"No, brave knight," she said, looking up for the strength seems to sit enthroned, can cut down a first time in the face of her deliverer, and the color host on the battle-field, as the reaper cuts down rose slightly in her cheek as she did so; " and thanks the tall grass of the field. No-no! sir stranger, to you who so generously perilled your own life to you put not your strength in hose and doublet, nor save mine." your faith in satin and trinkets. Come along with us; an' there be honor in Rodrigo de Castros, you are welcome to our roof." 66 Rodrigo de Castros!" echoed the knight. "The same," returned the old warrior. "And that young maiden ?" Is our daughter." "The beautiful Isabelle de Castros!-the white As he bowed in return, Isabelle stole another glance at the stranger-knight, who had meanwhile sprang upon his steed. His form was muscular and graceful, and somewhat above the middle height. On removing his helmet, he disclosed an open, manly and gallant countenance, which had been darkened by exposure to the climate—a full large blue eye, which, from its mild and gentle ex-Rose of Leon! A lovelier angel never stooped pression, belied the air of sternness and decision from Paradise to give us bright dreams of heaven! about his mouth; and a profusion of locks, dark as Forgive me, valiant De Castros, and you fair lady, the sable night without a star, played carelessly over his shoulders. He wore a suit of steel armor from throat to heel, made of a great number of rings, beneath which the well turned knee, the finely proportioned limb, and the delicate ankle, could plainly be seen. No youthful sculptor, even in his brightest dreams, ever imaged a form more perfect-a face more peerless. Isabelle had scarcely finished her survey of the cavalier, before her father and several of his huntsmen came up with her palfrey. Right joyful was the old warrior at the sight of his daughter in safety; but when he was told of her danger and rescue from it, his thanks to her deliverer were many and warm. 46 that I did not before accept your invitation. Men call me Amadour de Mendoza, and I was on my way to your castle, when, thank Heaven, a scream as from one in distress, drew me to this spot in time to save the life of your daughter." "The son of my old friend, and the deliverer of my daughter," said the old warrior, "is thrice welcome to my castle. If there be knight on earth, to whom my gates should willingly be thrown open, that knight is Amadour de Mendoza. How now, my sweet Isabelle-the glance of his eye will not harm thee. Were he the unknown and nameless adventurer that his speech averred-ay, were he fifty times the obscurest page that ever lay at thy feet, his gallant action should be rewarded by thy sunniest smiles!" 66 Now, by'r lady," said he-than whom none more admired courage and address-" Now, by'r 'Desist, my father," said Isabelle, dropping her lady, a gallant action and a brave !-come with us, veil over her fair face, as much to hide her blushes sir stranger-knight. Why," he cried, as he glan-as to conceal it from the glowing eyes of the youthced, well pleased, at the cavalier-"Why, here is a ful knight; as the rose that heedlessly drinks martial and a stately figure! What strength!-what spring's fresh shower, folds its rich leaves from grace!-what perfection in every thing! I'll wager the too-warm glance of the summer's sun. we are blessed with the presence of some valorous knight, who has written his fame in the blood of a hundred gallant battles; or, perchance, some bright angel has wandered from heaven to protect our daughter, whom all good angels love!" "Neither the one nor the other," said the stranger, blushing at the eulogy-" but an unknown adventurer, who is content to hear himself styled the protector of defenceless beauty, and the meanest champion of his country." "What next!" cried Don Rodrigo, with sparkling eyes-"what next! Thou unknown-thou a mean defender of our land-a protector of silks and fringes of painted fooleries, and heartless fopperies of conceit, affectation, and deceit-out upon thee, man! the speech befits not thy stern lip." "An' thou wert not my elder," said the strangerknight, in the same jocular tone, "I would splinter this good lance a thousand times in defence of this fair lady, and all bright angels would aid me." They proceeded to the castle gate, which was hospitably thrown open, and Don Rodrigo again gave warm welcome to his guest, and the antiquated walls rung merrily with shouts and songs. Isabelle waved her scarf in token of welcome, and hastening to the chapel of the castle, she threw herself before the image of the Virgin. When she rose from her devotions and stole with a subdued step over the marble pavement of the chapel, there was a soft and pensive light in her eye, and a slight flush upon her delicate cheek, that might be seen on that of an angel, as it bends in holy prayer in the golden temples of Paradise. “A brave speech," returned the old warrior," and In the days of chivalry, love was often the doubtless you can support it bravely. That hand growth of a moment. That which in latter times can wield a lance right gallantly-that arm, on which is too often the result of selfish purposes and unholy VOL. VI.