JAN. 1831. And little reck'd he of defeat Then proudly sought his knightly stand, The mortal strife for love and fame- They start at the sound of the trumpet's blast- Each flew from his post like a sudden flash, It would seem that no force those brave knights could foil, Are seen in sorrow bending o'er The form that ne'er shall cheer thein more. Oh! who could think that lordly form So soon would feast the cold earth worm! But yesterday, and triumph shone Upon his manly brow Now hope-nay life itself is gone- But lo! in a distant castle-hall Beams forth in smiles right happily! D THE MINSTREL. A TALE. BY E. N. S. Ir was a fine autumnal evening, or rather night, (for the sun had long gone down,) in the year 1193, when two pilgrims stopped at the door of a little cottage on the bank of an inconsiderable river in the Austrian dominions. They listened intently; all was silent; but a light that shone through the half-closed easement of the cottage, showed that its inhabitants had not yet retired to rest; they therefore ventured to tap gently on the door with the end of their staves, and immediately they heard voices within rising as if in debate, and the door was presently partially unclosed by an Austrian soldier, who sternly demanded their business. The elder pilgrim shrunk silently back, pulling his broad hat over his brows, and muffling his face in his ample cloak, while his companion, advancing, replied, that they were weary pilgrims, who had travelled since daybreak, and entreated the hospitable shelter of their roof for the night. Before the soldier could answer this request, which, from his surly looks, he seemed inclined to do in the negative, a young maiden, who had been peeping at the travellers over his shoulder, turned round and exclaimed to those within, "They are holy pilgrims, mother;" and added, entreatingly, dear father, you will admit them? they are weary and wayworn." "When was my door closed against the needy or distressed?" was the instant reply. "Let the holy fathers enter, they will bring a blessing beneath the roof that shelters them." The soldier turned away, and the maiden, holding the door wide open, bowed her head reverently, as the pilgrims crossed the humble threshold. They entered, and found themselves in a small low room, and amidst the family group that tenanted it. A cheerful wood fire blazed on the hearth, on either side of which were seated a venerable old man and woman, who rose respectfully to reIceive their guests. The Austrian soldier aforesaid was seated at a table, plentifully supplied with humble though hearty fare, and there too the pilgrims, having laid aside hat and staff, were quickly established, and being supplied with clean cups and platters by the ready-banded Adelheide, they did ample justice to the hospitality of their hosts. While thus employed the appearance of the holy brethren attracted the curiosity and interest of their entertainers. The elder pilgrim seemed in the full vigour of manhood, of tall and commanding stature, and with limbs that, for strength and proportion, might have well served a sculptor as the model for a Hercules; his countenance, though not regularly handsome, had, in common with his whole person and manner, an air of nobleness and majesty, which it received from a high and well-formed forehead, and a deep blue eye, of peculiar brilliancy. His companion appeared some years younger, was of shorter and slighter figure; neither his person or countenance was in any way remarkable; the latter might almost have been deemed plain, but for an eye that imparted its own light, and every varying expression, to the whole countenance, and a voice whose low, soft, musical tones, irresistibly captivated not only the ear but the heart of the listener. At length the hunger of all being appeased, they drew their seats round the cheerful fire, and, after a short silence, old Stephanoff, addressing the elder pilgrim, inquired, “You are from the Holy Land, father?" The party addressed assented with a nod, and his young companion hastened to speak for him. "This holy pilgrim, my companion, father," said he, "is English born; he does not speak German, and understands it but imperfectly, so you will excuse my acting as spokesman and interpreter for him." The elder confirmed the assertion of his friend by leaning back in his chair, and laying his head on the arm thrown listlessly over the back of it, as if alike weary, and indifferent to what was passing around him; while the old man, addressing himself to his youthful guest, continued, "And what news bring you from thence? what tidings of the heroic King Richard of England? all Christendom has rung with his mighty deeds." "It is reported that he has concluded a truce with the Sultan Saladin," replied the young pilgrim, "and is returned to England." "Ho! ho!" exclaimed the soldier, sneeringly, "so the valiant lion has turned tail to the Turkish cymitar, has he?" "Ha! Schelm, say'st thou !" fiercely exclaimed the elder pilgrim, starting from his recumbent position, clenching his fist, and bending full on the speaker eyes at all times keenly luminous, but now flashing with the insufferable light lent them by rage and indignation. For a moment the scornful look of the Austrian sunk beneath that withering glance, but his countenance resumed its usual low satirical expression, and the pilgrim, with a gesture of repressed irritation, sunk again into his previous recumbent posture. The soldier