"I would I could see on the breezes free
My banner once more flung out!

I would that these failing ears might hear
Once more my battle shout!

Oh! place me on Selim's back again,
I would die in my warrior's mail-
The spirit of old will bear me up,
Though the wasted flesh

may fail!

So! I am young! Death to the Moor!
I ride with as free a rein

As when I trampled the Paynim down,
On the bloody fields of Spain!
Advance my banner! my heart leaps high
At the sight of its folds again!

Ho! Charge as ye charged in days of yore,
And God, in his might, for Spain !"

The spear has dropped from his powerless grasp,
He has broken a lance with Death:

He will mount no more for the battle field
At the trumpet's warning breath:
He sleeps with the great of his noble line--
But decay's corrupting touch
Can not dim one word of his epitaph-
"Sans peur et sans reproche !"

LESSON CXLVII.

THE BANNER OF THE CID.

The Cid, whose name is used by the poet to excite the courage of the defenders of Valencia when besieged by the Moors, who had captured the two sons of the Governor, was a Spanish hero whose history is so confounded with romance, that it would be idle to attempt to separate the truth from the fiction. He is said to have died in 1099, at Valencia, which he had captured from the Moors. The great Corneille wrote a tragedy entitled The Cid. The Appeal in the following lesson was written by MRS. HEMANS.

Men of Valencia! in an hour like this,
What do

ye

here? Brave men die now

Girt for the toil, as travellers suddenly
By the dark night o'ertaken on their way!
These days require such death!—It is too much
Of luxury for our wild and angry times,
To fold the mantle round us, and to sink
From life, as flowers that shut up silently,
When the sun's heat doth scorch them!
Hear ye not?-Rise and arm!

E'en now the children of your chief are led
Forth by the Moor to perish !-Shall this be?
Shall the high sound of such a name be hushed,
In the land to which for ages it hath been
A battle-word, as 'twere some passing note
Of shepherd music ?-Must this work be done,
And ye lie pining here, as men in whom

The pulse which God hath made for noble thought
Can so be thrilled no longer? Alas! 'tis even so!
Sickness, and toil, and grief, have breathed upon you.
Your hearts beat faint and low. Are ye so poor
Of soul, my countrymen! that ye can draw

Strength from no deeper source than that which sends
The red blood mantling through the joyous veins,
And gives the fleet step wings? Arouse, arouse thee!
Shake off this doubt, and this despair ;-

Arise and arm! It may not be too late.
Know ye this banner? 'Tis the Cid's. The Cid's!
Who breathes that name but in the exulting tone
Which the heart rings to ?-Why, the very wind,
As it swells out the noble standard's fold,

Hath a triumphant sound!-The Cid's!—it moved
Ever as a sign of victory through the land,
From the free skies ne'er stooping to a foe!

Can ye still pause, my brethren?-Oh! that youth
Through this worn frame were kindling once again!
Ye linger still!-Forsaken!-Who is forsaken?
He that gives the thought a place within his breast!
'Tis not for you.-Nay, then look on me!

Death's touch hath marked me, and I stand among you
As one whose place in the sunshine of your world
Shall soon be left to fill!-But even now,

I have that within me, kindling through the dust,
Which from all time hath made high deeds its voice
And token to the nations!-Off with your soul's torpor !
Rise and arm! And o'er that fiery field again
Shall the Cid's high banner stream all joyously,
And even unto death again it shall be followed!

LESSON CXLVIII.

ADDRESS OF RICHARD COUR-DE-LION.

Richard, Coeur-de-Lion, or The Lion-hearted, left his kingdom in the year 1190 to join the Crusaders, who were endeavoring to recover Jerusalem from the Saracens. He was a valiant and generous knight, but not being well supported by his allies, the holy city was not recaptured, and the crusade failed of its object. The age of chivalry, to which Lesson 145 relates, commenced with the crusades, or attempts to recover Jerusalem, and continued for several centuries. This supposed address of Richard is taken from The Talisman, a Tale by WALTER SCOTT.