-3 views, and which, with a feebler and a colder pow- Amadour sat in his chamber; but he noted not the er, seems to people our common earth with the loveliness of the landscape, and he heard not the brightest visions of heaven, and throng it with the nightingale's song. The form of the fair Isabelle fairy forms of hope and joy and peace; was then that in fancy gleamed brightly before him, was the elysium of an hour, the birth of an instant-lovelier than the moon-beam that shone through the but fully matured; and oh! how bright, how pure, veil of night, and the eye of the loved one was how rich, how steeped in the very aroma of hope brighter than the star that studded its dark blue and happiness! vault. "I have seen her," said the young knight, "I have seen her-but, alas! the wave that methought bore me to the portal of my brightest hopes, hath plunged me in the abyss of misery and misfortune. She loves me not! That love which would throw a halo on my path, is denied me-the sweet vision that has haunted my pillow so long, is the veriest delusion that morning's light ever chased away. I The lady of his love was to the brave young knight, the treasury of his highest, holiest, noblest thoughts; and when she graced with her presence the banquet, the festival, or the tournament, he marked her approbation in the glance of her bright eye, or in the smile of her fair lip. Her influence was gentle but unbounded, and turned on him like the eye of a beautiful portrait, in whatever position he stood, and under whatever circumstances he will to bed, to sleep, perchance to dream-to dream might be placed. The heart-stirring hope of gain-of her, and fashion hopes of joy." ing her hand, induced him to the practice of those As he spoke, he knelt before a relic erected upon noble virtues which were the main principles of a small altar in the chamber, and added : chivalry, and was a proud and worthy incentive to arduous enterprises and perilous adventures. His purest prayers, his bravest deeds, his most glorious achievements, were offered to her whom they were meant to distinguish, as the novice would render his devotions to an enshrined saint, with all the ardor and fervency of a devoted worshipper. "Sweet Saint!-strengthen me in that I am weak; and oh! let not evil passions overcome me. Let memory of thee, shield me from all bad thoughts and purposes. And oh!-Sweet Saint of my fathers, watch over and protect her whom I love with an unhappy passion, but who is still my star of hope on this stormy and troubled sea." His eye rested on a figure that stood near the curtain of the room, so slender and delicate, that he imagined he could see the moon-beams through it. And as he gazed, there was something so un could scarce but deem it some visitant from another world, invoked by his prayers. "Speak," said the knight-" why art thou here; and what seekest thou at this late hour?” "I bear message to the noble Amadour, from the Donna Isabelle," answered the voice. It was twilight, and Amadour de Mendoza sat “Of whom dost thou pray?"—said a sweet voice alone in his chamber. One side of the apartment near him. "Of her," replied the noble Spaniard, was screened from the night by a large broad cur-" whom I this day rescued from death; the pride of tain, heavily embroidered with gold, one end her father's heart, and the light of her devoted lovof which swept the floor, and the other was sup-er's eyes;-who art thou that askest?"—rising from ported by a square pillar of the whitest alabaster, the altar and looking in the direction of the sound. giving a distinct view of the outer world. It was one of those bright and glowing evenings, common to that once luxurious haunt of poetry and romance. Below, stretched spreading rice-fields, plantations of mulberry trees, shady palms, dark, stately cy-earthly in the form and transparent withal, that he presses and glowing laurels, over which the moon was pouring her flood of light and glory, lighting up as with the light of day, that unrivalled landscape of grove, bower, wood and hill, and throwing as it were, a glory around turret and dome and buttress of the ancient and venerable castle. Immediately under the casement, could be seen the garden-the delicious retreat, and under the peculiar care of the high-born beauty; from many an ala- "She thanks thee for thy gallant deed," continubaster fountain gushed forth the silver spray, leap-ed the voice, without noticing, or seeming to notice ing up as if to kiss the stars that peeped into their the interruption. "She more than thanks thee; and broad bright mirrors; the nightingale too, from the in token of her gratitude, she offers whatever thou cool foliage of many an orange-grove, sent forth its may'st demand and she can justly bestow." thrilling song, as if afraid to imprison one musical note in its soft radiant breast; while from many a bed of jessamines, and many a mound of geraniums and tamarisks, roses, myrtles, pomegranates and lilies, stole the night-breeze, shedding the rich perfume of all upon the air;-completing one of those delicious scenes of a land which the exiled Moor wept to leave, and which he still fondly hoped to regain ere the lapse of many years. "From the lovely Isabelle-and to me ?"