continued, in the same sneering tone, "So the holy father is neither so deaf or so dumb, friend, as you would make him out; he can hear and understand, and reply, too, indifferently well, it seems, when he pleases." "He could not but be aware that thou wert speaking disrespectfully of his sovereign," replied the youthful pilgrim, "wherein, rude soldier, thou hadst little reason; for if the royal Richard was forced to cede where he would most willingly have striven, the shame lies not with him, but with those Christian princes who falsely abandoned him; they were sworn to assist to the last-Philip of France, Conrad of Monserrat, and, among others, thy own master, Leopold of Austria; yet even when deserted by them all, singly he maintained a short but glorious struggle with the overwhelming hosts of the desert, and at length wrested from the victorious Saracen terms of truce at once to the honour and the weal of Christendomwhat could he more?" "It may be as thou say'st, friend," returned the soldier, coolly-" it may be as thou say'st; and yet, methinks, I have my reasons for doubting the return of King Richard to England," and, as he spoke, his eye wandered alternately from the half-concealed features of the now apparently sleeping pilgrim, to the gigantic iron handle of a sword, which, unobserved by its owner, obtruded itself through an opening in his dress. "And may I ask thee, soldier," said the younger pilgrim, pretending not to see the bent of his looks whom he addressed, "what reason thou canst have for doubting King Richard's return ?” The soldier had risen, and did not hear, or at least did not reply to this question, but making some observation on the lateness of the hour, hastily took leave, giving Adelheide, at parting, a salute on the cheek, which was very ill received; and having fetched his horse from an adjoining shed, was soon heard galloping furiously past the window, till the noise of his horse's hoofs was lost in the distance. The party here broke up for the night; but it was a question with the old couple how they should dispose of their new guests: their little cottage contained but two beds, on one of which their daughter Adelheide slept in a small garret, or rather loft, overhead; the other they themselves occupied in an adjoining room: this they offered willingly to give up to the strangers, but they would not hear of it, and declared, that a little clean straw, or a few fresh rushes, were all they needed, or would accept of at their hands. This arrangement was at length reluctantly agreed to by their hospitable entertainers, and an ample quantity of both having been fetched from the adjoining out-house, was arranged with the greatest possible care in a corner of the room they then occupied; this done, some fresh wood thrown on the fire, and a small iron lamp left burning for their use on the table, their kind hosts withdrew, and left them to seek the repose which they so much needed. When they were alone, the elder pilgrim stood some minutes silent and thoughtful before the hearth, his un conscious looks intently bent upon its glowing embers; at length he spoke, but as if only continuing his thoughts aloud :-"I cannot forget the leer of malignant exultation with which he regarded me, when he thought I observed him not. He must have known my person I know his-I am sure I remember his saturnine visage, and, if I mistake not, in the Austrian bodyguard. He wears their dress, too-it must be so; ha! De Nesle, what think'st thou?" added he, suddenly turning to address his companion, who stood in respectful attendance at a little distance. "I think with your grace," replied the youth, "and heartily hope the recognition may not be mutual, for no good could come of it; but under your favour, my noble master, methinks your grace showed rather more of the lion mood to him than was altogether in keeping with our present cha racter. "Thou hast the right of it, De Nesle," replied the elder, "and I blush to think the sneering knave had power to chafe me as he did; but to hear the names of princes polluted by the lying lips of such a base-born schelm, moved me beyond my patient endurance;" and the irritated pilgrim seemed about to relapse again into the "lion mood," for at the conclusion of this speech he raised his voice to a pitch which made his attendant cast a glance of alarm and caution, towards the thin wooden partition that alone divided them from the bedroom of their hosts; his master understood the warning, and, dropping his voice to a whisper, continued, "I know what thou wouldst say; come, then, no farther parley for to-night, but let's to rest, for with the lark we rise. But first rid me of this good blade, which, though a trusty travel ling companion, would prove, thinks, an inconvenient bedfellow." The youth approached, and assisted to unbuckle, from his master's person, the gigantic sword whose obtruding hilt had, as before related, so strongly attracted the Austrian soldier's attention; in truth, it might be accounted a most portentous weapon for even that warlike age, and could it become visible at the present day, would attract as much curiosity and attention as the blade of the renowned and unfortunate Wallace, now exhibiting at the Tower. It was a two-handed sword, having a long straight blade of the highest polish, and measuring nearly five feet, the handle included, which, as I before said, was of iron, curiously wrought; its scabbard was of the same