And is it even so? And are our brethren at such pains to note the infirmities of our natural temper, and the rough precipitance of our zeal, which may sometimes have urged us to issue commands when there was little time to hold council? I could not have thought that offences, casual and unpremeditated like mine, could find such deep root in the hearts of my allies in this most holy cause,—that, for my sake, they should withdraw their hand from the plough when the furrow was near the end; for my sake, turn aside from the direct path to Jerusalem, which their swords have opened. I vainly thought that my small services might have outweighed my rash errors; that if it were remembered that I pressed to the van in the assault, it would not be forgotten that I was ever the last in the retreat; that if I elevated my banner upon conquered

fields of battle, this was all the advantage that I sought, while others were dividing the spoil. I may have called the conquered city by my name, but it was to others that I yielded the dominion. If I have been headstrong in urging bold counsels, I have not, methinks, spared my own blood, or my people's, in carrying them into as bold execution; or if I have in the the hurry of march or battle, assumed a command over the soldiers of others, such have been ever treated as my own, when my wealth purchased the provisions and the medicines which their own sovereigns could not procure.

But it shames me to remind you of what all but myself seem to have forgotten. Let us rather look forward to our future measures; and believe me, brethren, you shall not find the pride, or the wrath, or the ambition of Richard, a stumbling-block of offence in the path to which religion and glory summon you, as with the trumpet of an Archangel. Oh, no, no! never would I survive the thought, that my frailties and infirmities had been the means to sever this goodly fellowship of assembled princes. I would cut off my left hand with my right, could my doing so attest my sincerity. I will yield up, voluntarily, all right to command in the host, even my own liege subjects. They shall be led by such sovereigns as you may nominate, and their king, ever but too apt to exchange the leader's baton for the adventurer's lance, will serve under the banner of Beau Séant among the Templars; ay, or under that of Austria, if Austria will name a brave man to lead his forces. Or, if ye are yourselves a-weary of this war, and feel your armor chafe your tender bodies, leave but with Richard some ten or fifteen thousand of your soldiers, to work out the accomplishment of your vow, and when Zion is won, we will write upon her gates, not the names of Richard Plantagenet, but of those generous princes who intrusted him with the means of conquest.

LESSON CXLIX.

HENRY OF NAVARRE.

Henry, king of Navarre, once a small kingdom on each side of the Pyrenees, was a protestant, and his accession to the throne of France was opposed by the Catholics of France, Spain, the Netherlands and Germany, whose union against him was called the War of the League. He defeated the allies in several battles, but the decisive battle took place at Ivry (pro. E-vree,) a small town of France. The expressions attributed in the poem to this valiant prince are historically true. Rochelle was a protestant city that had suffered much in the protestant cause. Charles Mayenne, Duke of Lorraine, was the son of the Duke of Guise, who procured the assassination of Admiral Coligny, a favorite leader of the protestants. Appenzel's Infantry were the Swiss. Flanders and Guelders, then subject to Spain, were part of the Netherlands. Almayne is Germany. St. Bartholomew has reference to the bloody massacre of the protestants on the eve of that saint's day, in 1572, by order of the French king, Charles IX. Henry of Navarre, afterwards Henry IV, or Henry the Great, of France, is the hero of the Henriade, the chief Epic Poem in the French language. The author of this piece is MACAULAY.

Now glory to our Lord of Hosts, from whom all glories

are!

And glory to our sovereign liege, King Henry of Na

varre !

Now let there be the merry sound of music and of dance,

Through thy cornfields green, and sunny vines, O pleasant land of France!

And thou, Rochelle, our own Rochelle, proud city of the waters,

Again let rapture light the eyes of all thy mourning daughters.

As thou wert constant in our ills, be joyous in our joy, For cold, and stiff, and still are they, who wrought thy walls annoy.

Hurrah! Hurrah! a single field hath turned the chance of war,

Hurrah! Hurrah! for Ivry, and King Henry of Navarre !