and the name of the Knight was not afterwards mentioned without that of the field of his glory. But .

“ The Knights are dust,

And their good swords are rust," and all that they did lives only in the page of the poet. “Their escutcheons have long mouldered from the walls of their castles. Their castles themselves are but green mounds and shattered ruins—the place that once knew them knows them no more-nay, many a race since theirs has died out and been forgotten in the very land which they occupied, with all the authority of feudal proprietors and feudal lords. What then would it avail the reader to know their names, or the evanescent symbols of their martial rank!"

Theirs was not true glory. There is another glory, the most durable and the most estimable—it is that which follows great services rendered to mankind by great goodness and great genius. That navigator who gave one half of the world to the other half-that poet whom Milton calls, “Dear son of memory, great heir of fame” —those defenders of religion who feared not principalities and powers, but counted their lives cheap, so that they showed the truth and established it; and that peaceful legislator who gave his name to the wild woods, and laid the foundation of a state, according to the rules of the gospel, have all benefited mankind, and inherit true fame.-One by his immortal"pen has sweetened and gladdened life, and the others by their divers labours, have relieved men from burthens grievous to be borne.

-They have taken off fetters from the human understanding, have given a wider sphere to human intelligence, and a better direction to human conduct.

As was very natural, the ancient warriors held their horses in high esteem: they even fancied that this most beautiful of animals entered into their feelings, and partook of their glory or their grief. The rider would

The noble steed as if he felt himself

In his own proper seat.-Look how he leans
To cherish him; and how the gallant horse
Curves up his stately neck, and bends his head,
As if again to court that gentle touch,

And answer to the voice that praises him.” And upon the spot where his lord might afterwards have been slain or conquered, this faithful animal would sometimes be found,

his silver mane
Sprinkled with blood, which hung on every hair
Aspersed like dew drops-trembling there he stood
From the toil of battle, and at times sent forth
His tremulous voice, far echoing wide and shrill,
A frequent anxious cry, with which he seemed
To call the master whom he loved so well,

And who had thus again forsaken him.” These verses of Mr. Southey's describe Orelio, the warhorse of Roderick, the last Gothic king of Spain.

Attachment and admiration for the horse appear to be almost universal. The Hebrew poet, whoever he was, who composed the book of Job, has given a sublime description of the war-horse:

“ Hast thou given the horse strength? hast thou clothed his neck with thunder? Canst thou make him afraid as a grasshopper? the glory of his nostrils is terrible. He paweth in the valley, and rejoiceth in his strength : he goeth on to meet the armed men. He mucketh at fear, and is not affrighted; neither turneth he back from the sword. The quiver rattleth against him, the glittering spear and the shield. He swalloweth the ground with fierceness and rage : neither believeth he tha it is the sound of the trumpet. He saith among the trumpets, Ha, ha; and he smelleth the battle afar off, the thunder of the captains, and the shouting.”


EXTRACT FROM PALAMON AND ARCITE. “In Athens all was pleasure, mirth and play, All proper to the spring, and sprightly May.

Now scarce the dawning day began to spring, As at a signal given, the streets with clamours ring : At once the crowd arose ; confus'd and high E'en from the heay'n was heard a shouting cry. The neighing of the gen'rous horse was heard, For battle by the busy groom prepar'd; Rustling of harness; rattling of the shield; Clatt'ring of armour, furbish'd for the field. Crowds, to the castle, mounted up the street, Batt'ring the pavement with their coursers' feet : The greedy sight might, there, devour the gold Or glitt’ring arms, too dazzling to behold: And polish'd steel that cast the view aside, And cresled morions, with their plumy pride. Knights, with a long retinue of their squires, In gaudy liv’ries march, and quaint attires. One lae'd the helm, another held the lance : A third the shining buckler did advance. The courser paw'd the ground with restless feet, And, snorting, foam’d, and champ'd the golden bit. The smiths and armourers on palfreys ride, Files in their hands, and hammers at their side, And nails for loosen'd spears, and thongs for shields pre

vide. The yeomen guard the streets in seemly bands; And clowns come crowding on with cudgels in their

The trumpets, next the gate, in order, plac'd,
Attend the sign to sound the martiał blast;
The palace-yard is fill'd with floating tides.

* * * * * *
The throng is in the midst : the common crew
Shut out, the hall admits the better few ;
In knots they stand, or in a rank they walk,
Serious in aspect, earnest in their talk :

Factious, and fav’ring this, or t’ other side,
As their strong fancy, or weak reason guide:
Their wagers back their wishes; numbers hold
With the fair-freckled king, and beard of gold :
So vig'rous are his eyes, such rays they cast,
So prominent his eagle's beak is plac'd.
But most their looks on the black monarch bend,
His rising muscles, and his strength commend :
His double-biting axe and beamy spear,
Each asking a gigantic force to rear.
All spoke as partial favour mov'd his mind :
And, safe themselves, at others' cost divin’d.

Wak'd by the cries, th' Athenian chief arose,
The knightly forms of combat to dispose ;
And passing through th' obsequious guards, he sate
Conspicuous on a throne, sublime in state;
There, for the two contending knights he sent :
Arm'd cap-a-pee, with rev’rence low they bent;
He smild on both, and with superior look
Alike their offer'd adoration took.
The people press on every side, to see
Their awful prince, and hear his high decree.
Then signing to the heralds with his hand,
They gave his orders from their lofty stand.
Silence is thrice enjoin'd; then thus, aloud,
The king-at-arms bespeaks the knights, and listening

Our sovereign lord has ponder'd in his mind
The means to spare the blood of gentle kind;
The keener edge of battle to rebate,
The troops for honour fighting, not for hate.
He wills, not death should terminate the strife;
And wounds, should wounds ensue, be short of life :
But issues, ere the fight, his dread command,
That slings afar, and poniards hand to hand,
Be banish'd from the field; that none shall dare
With shortened swords to stab in closer war;
But in fair combat fight with manly strength,
Nor push with biting point, but strike at length.

The tourney is allowd but one career,
Of the tough ash, with the sharp-grinded spear;
But knights unhors'd may rise from off the plain,
And fight on foot, their honour to regain;
Nor, if at mischief taken, on the ground
Be slain, but pris'ners to the pillar bound,
At either barrier plac'd; nor (captives made)
Be freed, or arm’d anew the fight invade.
The chief of either side, bereft of life,
Or yielded to his foe, concludes the strife.
Thus dooms the lord : now valiant knights, and young
Fight each his fill, with swords and maces long.

The herald ends : the vaulted firmament
With loud acclaims and vast applause is rent:
- Heaven guard a prince so gracious and so good,
So just, and yet so provident of blood !!
This was the general cry. The trumpets sound;
And warlike symphony is heard around.
The marching troops through Athens take their way,
The great earl-marshal orders their array.
The fair, from high, the passing pomp behold;
A rain of flow'rs is from the windows roll’d.
The casements are with golden tissue spread,
And horses' hoofs, for earth, on silken tap’stry tread;
The king goes midmost, and the rivals ride
In equal rank, and close his either side.
Next after these, there rode the royal wife,
With Emily, the cause and the reward of strife.
The following cavalcade, by three and three,
Proceed by titles marshald in degree.
Thus through the southern gate they take their way,
And at the list arriy'd ere prime of day.
There, parting from the king, the chiefs divide,
And, wheeling East and West, before their many ride.
Th’ Athenian monarch mounts his throne on high,
And, after him, the queen, and Emily:
Next these, the kindred of the crown are grac'd
With nearer seats, and lords by ladies placd.

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