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stood, with all his forces ; and the Grand Master, per- | next attacked; but here also the Turks were met by ceiving the design by the Turkish movements, took those destructive hoops of fire which caused more care to send full supplies to the garrison. Amongst dread in their ranks than all the other efforts of the other things thus received, were a number of hoops Christians. Wherever they fell confusion followed ; covered with tow, and imbued with every sort of in-, and at the end of a tremendous fight of nine hours, flammable matter. For the two days preceding the the Moslems were obliged to sound a retreat. assault, the cannon of the Turkish fleet and camp “ A change of operations now took place ; means kept up an incessant fire upon the place, which left were used to cut off the communication with the not a vestige of the fortifications above the surface of town; and after holding out some time longer, the the rock. On the third morning the Turks rushed fort of St. Elmo was taken, the last knight of its noble over the fosée which they had nearly filled, and at the garrison dying in the breach. The whole force of the given signal mounted to storm. The walls of the Turks was thenceforth turned towards the city; and a place were gone, but a living wall of veteran soldiers slow but certain progress was made, notwithstanding presented itself, each knight being supported by three all the efforts of the Grand Master and his devoted inferior men. With dauntless valour the Turks companions. In vain he wrote to the Viceroy of threw themselves upon the pikes that opposed them; Sicily: no succour arrived for many days. The town and after the lances had been shivered and the was almost reduced to extremity. The bastion of St. swords broken, they were seen struggling with their Catherine was scaled, and remained some time in the adversaries, and striving to end the contest with the hands of the infidels, who would have maintained it dagger. A terrible fire of musketry and artillery longer, had not La Valette himself rushed to the spot ; was kept up: and the Christians, on their part, hurled and after receiving a severe wound, succeeded in disdown upon the swarms of Turks that rushed in un- lodging the assailants. ceasing multitudes from below, the flaming hoops “ A small succour came at length under the comwhich sometimes linking two or three of the enemy mand of Don Juan de Cardonna; but this was overtogether, set fire to the light and floating dresses of balanced by the junction of the Viceroy of Algiers the east, and enveloped many in a horrible death. with the attaeking force. The bulwark of all ChrisStill, however, the Turks rushed on, thousands after tendom was being swept away, while Christian kings thousands, and still the gallant little band of Chris stood looking on, and once more saw the knights of tians repelled all their efforts, and maintained pos St. John falling man by man before the infidels, withsession of the height..

out stretching forth a hand to save them. “ From the walls of the town, and from the castle 1 “ A large army had, in the mean while, been assemof St. Angelo, the dreadful struggle for St. Elmo was bled in Sicily, under the pretence of assisting Malta : clearly beheld; and the Christian people and the and at last the soldiers clamoured so loudly to be led knights, watching the wavering current of the fight, to the glorious service for which they had been enfelt perhaps more painfully all the anxious horror of rolled, that the vacillating Viceroy, after innumerable the scene, than those whose whole thoughts and delays, was forced to yield to their wishes, and set sail feelings were occupied in the actual combat. La for the scene of conflict. The island was reached in Valette himself stood on the walls of St. Angelo, not safety, the troops disembarked; and, though the spending his time in useless anticipations, but scanning Turks still possessed the advantage of numbers, a eagerly every motion of the enemy, and turning the panic seized them, and they fled. Joy and triumph artillery of the fortress in that direction where it succeeded to danger and dread, and the name of La might prove of the most immediate benefit. At length Valette and his companions remains embalmed amongst he beheld a body of Turks scaling a rampart, from | the remains of the noble and great." which the attention of the besieged had been called by

James's HISTORY OF CHIVALRY. a furious attack on the other side. Their ladders were placed, and still the defenders of St. Elmo did not pereeive them—they began their ascent, but at.