—cried Amadour, thrilling in every vein. "Go to thy lady, damsel, and tell her all the knight Amadour, her beauty's most devoted worshipper, asks from her, is one gentle smile, and her kind remembrance.” "You do not know her, or you would ask more ;" said the voice, trembling with emotion. The words had scarce been breathed, before the veil which concealed her falling from her head, discovered Isabelle de Castros, pale, breathless and trembling. Her eyes met those of her lover, with that fond and nown, were no longer to be seen. The courts that gentle expression to which the lip is a useless once glittered with the arms and echoed to the interpreter. tread of her chivalry, are deserted and silent. Her kings and princes and heroes have gone down to the dust of the past, but will live in the remembrance of the world, until it ceases its admiration of the brave, the gallant and the chivalrous. Gra "Speak! speak again, gentle lady," said Amadour, passionately. "To speak to thee, to look upon thee, to hear the minutest accent of thy voice, I prize so highly, that to win the slightest of them all, I'd peril life and its sweetest blessings. Let nada, queenly Granada! me be thy knight-thy champion-anything to serve thee." Wend we now to Granada. It was in a chamber of the palace of the reWithout a word and with averted eyes and flush-nowned Muza Ali Hammed, situated within sight of ed cheeks, she took from her neck a white scarf-the Vermilion Towers, and immediately on the that beautiful token of lady-love-and placing it shore of the golden Darro, that a young and beauacross his steel cuirass, disappeared. tiful female reclined. The room was a model of Elated with hope, his warmest anticipations more eastern luxury and oriental magnificence, exquisitethan realized, the knight was again alone. It was ly and gracefully decorated with all that the most late before he retired, and when he did so, his sleep brilliant imagination, or the most refined taste could was accompanied by some of the brightest dreams depict. From its fretted ceiling was suspended a that ever visited lover's pillow. About that hour, golden censer, illuminating every object beneath it the darkest and gloomiest of the night, and which and hung around with vases that filled the room precedes its close, he was awakened from his sleep with an almost intoxicating fragrance; while, from by a loud noise at his chamber-door. Presently he its centre a small fountain threw up its sparkling heard the voice of Don Rodrigo, exclaiming : water, purifying and embalming the air. The walls "What, ho! Don Amadour up, up, as thou art a were covered with favorite scenes from some of noble knight. Our daughter hath disappeared, her the most fascinating of genii tales; wrought into pillow remains untouched, and she is no where to shape by some bright beauty of the land; with precious stones glowing with every hue and color, and so curiously and intricately embroidered as to baffle the closest research. A pile several inches deep, of rich carpeting, interwoven with costly stuffs, covered the tesselated floor, and a number of elegantly-wrought ottomans were strewn around the chamber. Such was the gorgeous retreat of a proud Moslem Lord. be found." "Now, by the faith of chivalry!" cried Amadour, leaping from his bed and throwing his armor hastily on; "I vow never more to return to this castle, without her person, or else tidings that her spirit wends with the angels of heaven!" "By my sword!"—said the old warrior-"a gallant vow, and said like a valorous knight of Spain!" CHAPTER III. Tis brave for Beauty, when the best blade wins her. A sun hath set-a star hath risen, Coleridge. The female who reclined on one of these ottomans, might well have been deemed an imprisoned Peri, weeping for the fragrant bowers of its fardistant Paradise. She was surpassingly beautiful, but the drooping head, the paled cheek, the terul eye, and the touching posture of her form, with her small white hands clasped over her heaving bosom, and her dishevelled hair floating over her shoulders in careless but beautiful ringlets; betrayed some deep and passionate grief, and the melancholy tendency of her musings. She had indulged in a sad reverie, when the door opened, and a figure in the long dark garb of a Moorish santon stood within the chamber. Granada, queenly Granada!—the seat of science and learning, the home of the sword and of the lyre, the bright and beautiful city of battle and of song! Granada, queenly Granada!