Elustrated Article.

SIR GABRIEL VESTYNDEN.

A FRAGMENT.

"Nowe shalle mye goode swerde doe mee justyce on thy villaine bodie! !"-OLD PLAY.

THE bell at even-song tolled loudly, and the surrounding cottages were one by one involved in darkness, as a weary traveller crossed the well known Salisbury plain on his way to the town. The sun had sunk behind the distant hills, and the ignis fatuus danced o'er the swamp, as if rejoicing in its departure. The peasant returned to his hut, the shepherd led his flock to the fold, and the bee and the beetle flew humming to their cells, while the deer-stealer cautiously issued from his hovel, with his cross-bow concealed beneath the ample folds of his coarse mantle, and sought the neighbouring forest. The stranger moved on, although his weary step and dusty sandals plainly told that he had travelled far that day. He bore upon his back a small F

VOL. II.

harp, and supported himself on a stout oak staff; his venerable beard descended to his girdle, in which was stuck a small horn-hafted whittle. He passed those huge monuments of antiquity, which were then, as they are now, the wonder and admiration of all who visited them; and in a short time had crossed the plain. The road to the town now lay before him, when the turrets of a strong castle overshadowed it, and the sound of merry wassail struck on the stranger's ear. Resting on his staff, he paused awhile, not knowing that he was observed by a man on the walls; he listened to the rude shouts of mirth and laughter which sounded within; when he was suddenly awakened from his reverie by a voice near him— the traveller looked up, and perceived the man who had been watching him, who accosted him with

"Well, old Sir Pilgrim, hast had thy musing fit out? Art an honest man, or a thief? Or wilt have a goodly bolt through thy hide ?"

The stranger replied,

"Methinks if thou do'st desire a mark, there is a fairer one in the merry green 33

wood; there was better quarry at Cressy and Poictiers.""

"Ah! ah! say'st thou so? then thou can'st sing of such; I see thou hast a harp at thy back; wait awhile, and I will admit thee; by my fackins, this is no time for hard blows and broken coxcombs." As he said this, he disappeared whistling, and in a few minutes the heavy drawbridge fell, and the stranger crossing it, entered the castle. His companion led him through the vaulted passages, and entering one of the rooms, placed on a table some venison and a loaf of bread, together with a stoup of ale. The stranger ate little, which the man observing, said, "Hast thou no stomach for such cheer, old Sir ?"

"Little, indeed, my son, for I have walked far, and am sore weary.' "Then thou shalt have a good litter of clean rushes anon; but thou must needs

give my master and his guests a ballad; they are making merry in the hall, for he weds the fair Lady Beatrice to-morrow; and I, Launcelot Dowbiggin, am appointed her ladyship's falconer. Art fond of hawking, old Sir, or can'st draw a bow,

or play backsword, or-?" Here Launcelot paused, as he perceived the stranger was much moved on hearing his news; but the latter, recovering himself, replied,

"I was a proper hand in all these pastimes; but those days are gone by: there was a time when Dick Moncley could hit the white, or rein a horse, or throw the bar with any youth in Gloucestershire,—but 'tis past. I have seen many strange countries since then; my youth is gone, and I am now a withered and sapless tree; but I have lived to see French pride humbled, and have seen our brave king's banner floating in the breeze on their highest towers."

"Ah, 'tis a goodly sight; can't sing of these same things?" enquired Launcelot.

"Some few lays and ballads," replied the stranger.

"Then follow me, said Launcelot, taking up a torch, "I warrant thou wilt find company who will well repay thee for thy minstrelsy.' As he said this, he led the way, followed by the stranger.

As they passed through one of the passages, the large mantle and frock in

which the stranger was enveloped caught by a nail, and Launcelot hastily turning round, saw to his astonishment that his companion wore a jazerant of steel under his vestments. Launcelot, though somewhat daunted at this discovery, plucked out his dagger, when a well known voice startled him.

66

My dear master, my much honoured Sir Gabriel," cried he, flinging himself at the feet of the harper, who had plucked off his sham beard, " by what miracle art thou arrived here?-I thought thee dead-Say, art thou my honoured master, or do mine eyes deceive me?"