THE COMBAT. that moment the Grand Master opened a murderous “It was with mingled and inexpressible feelings that fire upon them from the citadel, and swept them | Edmund found himself, as an enemy, in the presence from the post they had gained. The cavalier was of the luathed, but terrific Dane. He looked on his

fierce countenance, and measured with his eye the gi- his foe, roaring aloud, and raining down to the right gantic limbs of the unmoving chief, whose heavy mace and to the left his hideous blows, he seemed resolved resting on the ground, but firmly grasped in his ner- to annihilate the man who singly, had hitherto so foiled vous right hand, seemed reposing only that it might him. Nothing but the utmost presence of mind strike the surer and deadlier blow. Edmund felt no and quickness of eye and foot, could have preserved fear; yet such was the agitation of his feelings, that the Saxon against so tremendous a weapon, wielded by his limbs were seen to tremble, and his face to wax such an arm. It was impossible for him, in the brief pale; and all who beheld expected that he would even | interval betwixt the blows of his fell adversary, to atthen abandon his mad project, or too surely become tempt without imminent peril, any assault in return. an almost instantaneous victim. But his voice was Leaping now backward,—to this side now,—and now loud and firm as he now proceeded to summon the to that,—he evaded though in momentarily peril of a Northman to submit. .

fatal end, the blows against which no shield, and no “« Monster!' he cried, by whose crimes this land | armour could have defended him. But he saw the red has been for years polluted, once more are you offered stream flowing down on either side of the Dane, and the life which you so ill deserve. Throw down your expected with every passing instant, that his strength arms, and submit yourself vanquished—then may you would fail him. No sign of this however appeared, still breathe on through a few years of infamy ;-refuse though the breath of the gigantic foe became thick and this mercy and your doom is at hand.'

frequent; and the impatient and fiery youth could with “ While he spoke this, Edmund fixed his eye upon difficulty restrain himself, to a merely defensive contest that of Hubbo, cautious to read every indication of so long protracted. Already had he trodden with hostile intent; and became almost instantly assured backward step, thrice round the ring of silent spectathat such was forming in the breast of his treacherous tors, and still the frenzied Northman, with strength enemy.

unabated, was following. During all this time, the “ Saxon cur!' cried the Dane, foaming with rage, Saxon bad not once ventured to attempt a blow upon 'to such a demand Hubbo has but one reply: take it him, since the mere instant of delay necessary, might thus!'

have exposed him to the sway of that ponderous club, “ Lifting his mace, as he pronounced the last word, which would have needed no second stroke. At length he sprang forward, and discharging a whirlwind stroke, however, he darted forward at the instant that the which had his antagonist been less on his guard, might mace had passed him, lightly touching upon his breastat once have terminated the combat: but Edmund plate—and struck with collected force at the uplifted leaped to the left from the thundering weapon, and right arm of the Dane. The sword missed its mark, passing behind with the speed of thought, let fall upon but lighted upon the thick handle of the mace, and the undefended right side of the Dane, a stroke so shore it in two, close to the gripe. Down dropped tremendous that the corslet gaped, and the blood rushed with a dead weight the now harmless weapon; and the forth in a thick stream. A loud shout hailed the silence of the field changed to a thunder-burst of apblow, but Edmund was not thrown off his guard by un. plause. But the sword of Hubbo was instantly forth, timely exultation. A hideous stroke, as Hubbo threw and his savage roar resounded above the tumult. Yet round the whole weight of his body, instantly replied, not so quick was his motion, but that Edmund, ere and with such quickness, that the youth could not the blade of his adversary was drawn, had discharged wholly avoid it. The mace struck upon the central a second stroke, which alighting upon his breast-plate point of the buckler with a violence that drove it from close below the neck, burst through the iron cavity the grasp of the bearer, and sent it with a loud clang and inflicted another, and a wider, though slighter to the earth, almost at the feet of the spectators. The wound. But the Saxon was without his buckler, while arm of Edmund was benumbed ; and dropped strength that of the Northman was on his arm, and the contest less: but the returning blow was given almost before appeared still likely to be unfavourable to him. Far the shield had reached the ground. Lighting on the superior skill in the use of his weapon,-equal strength left shoulder of the Northman, the keen steel again bit and greater agility, were however, more than a counthrough the armour,—again the red stream gushed terbalance for this deficiency. He was also unhurt, forth,—and again the shout of the Saxons arose. The save from the benumbing blow upon the shield, the fury of Hubbo now became madness; pressing upon effects of which were rapidly diminishing, and was