metal, and the weight of this warlike instrument, proportioned to its size, was such, that it would have been but a cumbersome and useless tool in the hands of any other than its owner. This disposed of, the warlike pilgrim still retained on his person a breastplate of polished steel, carefully concealed beneath the ample folds of his large cloak; and having reverently kissed a small ebony crucifix suspended from his girdle, and muttered a short prayer in Latin, he threw himself on the lowly couch prepared for him, and his attendant, depositing beside his master's his own much less formidable weapon, gladly followed his example, and both were soon sunk in profound slumber. The grey light of dawn was just beginning to struggle feebly through the closed shutters of this humble dor. mitory, the lamp was burnt out, and but a few glowing embers remained on the hearth, when the elder pilgrim was suddenly awakened by a sound from without, which seemed like the approaching tramp of horses: he arose, crept softly to the window, and peeping through the cracks of the shutters, observed a troop of horsemen advancing rapidly in the direction of the cottage; within a few yards of it they stopped, and their leader (in whom the pilgrim instantly recognized their companion of the preceding evening,) advanced alone to the door. "Up, up, De Nesle! we are betrayed!" In an instant the sleeper was at his master's side; they stationed themselves at the window, so that they could hear and see all that passed without, themselves unobserved. They soon became aware that they were not the only ones disturbed by the approach of the horsemen, for they heard the lattice above open, and the voice of Adelheide speaking with the Austrian soldier, who stood just under her window. “Courad!" she exclaimed, in an accent of surprise and alarm. "Good morrow to you, my sweet mistress," was uttered in the hoarse, gruff tones of her admirer. "Holy Virgin! what makes you here so early, Conrad? and with that troop of soldiers, too!" "I have a little business, if it please you, with the holy fathers, your guests; so come down, sweetheart, and undo the door for me, for I must see them presently." "That may hardly be," replied the maiden, "for there is no one up yet in the house;" and then hastily added, "except the holy pilgrims; they left us scarce an hour since, and took their way up the hill; if you have business with them, as you say, you may quickly overtake them, mounted as you are, and they on foot." Come, come, my pretty maiden, that will barely serve your turn; but if it be so, let me in, that I may speak a word with your father about them." "My father is not yet up, and I cannot disturb him so early," persisted the maiden; "if you would see him, come again at some more reasonable hour, it is scarce daybreak yet; and, Conrad, what can these holy pilgrims be to thee?" Those holy pilgrims, as thou call'st them, maiden, are but wolves in sheep's clothing; they are the sworn enemies of my master, the archduke; and again I tell thee, if I be not instantly admitted, I will force the door, and raise such a din about thy father's ears, as should awaken him, though he slept sounder than the Seven Sleepers." "It shall not need," exclaimed the subject of this debate; and, seizing his sword, he threw open the window, and leaped out, followed by his attendant. "Seize him!" shouted the startled Conrad. "Secure him! let him escape on your lives!" not At these orders half a dozen men hastily dismounted, and advanced, sword in hand, to the aid of their leader; while the rest, remaining mounted, wheeled round him in a semicircle, so as effectually to cut off all chance of escape. "Stand off!" exclaimed the pilgrim, in a voice of thunder; and seizing his gigantic sword with both hands, he swung it round his head with as much ease as a boy would wave a green willow wand, while the soldiers involuntarily recoiled from the reach of his arm. "For whom do you take me?" sternly demanded he, addressing their leader. "For an enemy of my master, Leopold, Archduke of Austria," was the reply. "I am no enemy of Austria!" replied the pilgrim; "I am Richard, King of England! and-" Dost think I knew it not last night?" interrupted the Austrian, with a sneer of diabolical malice on his ferocious countenance. "A lion in lambskin, my mates," he continued, turning to the soldiers; "secure him, his golden fleece will be your spoil." The strife could not be long maintained by two men, on foot, and with no other weapons than their swords, against ten times their number, well mounted, and armed in proof. Escape was impossible, resistance hopeless, but they resolved to sell their lives as dearly as possible, and side by side they fought, with the energy of desperation. Again and again the fatal sword of Richard circled round his head, and never did its stroke descend without finding its victim. The soldiers shrunk, in terror and amazement, beyond its reach; and even those who had often seen it in the hands of Cœur de Lion, flaming, like a destructive meteor, in the front of battle, seemed now to think its blade endowed with magic virtues, so successfully did it ward that death from its master which it as effectually bestowed on others. One fatal blow ended at length the deadly struggle. Blondel de Nesle fought long with desperate bravery by his monarch's side; regardless of his own, fearful only for his monarch's safety, many were the blows he gave and parried in |