"Thou see'st him here alive and well," replied the knight ; " but prithee restrain thy joy, (if joy it be,) and help me to attire myself in this disguise, for I would not have my being under this roof known."

Launcelot instantly led his master into a small room, and while he helped him with his disguise, the knight related to him some of his adventures, and in return begged to be informed of what had taken place during his absence.

“Ihave heard,” said he, “ that mý honoured father is dead, and that my cousin Ralph Vestynden has been left in care of the castle. How fares the Lady Beatrice ?"

Sorrily, I fear," replied Launcelot, shaking his head. "There was a report that thou wert dead, and sadly has she grieved. Heaven forbid that I should say aught against your kinsman, but I fear good lies not under that heavy brow of his."

"He is a villain!" passionately exclaimed Sir Gabriel," he is a villain and a murtherer! He has murthered the father, and would destroy the son; but Heaven has reserved me to hurl destruction on him. I will tell thee, Launcelot, vhen near Poictiers, I was one of the advanced guard; we were marching in the dead of night, when an arrow struck me: my trusty coat was proof against the shaft, and a voice cried, Ralph Vestynden greets thee.' I spurred my horse to the place where the voice seemed to come from, and there beheld by the light of the noon two men crouched among the underwood; I slew one with a blow of my mace, and my men secured the other villan. He confessed that 'twas my kinsman who had hired them."

6

"Then he is the villain I thought him,” said Launcelot; " often have we had messengers here, rough fellows whom we never saw before, who, after having seen and spoken with Sir Ralph, have ridden off again; trust me there are many lying in ambush for thee, my master."

"I doubt it not; but did'st thou not tell me Sir Ralph would marry the lady Beatrice to-morrow? Does she consent to the match ?"

"I know not, but she always looks pale and sad, and will sometimes weep when she hears your name mentioned; and Sir Ralph has forbidden us to speak of you in her presence.'

The knight's eyes flashed fire; he bit his lip, and seemed to be maintaining a violent struggle with his feelings.

"Launcelot," at length he said, "this marriage must be prevented: are thy fellows still attached to me ?"

"Attached!" cried Launcelot, "they would all fight for ye; nay, would render up their lives to do ye service; but caution must be used, for Sir Ralph has several ruffianly fellows always at his command, whose hands know as well the way to the sword hilt as to their neighbour's purses; we like them not, but grumbling would surely bring us to the oak branch. There is Rough Robin to be sure, and Will-leDale, and Jack the Miller, with his five sons; all good men and proper, and shrewd hands at the long bow; and there are some half score of us here, who would stand by ye. The miller says that your worthy father died somewhat sudden, and Sir Ralph threatened; but as he is not his vassal, the miller laughs at him." "Enough," said the knight, "lead me to the hall, and say I am a wandering minstrel, who would fain enliven them with a tune.-Lead on."

Launcelot led his young master to the door of the hall, and bidding him wait awhile, proceeded to ask Sir Ralph if he would like to have the minstrel admitted. He soon returned, and led Sir Gabriel into the hall. There, at a large table, sat Sir Ralph, totally unconscious of the presence of his greatly wronged kinsman. He and his companions sat over their cups, and their unsteady hands and inflamed eyes told that their draughts had been deep and frequent. The hawks, perched on the rafters above, were startled by the boisterous mirth below them, and Sir Ralph was in the act of calling on one of his companions for a song, when Launcelot led forth the minstrel.

"Well, Launcelot," said Sir Ralph, "what old grey-beard hast there ?whence comes he?-Speak, Sir Minstrel, from whence comest thou ?"

"From France and the low countrie. I have travelled far and wide."

"Ah! France do'st thou say? Hast ever heard of one Sir Gabriel Vestynden, who fought in the English army ? 25

""Tis said he was murthered just before the battle of Poictiers," replied the

minstrel; "but whether it be true or false, I know not."

Sir Ralph's heavy brow was raised for a moment, and a grim smile illumined his dark countenance, as he thought that his kinsman had probably fallen beneath the hands of his hired assassins, and he replied

"Then the heavy tidings we received last week are true: God rest my kinsman's soul !"

