He I regret. She will not weep for He paused, trembled, his The Briton perceiving his error, answered him with brevity and composure: he related to him the circumstances of his captivity, and in confirmation appealed to the testimony of his father. The Indian was satisfied. He embraced them. They return ed by morning to the village. Ononthio received them with decent gladness, and the day was crowned with rejoicing. (Concluded) SELECTED For the Lady's Miscellany. THE COMBAT OF [From the Romance of Amadis of Amadis, after he had left Urganda, rode on through the forest till he was benighted. After soine time he saw a light above the trees, and rode towards it, thinking to find a lodging. He came at length to a goodly fortress,wherein were the lights that he had seen which were from the window of a tower, and he heard the voices of men and women singing and making mirth. He called at the gate, but they heard him not at, last those in the tower saw him through the battlements, and a knight asked who was there. 4 A strange knight.' 'So it seems,' quoth he, you must be a strange knight to go about in the dark; I believe it is for fear lest you should be obliged to do battle with us by daylight; and now you can meet none but the devils.' Amadis answerered, if you were good for any thing, you would know that many are benighted who cannot help it.' 'Begone,' quoth the knight, you shall not enter here.' 'As God shall help me,' said Amadis, I think thou hast no man of valour in thy company.Tell me thy name before we part.' That shall I do, on condition that whensoever we meet thou wilt fight me.' To that Amadis, who was in wrath, readily assented. 'Know then that my name is Dardan; and badly as thou wilt fare this night, thou wilt fare much worse the day that I shall meet thee.' 'Come out,' quoth Amadis and let them light us by those torches, to do battle. "What? said Dardan, 'arm myself at this hour to fight with thee! I'll fall the knight who should put on his spurs and harness for such an enemy' and with that he went in. Amadis proceeded through the forest, seeking some bush under which he might shelter himself. Presently he heard voices, and proceeding faster, he came up to two damsels on their palfreys, attended by a squire. They saluted courteously, and Amadis recounted his adventure. 'Know you the knight's name?" said they. 'He told me it was Dardan.' 'True! he is called Dardan the proud; the haughtiest knight in this country. But, sir, seeing that you are unprovided of lodging, will you abide this night in our tents, which are pitched near at hand?' He, glad of their courtesy, rode with them; and having there a lighted, he unarmed: and when the damsels saw how fair he was, they delighted. to see him: so they supped cheerfully together, and a tent was spread for him wherein he should sleep. Meantime they asked him whither he was bound. 'To the court of king Lisuarte." 'And we are going there also, to see what will happen to a lady, one of the best and noblest in the land; all that she hath in the world is put upon the issue of a combat, which is to be performed within ten days before king Lisuarte but we know not who will appear to defend her; for he, against whom her champion must fight, is the best knight in Great Britain, that very Dardan the proud whom you so lately left.' 'And on what cause,' said Amadis, ariseth the combat?' 'This Dardan loveth the daughter of a knight, who, at his second nuptials married the lady I speak || rode along with sundry discours of. Now hath this lady conceived such hatred against her stepmother, that she hath vowed never to love Dardan unless he bring her to king Lisuarte's court, and af firm that all her stepmother's goods appertain to her, and maintain it by battle against whomsoever dare gainsay: and the dame, who was not well advised, said she would produce a champion, and this she did for her manifest right, thinking that one would be found to combat for her: but Dardan is so good a knight in arms, that be it for right or wrong, all fear him.' These tidings rejoiced Amadis, for the knight was against all pride; and now might he indulge his own anger in a just cause and that in the presence of Oriana. 'I pray you, sir,' said one of the damsels, for courtesy acquaint us with your sudden musing.' 'Willingly, if you will promise me,fas loyal damsels, not to reveal it. I mean,' quoth he, 'to combat for the lady.' ings; and among other talk, they asked the knight, since God had placed them in company, that he would tell them his name; the which he did, but charged them to let none know it. So they proceeded thro unfrequented ways, lodging in their tents, and regaling on the food they took with them. At length they saw two knights under a tree, armed and on horseback, who, seeing them, placed themselves in the way, the one saying to his companion, which of these damsels will you have?' Gentle sir, that though proceeds from a high resolved mind : God grant it a good issue! gave they each to other the good So night, and went to rest. The one knight met him bravely, and broke his lance; but Amadis gave him such an attaint that he lay with his heels upwards. The second came on, and pierced through his arms, and slightly wounded Amadis. He on his part failed with his lance; but shields and horses met, and Amadis seized him, and plucked him from the saddle, and dashed him down and then rode on with the damse s. In the morning the damsels intreated that he would not leave them, seeing they were bound tọ one place, and that in the forest kept men of ill behaviour; They When at length they came near Windsor. Amadis said friends, i would remain in secret here ti such time as the knight come to the combat; and, when the hour is, let your 'squire bring me hither tidings thereof." Sir, quoth the damsel, if it please you, we will remain with you.' So they pitched their tents apart from the road, by the river side, Meanwhile Amadis went upon a little eminence to look at the town and the e he sat under a tree, and looked to wards the towers and the high walls, and he said in his heart, ah, God! the flower of the world is there! and thou city containest now the lady that hath no peer for goodness and beauty and who is more loved than all others that are loved, and that would I prove upon the best kni ht in the world. And in these thous the 'cars trickled down his checks and he sat heedless of every thing about him. But Gaudalin, who saw a troop of knights and ladies coming up, called to him, and asked him if he did not see that company. He neither heard nor an swered. with that Gandalig took him by the arm. So help me, heaven, sir, you afflict yourself more than need is! Take courage, as you do in other things." Ah, Gandafin ! quoth he, you had better counsel me to die, than to endure this hopeless sorrow! morning from my eyelids, hoids its place at the midnight hour." 'And, is love,' said I, the canker worm that has preyed on thy beauty!--Des that torturing passion make thee shed the ceaseless tear ! Love 'No,' replied Lucilla gave me all its choicest blessings. During five years, I risted in them; and this world was a heaven to me. William it is true is no more: but he died in the field of hono-he is recorded with those heroes who fought and fell for their country. I bathed his wounds his last words blessed me -and his expiring sigh was breathed forth in my bosom. I wept the briny tears of honest sorrow— but I had my consolation-my William loved none but me: and he still lived in the blessed image which he left me of himself.. 'It was my duty-and soon became my sole delight-to point out to the darling boy, the path in which his sire had trodden, and to instil into his expanding mind. an emulation of parental virtue. His young breast felt the glowing flame: and he was wont to weep when I had him to the grave which glory had dug for his father. 'But he, too, is taken from me- shall daily visit, ull weary nature' conduct me to my husband and my child." EDWIN'S URN.--A FRAGMENT. 'Solitude! thou hast lost thy power of charming,' said the. weeping Emma, as she was bedewing Edwin's ùrn with the tears of love. 'No more with pleasure, do I sit on the foot of yon oak, and listen to the sweet no es of the feath wont when ered choir, as I was Edwin lived. Alas my Edwin, wil you no more lead me to the shady. bower and tune your pipe to Emma's praise! Peace ye birds!-Edwin no more echoes you meilifluous tones in mild symphonic soners. D: oop, hang your heads, ye flowers of the field: No more wil y be plucked by Edwins hand to grace his Emmas nai:. Signs soft as the gentle zephyis, stole from the fair moutner's heart.. Why bursts the intrusive sig? Why fats the univa ing tea!: Will those reca my Edwin from the tomb? Aa? no, Would to heaven--she paused-Yes i must be--I'ne heaving bosom pan s filled with peace. Edwin shan I for ease the streaming eye is leave thee! it is only foxmo neat then shall we meet and part no more.' |