—the glowing mother of chivalry, of romance and of poetry: beautiful in her rise, proud in her decline, glorious in her fall! To gain her, Moorish chivalry laid low "Noble lady," he said, bowing his head meekly— in the dust the steel-clad warriors of Spain; to re- "I come to counsel with you. I am not what my tain her, the children resting under the broad garb might indicate, but am of your own faith and branches of the sword-planted tree of their faith, country. Within this bosom there beats a heart unfurled on the bright blue seas their glorious pen- as true to thee, as does thine to virtue and innonon, and resolved to tower on the outstretched wings cence. Why weepest thou? Art thou reconciled of victory, or perish as perish the brave, the gene- to this splendor? Wilt thou desert thy noble father, rous and the valiant. And when at last her ruin for the wealth and love of the proud Moor within was written in the bloody autograph of battle, the whose palace you now rest?" light of the sacred crescent faded from the earth "Reconciled!" said the captive-" no, no, not forever, and a brave and heroic people, who had reconciled. I was walking unattended in my fafilled unnumbered ages with the glory of their re- thers garden, when a band of Moors seized me and bore me an unwilling prisoner to this place. pledged faith in lady's ear. Listen to my words, None came to rescue me-all, all have deserted me; noble Spaniard. On to-morrow, when the sun even he on whose valiant arm I relied, with deep-rises over the snowy summits of the Sierre Nevaest, fondest confidence. I am here a captive, and da, I, Muza Ali Hammed, will meet thee at the I fear will not long remain an honored one. Oh! gate of this our queenly city, which fronts your sir, you say you are of my faith-will you see a Christian camp, and run three courses-or more, freeborn Christian maiden held in bondage ?—you an' thou wilt-in all love and affection, for the hand have told me you are my countryman-will you, can of this fair lady. There lies my gage!" Before you, thus see a daughter of Spain dishonored and the Moslem's glove had touched the carpet, the debased? knight had seized it, and announced his glad acceptance of the challenge. "Despair not, noble maiden," replied the santon"despair not !—there is one near you who will peril all-all but hope of Heaven, to save thee." "Kind stranger, I know not of whom you speak, but I thank you for the only cheering words I have heard in my captivity." "And now farewell, bright saint, and a fair good rest be with you," said Amadour, kissing the delicate hand that was proffered him. “Farewell, valiant knight," whispered the beautiful captive-"and may Heaven and our Lady aid thee in the combat. Farewell my champion, my hero, and my love!" "He of whom I spoke," said the santon, with a tremulous voice, "wears thy scarf on his crest, and prefers death with thee, to life without thee." The day slowly dawned, and the Spanish camp "It is," said the beautiful captive-her voice as-(the most gorgeous that ever assembled under the suming its sweetest tones and her form its loftiest banners of the Cross) was still and hushed. Not majesty―" it must be, the noble knight Amadour, a sound was heard from the long rows of silken to whom your words allude. If thou knowest him, kind friend, bear my greeting to him and tell him, if indeed he loves me, as in his secret devotions I heard him vow, and as he is fondly and passionately beloved by me, that he now has good occasion to evince it." Now, by heaven, a thousand lives are all too poor to pay for the hearing of such blessed words!" cried the santon passionately, and in a voice that fell like sweetest music upon the ear of the captive. "He is true to thee! The minutest pulse in his frame rises and falls at thy will. He reads his brightest hopes in thy smile-he sees the blackness of his despair in thy frown. His hopes of happiness are mirrored in thine eyes, his heaven is imaged in thy pure and gentle breast. Isabelle! beloved Isabelle behold him at thy feet!" The santon threw aside his dark robes, and kneeling before her, displayed the face and the form of Don Amadour de Mendoza. So intent had been the lovers, that they did not notice the intrusion of a stately Moor, who had entered the chamber, and whose gorgeous costume bespoke his wealth and noble rank. tents and pavilions wherein slept the flower of Spanish chivalry; not a sound was heard without, save the weary tread of the sleepless sentinels. The stars were still shining bright and clear in heaven, and the moon was slowly sinking in the west like a queen to her gorgeous bridal-bed. The bright city of Moorish kings and princes, queenly Granada, slept as quietly and calmly as if no threatening army had been arrayed beneath its walls. The morn that was slowly and beautifully rising in the east, and throwing the light of her clear eye from its threshold over the earth, was the bright harbinger of a fearful doom to the Moors! It was to witness their last great battle with the