As he said this, he took a deep draught of wine, and setting down the empty goblet, he desired the minstrel to begin. Sir Gabriel, after a short prelude, sung the following song, accompanying it with his harp :

Friar Ambrose, that right merrie elf, Bids ye keep in your pouches your pelf; For the flaggon and bowl, Endangers the soul;

But he loves wine and wassail himself.

He tells us he knows full well,
That Sathan, that foul fiend of Hell,
Has a bait in each lass,

Who may chance to pass,-
But we know who was found in his cell.

And fat Abbot Boniface says,
Wine will certainly shorten our days;
But we'll tell him he lies,
And that wine and bright eyes,

In spite of them both, shall have praise.

"By the coals that grilled St. Lawrence, "exclaimed Sir Ralph, " 'tis a right merry song!" and he poured out a goblet of wine with his own hand, and presented it to the minstrel. Sir Gabriel felt as though he could have dashed the goblet and its contents at the face of his kinsman ; but he checked himself, and muttering," Gramercy, Sir Knight,' (though well aware, that if Sir Ralph knew whom he had offered it to, he would have wished it a cup of hemlock,) he drank off the wine, and placing the goblet on the table, drew his hood closer to his face, and watched his kinsman narrowly.

Sir Ralph observed him not, and after a few moments had elapsed, he said, "Hast thou any love-tale, fit for a fair lady's ear?"

"Many, noble Knight," was the hasty reply of Sir Gabriel; for he divined the reason of the question, and was not mistaken, for Sir Ralph desired one of his men to bring the Lady Beatrice into the

hall.

She shortly after entered, and Sir Ralph rose and handed her to a seat, with, as much gallantry as he was capable of. He then commanded the minstrel to play another air. Sir Gabriel saw with sorrow the altered appearance of his beloved

Beatrice. She was pale and sad, and sat with her head resting on her hand, apparently unconscious of all that was passing, she heeded not Sir Ralph when he spoke to her, but caressed a small spaniel which sat looking in her face, as if it felt its mistress's sorrows.

Sir Gabriel sat intently gazing on his lady-love and her spaniel, which he had presented to her just before he left Eng ́land, when his kinsman bade him play another air. Sir Gabriel struck his harp again, and commenced playing a ballad, which he had often sung to Beatrice before he left England. As her ear caught the first notes, she was sensibly affected, and ere he had finished one stanza, she covered her face with her hands, whilst the tears fast flowing gushed between the interstices of her fair fingers.

Sir Ralph rose, and staggering up to her, attempted to put his arm round her waist, when Beatrice repulsed him, and Sir Gabriel forgetting his disguise, threw down his harp, and grasped the handle of his whittle; but at the same moment Launcelot whispered in his ear,-" For our Lady's sake, do not discover yourself, or you are lost!"

Sir Ralph, however, observed the minstrel's anger, and hurling a goblet at him with all his force, he commanded his men to seize the harper, and hurry him to one of the dungeons below the foundation of the castle. The men rose, and staggered up to Sir Gabriel to obey their master, when Launcelot interfered,—

"Hold" cried he, "the knave has deceived me; therefore the securing of him rests in me; leave him to my care, I will teach him to respect his betters."

As he said this, he seized Sir Gabriel, (whose pretended age gave Sir Ralph no fear that he would escape,) and hurried him out of the hall. Launcelot spoke not till he had led his master into one of the deepest dungeons of the castle.

"This," said he, " is a sorry room, but wait till to-morrow, and I will then release you."

"To-morrow!-to-morrow to me will be an age," cried the knight. "Hast thou not said that my villainous kinsman weds the Lady Beatrice to-morrow? Do'st thou think I will live to see this?"

66

"Softly, softly, my dear Sir Gabriel," cried Launcelot, compose thyself, and I will unfold to thee a plan by which we may prevent this marriage, and seize your kinsman. To-morrow the castle gates will be thrown open, and all the country will come to partake of the good cheer. You will be forgotten in this dungeon, and ere the hour arrives that makes the Lady Beatrice your vile kinsman's bride,

I will bring in the stout miller and his sons. Fear not, but wait patiently."

