CHAPTER II. THE SABBATH.- -[WILLIS.] It was a pleasant morning, in the time When the leaves fall—and the bright sun shone out So quietly and calmly fell his light Upon a world at rest. There was no leaf In motion, and the loud winds slept, and all By the harsh voice of man; and distant sound, And then broke in the Sabbath chime of bells- And the fair maid and the bright haired young man; 20 And the child of curling locks, just taught to close The lash of its blue eye the while;2- all knelt THE TABLES TURNED.-[WORDSWORTH.] Up! up! my Friend, and clear your looks; 25 1 Rule XXI., Rem. 14. 2 Rules X and XXI., Rem. 8. The sun above the mountain's head, A freshening lustre mellow Through all the long green fields has spread, Books! 'tis a dull and endless strife: And hark! how blithe the Throstle sings! He, too, is no mean preacher: Come forth into the light of things, Let nature be your teacher. 10 Sweet is the love which Nature brings; Our meddling intellect Mis-shapes the beauteous forms of things:` -We murder to dissect. Enough of Science and of Art; Close up these barren leaves; Come forth, and bring with you a heart That watches and receives. 1 Rule XIII. 20 25 THE WOUNDED HUSSAR.—[CAMPBELL.] Alone to the banks of the dark-rolling Danube, my lover? "What voice did I hear? 'twas my Henry that sigh'd!" 5 From his bosom that heav'd, the last torrent was streaming, 10 14 How smit was poor Adelaide's heart at the sight! How bitter she wept o'er the victim of war! "Hast thou come, my fond Love, this last sorrowful night, To cheer the lone heart of your wounded Hussar?” "Thou shalt live," she replied, "Heaven's mercy relieving Each anguishing wound, shall forbid me to mourn." "Ah, no!1 the last pang of my bosom is heaving! No light of the morn shall to Henry return! "Thou charmer of life, ever tender and true! Ye babes of my love, that await me afar!" 20 His faltering tongue scarce could murmur adieu, SOLITUDE.—[H. K. WHITE.] It is not that my lot is low, 25 1 Rule XXI., Rem. 13. 2 Rule I. It is not grief that bids me moan, In woods and glens I love to roam, Yet when the silent evening sighs My spirit takes another tone, 5 SURRENDER OF GRENADA.-[IRVING.] 1. The sun had scarcely begun to shed his beams upon the summits of the snowy mountains which rise above Grenada, when the Christian camp was in motion. 2. A detachment of horse and foot led by distinguished cavaliers, and accompanied by Hernando de Talavera, bishop of Avila, proceeded to take possession of the Alhambra and the towers. 3. It had been stipulated in the capitulation, that the detachment sent for the purpose should not enter by the streets of the city. A road had, therefore, been opened outside of the walls, leading by the Puerta de los Molinos (or the Gate of the Mills) to the summit of the Hill of Martyrs, and across the hill to the postern-gate of the Alhambra. 4. When the detachment arrived at the summit of the hill, the Moorish king came forth from the gate, attended by a handful of cavaliers, leaving his vizier to deliver up the place. 5. "Go, senior," said he, to the commander of the detachment; "go and take possession of those fortresses which Allah has bestowed upon your powerful lord, in punishment of the sins of the Moors!" 6. He said no more, but passed mournfully on, along by the same road by which the Spanish cavaliers had come, descending to the vega, to meet the catholic sovereigns. 7. The troops entered the Alhambra, the gates of which were wide open, and all its splendid courts and halls silent and deserted. In the meantime the christian court and army poured out of the city of Santa Fe, and advanced across the vega. 8. The king and queen, with the prince and princesses, and the dignitaries and ladies of the court, took the lead; accompanied by the different orders of monks and friars, and surrounded by the royal guards, splendidly arrayed. 9. The procession moved slowly forward, and paused at the village of Armilla, at the distance of half a league from the city. |