conquering Spaniard, and their final and eternal extinction as a people! At length there was a murmur and a slight commotion in one of the tents near the royal pavilion, and before a great while, Don Rodrigo de Castros, and the knight Amadour in a splendid suit of mail, mounted upon his fleet and proud steed, accompanied by a gallant array of gentle knights, whose nodding plumes and silken pennons streamed in the azure air of morning; sought out the spot "I have said thou should'st be mine, lady fair," designated by the Moor. Scarcely had they arsaid the intruder, fixing on her eyes under whose rived at it, before a large body of Moorish cavalry, brilliant and dazzling light her own sunk. "And splendidly arrayed, swept through the gates of the by this good right arm, thou shalt. But charms such as thine, which surpass in loveliness the rich bloomy groves of Yemen, and almost outvie the enchantments of our own promised Elysium, are well worthy a contention that future troubadours may sing of in their fascinating strains. I have before heard of you, brave Christian," he said, after a moments pause, turning to the knight of Spain. "I know thee for a knight as noble as ever fought for his faith and his land, and I bespeak thee as true and loyal a lover as ever knelt at lady's feet, or capital. In their midst rode Muza Ali Hammed, gaily dressed, and riding a mettlesome barb that must have "smelt the battle afar off," for it was only with his utmost strength that the gigantic rider could rein him in. But it was not upon that stately form that the knight Amadour gazed; for immediately in its rear came, borne upon a gorgeous pillion, the beautiful and radiant Isabelle de Castros. High-souled thoughts rolled one after another over the mind of the lover-knight, as he riveted his eyes upon that graceful form, that bright and glowing face. Bowing low as his horse's mane to the lady | laughing at its threshold, has, with the mockish air of his love, and breathing a short and hurried of a sentinel, waved him away. prayer to his Guardian Saint, he struck the spurs into the noble animal, and the bold courser reared up like an eagle flapping its wing for flight, and the flash of its eye was like the gleam of a blood-red banner on the tide of battle. Suffice it, that after a short lapse of time, Don Amadour de Mendoza was espoused to Isabelle de Castros, and many gallant sons and lovely daughters sprang from the happy nuptials, and Amadour lived long, to prove the power of woman's faith, the constancy and the purity of woman's love. THE NIGHT OF THE CORONATION. CORONATION OF VICTORIA J. BY MISS CHARLOTTE M. S. BARNES, OF NEW-YORK. The sun shot its first ray above the farthest snowcrested summit of the Sierre Nevada, the trumpets sounded, and in a twinkling each lance was in the rest. In another instant, up sprang, on moved, the gallant steeds;-in full career they met, with a terrible shock. Both lances were shivered into a thousand splinters. A loud and cheerful acclaim WRITTEN IN 1839, ON READING THE ACCOUNT OF THE burst from the Spanish camp, and was re-echoed along the walls of the Moslem city. Ferdinand sat at the entrance of his royal pavilion, spectator of the combat, surrounded by his gallant army; and Boabdil el Chico, anxious for the honor of his bravest chieftain, leaned from the walls of Granada, with a noble host of Moors, to witness the encounter. It was a glorious sight to see, was that now beheld by the chivalry of those proud foemen! All were again silent. Many a prayer was breathed by the Christians for their youthful knight, who sat on his steed like the proud victor of a hundred battles; and although the valiant Moorish chieftain bore the hard-won title of "The Terrible," many a Moslem trembled for the result of the perilous combat. And the fair "Rose of Leon" sat on her pillion, in a trance of fear and terror, invoking every Saint in the calendar to aid her heroic lover. Again the trumpets sounded, and again the champions met with a shock like a thunderbolt. Both remained firm as statues in their saddles. The Moor then wheeled his steed thrice around that of his antagonist, when Amadour struck his spurs deep into the sides of his horse, which rearing suddenly into the face of the fiery barb, transfixed his lance into his foeman's bosom. Muza Ali Hammed was borne from his saddle, and in another instant rolled in the dust, amid the deafening shouts of the whole Spanish army. "And all the people shouted, and said, God save the King!" It is the dead of night; all London is at rest; Amadour approached the lady of his heart as these shouts were still ringing, and knelt gracefully down before her. "Take her!" cried Don Rodrigo, "for you have nobly won her, and may you be as happy in her arms, as you are brave and valiant in the field!" While Her tired child, and strives to wrap her in the rags "What! In tears? That must not be. Hath saved two lives. "God bless thee, and repay tenfold Of charity to all, and trust in Heav'n. I now |