Launcelot left his master, and shortly after brought in a litter of straw, with which he strewed the floor of the dungeon. He then produced a flask of wine, bidding Sir Gabriel hide it amongst the straw if he should be visited by any of the other domestics; and leaving a lamp burning, he quitted his master, promising to visit him early the next morning.

On the following morning, Launcelot failed not to wait on his master in the dungeon. He brought with him a stout sword, together with a bugle. The knight was soon ready, and Launcelot bidding him be of good cheer, desired him not to venture out till he came to him. In a short time all was ready, and Launcelot returned.

66 Now," said he, my dear master, the wished-for moment has arrived for you to sally forth. The vile Sir Ralph is in the hall with the Lady Beatrice the Abbot has arrived-the company are flocking in, and may God speed ye!"

"I will,” said Šir Gabriel," but I would fain go in the same disguise as I had on yesterday. In that I will enter the hall, and when thou and thy fellows hear the blast of my bugle, be ready to rush in with thy aid."

All was life and bustle in the great hall of the castle. Sir Ralph thought he had all now within his grasp. The Abbot entered, and took his stand at the temporary altar. Shortly after Sir Ralph entered the hall, leading the Lady Beatrice. Five of his followers stood near him, and seemed to exult in the sacrifice which was about to be made. Beatrice advanced a few steps towards the altar, then paused, as if she had formed a sudden resolution, when Sir Ralph cried

"Fair lady, this ill-bearing becomes not a damsel at such a time as this; advance, and let the holy Father Abbot proceed with the ceremony."

All

Beatrice replied not; her eyes filled with tears, and she was near falling, when one of her maids supported her. pitied her, though they durst not avow it, as they feared Sir Ralph and his grim followers. Enraged at the delay, Sir Ralph seized her arm, and rudely dragged her towards the altar, when Sir Gabriel entered the hall disguised as on the preceding night and observing the violence of Sir Ralph, he said,

Forbear thy rashness! do'st thou not fear the just anger of offended Heaven?" "Ah!" cried Sir Ralph, as he stamped ou the marble floor of the hall, "do'st thou come to beard a knight in his own

castle!-Away with thee, or by my father's crest I will have thee flayed alive.”

"Villain!" cried Sir Gabriel, tearing off his false beard, and throwing aside his disguise, "thy hour is come; draw, and look upon thy death!"

Sir Ralph was thunderstruck at the apparition of his kinsman; he stood motionless for some moments, as if struggling for an utterance, then turning to his followers, he bade them seize him, saying, at the same time, in a tone of bitter irony, "Cousin, thou art welcome to my wedding!"

But ere they advanced to lay hands on him, Sir Gabriel blew a loud blast on his bugle; it was answered instantly, and Launcelot and his friends entered the hall.

"Death to him who moves to the rescue!" cried the miller, drawing his shaft to the head; "throw down your weapons-the first who stirs has a clothyard shaft through his doublet.”

Sir Ralph's men, finding that the odds were against them, gave up their swords; while Sir Ralph, finding all lost, determined to sell his life as dearly as possible. Turning to his kinsman, he said, in a voice almost choked with rage

"Gabriel Vestynden, thou hast not saved thy bride yet."

And he aimed a blow at the breast of Beatrice. Sir Gabriel parried the stroke, and his kinsman turning, attacked him with great fury. Beatrice closed her eyes, and fell almost senseless into the arms of one of her maidens. She heard the hurried tramp of feet, and the clash of steel, and she called aloud on the Virgin to succour her true love, Sir Gabriel. Her prayers were not unheard-Sir Ralph fell cover ed with wounds, and while he lay in the throes of death, Beatrice flung herself into the arms of her lover, and sobbed out his name.

Need we add, that Sir Gabriel was soon after wedded to his true love; need we tell our readers that honest Launcelot was rewarded for his attachment and courage; or need we tell how many knights and their "ladys faire" graced the wedding feast? Such rejoicings were long remembered by all. Sir Gabriel and his Beatrice lived many years in uninterrupted happiness, while the body of his false kinsman mouldered in its tomb in the Cathedral at Salisbury. That tomb bore only this inscription

Of your Charitie Praye for ye sowle of Raufe Vestynden.

J. Y. A- -N.