foe-a foe. Form men, form- place the ladies in the rear. Rest your lances, brave hearts, and be ready for the recreants."
The very first ejaculation of the knight had been followed by the appearance of an armed force on the brow of the hill, and before he ceased speaking it was evident that the insignia of the Vivaldo family were borne in the front of the troop, and that the intentions of the strangers were hostile. The Lady Beatrice and her women were instantly hurried to the rear of the knight's cavalcade, and preparations made to meet the foe. The armed condottieri-for such were the kind of troops led by the Duke-gave their foes no breathing time, but ere the little band of Adanta could well arrange its front, dashed down the hill. Luckily there was a level space of some extent betwixt the knight's force and the foot of the hill. He suffered the foe accordingly to descend the acclivity before he moved ; but as soon as the condottieri had gained the plain, he shouted, "Charge-for God and St. Mark-ho ! have at them," and levelling his long lance, while his men-at-arms followed his example, he dashed at full gallop to meet the foe. The shock of the meeting squadrons was like that of an earthquake. For a minute nothing could be seen but the clouds of dust in which the combatants were involved ; but the anxious females and their little guard could plainly distinguish, amid the ringing of steel and the shricks of the wounded, the shouts of the respective leaders. At length the fight seemed receding, and after one or two desperate stands the forces of the assailants were seen retreating over the hill. In less than ten minutes the knight and his followers returned from the chase, and riding up to the Lady Beatrice and her attendants, he said, "The day is won, at least for the present. The knaves have been as you see, driven to a base retreat. But how many more ambuscades they may prepare for us there is no telling, so we had best push on and that right sharply too. Although had I not charge of you, dear Beatrice, I would chase the villains to the very shores of Venice." The cavalcade was about setting forth again, when one of the men-at-arms approached. "The fellow whom you took prisoner, my lord," he said, "has confessed that the Duke has had spies for a month to watch the convent, with the intention of taking prisoner the lady as soon as she should leave the protection of its walls." "The double-dyed villain !" ejaculated the knight. "What shall we do with the prisoner, my lord ?" asked the man after a pause. 66 Scourge the wretch and let him go." The troop now pushed forward, but any one who had looked toward the rear would have seen that the retainers of the knight did not forget his command, but
| that, amid the laughter of the bold followers, the prisoner and traitor received his deserts. As they passed the field where the conflict had lately taken place, and where two or three of the enemy lay mortally wounded or dead, Beatrice turned away with a shudder. The knight saw it and hurried forward the troop, but said nothing. Their journey was thenceforth pursued without molestation, and the aunt of our heroine soon welcomed her to Rome. The circumstances of the lover had meanwhile been greatly altered since the day when he parted from the Lady Beatrice at the Duke's summer palace on the Brenta. Then Adanta was but a poor scholar, or at most only a needy adventurer- now he was possessed of large estates, a title, and followed by an array of retainers. His pride no longer prevented him from a union with Beatrice, and with the consent of her aunt, her only relative except the Duke, they were united. Our hero wore, at the ceremony, the armor in which he had defended Beatrice ; for such was her request ; while his gallant retainers stood around, under the same banner which they had so nobly borne in the fray.
FRAGMENT . BY PROFESSOR WILSON . "Tis a lonely glen ! but the happy child Hath friends whom she meets in the morning wild! As on she trips , her native stream , Like her hath awoke from a joyful dream ; And glides away by her twinkling feet With a face as bright and a voice as sweet. In the osier bank the ouzel sitting, Hath heard her steps, and away is flitting From stone to stone, as she glides along, Then sinks in the stream with a broken song. The lapwing, fearless of his nest, Stands looking round with his delicate crest ; Or a love-like joy is in his cry, As he wheels, and darts, and glances by. Is the heron asleep on the silvery sand Of his little lake ? Lo ! his wings expand As a dreamy thought, and withouten dread, Cloud-like he floats o'er the maiden's head. She looks to the birchwood glade, and lo ! There is browsing there the mountain roe, Who lifts up her gentle eyes- nor moves As on glides the form whom all nature loves. Having spent in heaven an hour of mirth, The lark drops down to the dewy earth ; And in silence smooths his yearning breast In the gentle fold of his lowly nest, The linnet takes up the hymn unseen In the yellow broom or the bracken green.
