wars of the middle ages, when the fer
tile plains of Italy were devastated by hostile
factions, those prisoners were confined, for
whose ransom Il costly price was demanded.
Here, too, in dungeon, cxcavated deep in the
solid rock the miserable victims were immurcd,
whom revenge pursued, the dark, fierce, and
Implying revenge of an Italian heart.
Viren.io--the noble and the generous, the
fearless in battle. and the pride of Naples in her
sunny hours of peace-the young, the brave,
the proud Vivenzio fell beneath this subtle and
remorseless spirit. He was the prisoner of Tolf,
and he lanquished in that rock encircled dun
g2on, which stood alone, and whose portals
never opened twice upon living captive.
1t had the semblance of vast cage, for the
roof, and floor, and sides, were of iron, soldly
wrought, and spaciously constructed. High
above there ran Il range of seven grated VIM
dows, guarded with massive bars of the same
metal, which admitted light and air Save
these and the tall folding doors beneath them,
which occupied the centre, no clink or chasn
or projection, broke the smoothe black surface
of the walls. An iron bedstead Uttered with
straw stood in one corner !; and beside it, ves-
sci with water, and coarse dish filed with
coarscr food.
Even the intrepid soul of Viyenzio shrunk
with dismay as he entered this abode, and heard
the ponderous doors triple locked by the si-
lent ruflins who conducted him to it. Their
silence seemed prophetic of his fate, of the liv-
ing grave that had been prepared for him. His
menaccs and his entreatics, his indignant ap-
pcals for justice, and his impatient questioning
Of their intentions, were alike vain. They lis
tened, but spoke not. Fit ministers of crime
that should have no tongue.
How dismal was the sound of their retiring
steps! And as their faint echoes died along
the winding passages, fearful presage grew
within him, that never more the face, or voice,
Or tread of man, would greet his senses. He
had seen human beings for the last time; and
he had looked his last upon the bright sky, and
upon the smiling earth and upon beautiful
world he loved, and whose minion he had been
Here he was to end his life-a life he had just
begun to rcyel in And by what means By
secret poison Or by murderous assault! NJ
for then it had been needless to bring him
hithcr. Famine perhaps-a thousand deaths ii
one! 1t was terrible to think of it-but it wa'
yet more terrible to picture long, long years ol
captivity, in IA solitude 81 appalling, Loneliness
SO dreary, that thought, for want of fellowship
would lose itself in madness, or stagnate init
idiocy.
He could not hope to escape, unless he hat
the power, with his bare hands, of rending as
sunder tho solid iron walls of his prison. FL
could not hope for liberty from the re)entinl
morcios of his enemy. His instant death, unde
any form of refined cruelty. was not the objec
of Tolf, for he might have inflicted it, and h
had not. 1t was too evident, therefore, he wa
reserved for some premeditated scheme Of subtl
vengeance that could transcend in fienlish NAL
ice, either the slow death of famine, or the sti
slower one Of solitary incarceration, till the las
lingering spark of life expired, or till reaso
fled, and nothing should remain to perish Blu
the brute Functions of the bodya
1t was evening when Viyenzio entered hi
dungeon, and the approaching shades of nigh
wrapped his cell in darkness, as he paced Il
) and down. revolving in his mind these horribl
forebodings. No tolling bell from the castle, O
! from any noighburing church or convent struc
| upon lis eur to tell how the hours passed.
! Frequently he would stop and listen for som
sound that might betoken the vicinity of man
bat the soltud, of the desert, the silence of I'll
/ tomb, are not 50 still and deep as the oppressi,
e desolation by which he was encompassad II
t heart sunk within him. and he threw himsc
t dejoctcdly upon his couch of straw. Here slce
n gradually ohliterated the consciousness of mi
Q cry, and bland dreams waited his delight,
f spirit to scenes which were once glowing real
4 ties for him in whose ravishing illusions he SOC
II lost the remembrance that he was Tolf's pri
oner .,<..
When he awoke, 1t was daylight; but he
Q long he had slept knew not. 1t might be suit
Q noon, for he could measure time by no 9th
d note of its progress than light and darkne.
+ lie had been 80 happy In his sleep, amid frien
Q who loved him, and the sweeter endearments
+ those who loved him as friends could not, tn
h in the first moments of waking, his startl
IS mind seemed to admit the knowledge of his 8
II uation, as if it had burst upon it for the fl