comparatively fresh and unfatigued, while his anta-1 “ He was then silent-closed his eyes, and lay withgonist, wearied by the unceasing motion of his heavy out motion, sare of his huge chest, which rose and fell club, and now somewhat exhausted by loss of blood, like a smith's bellows to his deep and frequent breathstood with wild eye and heaving chest, like a wild | ings. Edmund looked upon him for a time in silence. beast pursued almost to the extremity. His quick and The light of the moon, the light fare of the watch heavy blows attested, nevertheless, the vigour of his gi fires, and of a hundred torches which, from the beginning gantic arm; and all the address of his foe was necessary of the combat, had blazed round the ring, shewed to parry the strokes which unfailingly answered his own | distinctly his horrid countenance, on which approachloud thunderings, upon the clanging and almost impe- ing death seemed as yet to have made slight alteration. netrable shield. Yet well did the sword of Amleth do “' And hast thou then no crimes for which to implore its work, and the buckler that had never till then giveu forgiveness ?' said Edmund at length: ‘have not the way, was twice riven by the griding edge. Edmund now strengthless old man, and the innocent child, and the began to press forward, and his huge foe, step by step, helpless woman, and the meek servant of God, fallen to give back, but this lasted not long: recovering before thy ruthless arm?-Have not the virgin and the breath, the Dane again bore onward ; and planting at chaste matron held up the imploring hand to thee in length upon the crest of his enemy a blow that drove vain ?--Have not the aged, and the young, groaned him on one knee to the earth and for the moment stu- | under thy tortures, that thou mightest force from pified his senses. The exulting Northman repeated them the treasure which they knew not of ?-Have not the stroke, and thought his victory sure: but Edmund thy tires cousumed the church, and the monastery, turned aside the descending blade ; and rising, let fall and the dwellings of the rich and of the poor?— Have upon the arm of Hubbo, a blow that made the weapon not thy ruffians driven back the shrieking victims to drop from his grasp. Had not the sword fallen flat, perish amid the flames?—Hath not thy sword hewn the arm might have been severed from the shoulder: down at the altar, and upon the tomb, the tender child or, had Hubbo stooped to pick up the weapon, a se- and the grey headed monk ?-and are these deeds not cond blow might have sent him down never again to | to be repented of-and dost thou hope that a life of rise: but the numbness passed instantly from his hand, blackest guilt, can be rewarded by eternal bliss in the and flinging aside his shield, he rushed in for a close | hall of thy false God?' grapple with his now better provided enemy. Clasp I “ He spake this slowly, and sternly, and with a long ing him round the waist, he strove to hurl the Saxon | interval after every question, that the Northman might to the ground, that he might afterwards dispatch him have time to reflect: but Hubbo still remained silent, with the dagger: but here the Northman found him and without change, save that his breath became graself overmatched, and after a short struggle, was dually more slow and calm. Rememberest thou not hurled backward to the ground with a elang, that was wretch that thou art!' he at length resumed, ' when distinctly heard by the farthest spectator-both fell; thy sword cut down at the altar, aud while the blessed but the Northman was undermost, and lay without cross was in his hand, the pale grey headed prior of motion, and for a few moments, without breath. | Croyland! Hast thou forgotten how the old and infirm Edmund startedup from him, and caught the sword, brethren, and the shrieking children, fell before thee which at the commencement of the struggle he had let there? Canst thou not even now hear the groans and fall. Tremendous peals of applause bespoke the joy the wailings of them whom thy inhuman cruelty put to of the Saxons, and a hundred voices called out to him the keen torture? Fiend, that thou art! bethink thee to dispatch the Dane before he could rise: but Ed- of these things, and pray that thy own torments may mund planted his left foot upon the breast of Hubbo; not be everlasting.' and pointing the sword at his throat, bade him call “ Again he paused; but the Dane made no reply. upon God for pardon before his soul was sent to its 1 “ Little didst thou think, proud man! that among final account. Hubbo still lay for a time without stir the children of that devoted abbey, stood one destined ring or speaking ; then at length in a low and faint tone to be thy punisher. Yes, imperious and invincible prince, scarcely unclosing his eyes, said — Use thy advantage the boy whom Sidroc preserved from thy fury, now Saxon: I have nothing to pray for. I die in battle, stands with his foot upon thy breast, and with the the last warrior upon a bloody field, and the hall of sword of vengeance in his hand.' Valhalla is open to receive me. Bury thy sword in me | “The eyes of Hubbo at these words, opened for a motherefore, and let me begone.'

ment, and shot a glance like fire upon the Saxon; then again half closed, as if they felt the stealing hand of | him, among others, act harlequin. He appeared very death. With a low faint voice, he at length began to much entertained. Munden got up a sham quarrel, speak.

and very hard words, and something beyond words, “« My crimes stand up before me now—I feel, I feel flew about. Cooke was still unmoved-he seemed to that I have indeed deserved punishment: and from thy wait upon Kemble ; and to say, like Macduff, when hand comes it most justly, and most welcome. But he long’d for the combat-but with the tyrant onlydost thou Saxon, indeed believe that prayer to thy God

; " • Either thee, Macbeth, might save me now in this last moment?'

Or else my sword, with an unbatter'd edge “ The merey of God is infinite,' returned Edmund; }

I sheathe again undeeded.' ' but he alone can judge with what measure to visit thy guilt. Bow thy soul into the dust; and put up thy

" Whether Kemble had kept a guard upon himself

expressly, I can only conjecture; but they agreed prayers to him—so may this infliction be softened unto

like brothers. It was · Mr. Kemble,' and 'my thee. Few, very few are thy moments; lose not one, lest thou with that lose eternity.'

dear George,' and one nosegay seemed to perfume “I feel cold death at my heart;' said the Dane with

them both. There is a time when men, who are

modest in general, become the heroes of their own a feeble voice; “raise me upon my knees; and let me

tale, and this at length happened to King Johnpray unto the Christian's God, even as they pray unto him.

• for wine,' says Johnson, “ exerts its natural power “ As he said this he attempted to rise, but instantly

upon kings.' He told the story of his progress as an fell baek. Edmund laid his sword upon the ground;

actor; and, among other accompaniments, mentioned

the little aid that he had derived from the newsand placing his hand under the shoulders of the Danc, lifted him till he had gained his knees. He was still

papers. This seemed to startle the company, who

had not quite forgotten the even fulsome jargon in his supporting him in that position, when Hubbo started up,—drew his dagger,—and with a shout of devilish

praise, by which, more than one critic has preserved

the peace of the profession. Cooke's eye quickened, exultation rushed upon the youth. With the speed of thought Edmund caught up his sword: and, in the

but he did not speak. At length, something like diffrenzy of rage, let fall upon the impious hypocrite a blow

ference of opinion was manifested as to the fact, and so tremendous and well aimed, that the severed head

a few stubborn particulars were gone into, which it dropped upon the ground, while the dagger yet lingered

seemed difficult to contravert. A very slight pause in the uplifted hand. The huge trunk stood yet an in

intervened; when Cooke, summoning up a look of the stant—then sunk in a heap.

most sarcastic bitterness, fixed his eyes upon Kem“ There had been a grave like stillness amid the

ble, and pronouneed aloud the following lines from throng of Saxons; but now they sent up continued

the great painter of men; peals of joy, and with one impulse rushed forward.”

“« 0, 'tis a common proof,
The Sea KINGS.

That lowliness is young Ambition's ladder,
Whereto the climber upward turns his face ;
But when he once attains the topmost round,

He then unto the ladder turns his back,
COOKE AND JOHN KEMBLE.

Looks on the clouds, scorning the base degrees “ He (Kemble) gave a dinner, I remember, in

By which he did ascend.' Great Russell-street. Cooke came in good time, well dressed, and in the library we chatted very agree

“Such a quotation operated like an extinguisher upon ably till dinner was served-he appeared to me to

poor human vanity, and the subject was dropped.”

Boader's Life of Mrs. Jordan. have read with care, and to speak with the politeness of a gentleman. When we were seated at table, he had a chair opposite to mine ; and I was attentive to

LEGENDARY FRAGMENTS. him, with the expectation that the moderation he

BY MISS E. LANDON. shewed, would pass away with the hours, and that, as we warmed with wine, I should see something of the

" And meet we thus again?" he said;

“ And meet we thus again? character which the world attributed to him. We

And why should meeting be for those had some mimiery that evening, and the mime made

Who only meet in vain?

14

THE MAGAZINE OF THE BEAU MONDE ;

The weariness of future hours,

The sorrow for the past,
Desire of change, craving for joys,

Cling to us to the last.
I turn me to my days of youth,

My last thoughts fain would be of purer feelings, better hopes

I dare not say of thee. That beautiful, that blessed time,

'Mid all that has been mine; I never knew such happiness,

Nor such a love as thine."

Call others round your dying bed,

The loved of many years ! The eyes whose smiles were all your own,

Those are the eyes for tears. You thought not of me in the hall,

When gayer knights were nigh;
You thought not of me when the stars

Wrote memory on the sky.
My heart has been with other thoughts,

Of council and of fight;
I 've bought forgetfulness with blood

Of one so false, so light.
It is a dream of shame and scorn,

That of your broken vow;
'Tis with the vain frail hopes of youth,

Why speak you of it now?"
He nerved him with remember'd wrongs,

He grasp'd his heavy brand ;
She raised her sweet eyes to his face,

She raised her dying hand:
She strove to speak on her faint lip

The accents died unheard:
Ah! nothing could his heart have moved

Like that unspoken word.
A sadness stole upon his brow,

A softness to his eyes ;
His heart was harden'd against smiles,

It could not be to sighs.
It was not years that wrought the change-

In life she yet was young;
Her locks of youth, her golden hair,

In wild profusion hung.
But youth's sweet lights had left her eye,

For from within they shine,
And pale her face, as those are carved

Around some sacred shrine;-
On funeral marble carved, and worn

With sorrow, sin, and shame;
Placed there in sign of penitence-

And her face was the same.

Her pale lips closed, inaudible

The faint low accents came; Yet the knight held his breath to hear

Her last word was his name. He flung him by the pallet's side,

He raised her fainting head; Her fair hair fell around his arm,

He gazed upon the dead.

'T is an old church, the Gothic aisles

See but the evening sun;
All light, except a fading light,

Would seem too glad a one.
For the dark pines close o'er the roof

Which sanctifies the dead,
And on the dim and sculptured walls

Only their names are read;
And in the midst a marble form

Is laid, as if to rest;
And meekly are the graceful arms

Folded upon the breast.
An old monk tells her history,

And ends as I do now,
“ Oh, never yet could happiness

Dwell with a broken vow!”—The KeepSAKE.

“ 'T is written deep within-the vow

We pledged in other years, And all that vanity effaced

Has long been fresh with tears. The red torch held by yonder monk,

He holds to see me die;
'T will sink before the morning, sure,

And even so shall I.
And yet a voice is in my ear,

A hope is in my heart;
And I must have them both from thee

Before I can depart.
Alas! for festivals that leave

But lassitude behind;
For feelings deaden'd, gifts misused,

A worn and vacant mind,
That dreads its own thoughts, yet pursues

The vanities of yore;
Seeks pleasure's shade, though pleasure's self

Has long since been no more.

THE ORPHAN BOY OF PONTNEATHVAUGHN, Short and simple are the annals of the poor. When grief and death assail the great, a thousand eyes weep for them, and to their triumphs a thousand voices are ready to cry “ Hail ?" Fame waves a sunbright banner before their closing eyes ; and thus canopied, death is divested of half its terrors. Hearts beat thickly and fastly in sympathy for all sorrow, save the misery of the poor. Hunger, and those diseases that arise from poverty, are vulgar sufferings ; and the lowly tale which has now found a historian may fail to excite a single throb of pity in the tenderest bosom.

In the village of Pontneathvaughn, in Glamorganshire, lived, some few years since, a young farmer named Edward Morgan. Rich, gay, and handsome ; gifted with the ready smile and quick reply, he wore, with a careless air, the triumphs he obtained in all athletic exercises. These qualities would alone have

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