His sire, Lords, had a traitor's heart; perchance our Champion brave
May think it were a pious part to share Don Sancho's grave."

"Whoever told this tale-the King hath rashness to repeat,"
Cries Bernard, "Here my gage I fling before THE LIAR's feet!
No treason was in Sancho's blood, no stain in mine doth lie-
Below the throne what knight will own the coward calumny?

"The blood that I like water shed, when Roland did advance, By secret traitors hired and led, to make us slaves of France;The life of King Alphonso I saved at Roncesval,'—

Your words, Lord King, are recompense abundant for it all.

"Your horse was down-your hope was flown-I saw the falchion shine,

That soon had drank your royal blood, had I not ventured mine;
But memory soon of service done deserteth the ingrate,

And ye've thank'd the son, for life and crown, by the father's bloody fate.

"Ye swore upon your kingly faith, to set Don Sancho free,
But, shame upon your paltering breath, the light he ne'er did see;
He died in dungeou cold and dim, by Alphonso's base decree,
And visage blind, and stiffen'd limb, were all they gave to me.

"The king that swerveth from his word hath stain'd his purple black,
No Spanish Lord will draw the sword behind a liar's back:
But noble vengeance shall be mine, an open hate I'll show—
The King hath injur'd Carpio's line, and Bernard is his foe."

"Seize-seize him!"- loud the King doth scream-"There are a thousand here

Let his foul blood this instant stream-What caitiffs do you fear?
Seize-seize the traitor!"-But not one to move a finger dareth,-
Bernardo standeth by the throne, and calm his sword he beareth.

He drew the falchion from the sheath, and held it up on high,
And all the hall was still as death: cries Bernard, "Here am I,
And here is the sword that owns no lord, excepting Heaven and me;
Fain would I know who dares his point-King, Condé, or Grandee!"
Then to his mouth the horn he drew-(it hung below his cloak)—
His ten true men the signal knew, and through the ring they broke;
With helm on head, and blade in hand, the knights the circle brake,
And back the lordlings 'gan to stand, and the false king to quake.

“Ha! Bernard,” quoth Alphonso, "what means this warlike guise?
Ye know full well I jested-ye know your worth I prize."
But Bernard turn'd upon his heel, and smiling pass'd away-
Long rued Alphonso and his realm the jesting of that day.

1 Roncesvalles (French Roncevaux), a frontier village of Spain, in a gorge of the Pyrenees. Here, it is traditionally said, that the rear-guard of Charlemagne's army, under Roland or Orlando, was defeated and destroyed in 778, and that Roland himself fell by the hand of Bernardo del Carpio.

1. Name Bernardo's parents.

2. In what century did Charlemagne flourish ?

3. Why is Alphonso called the lying King?

4. Describe Bernardo as he approaches the throne.

5. What are the words of the king as Bernardo advances?

6. What reply does the champion make to the king's calumny and threat?

7. What facts are alluded to in verse 4th?

8. What does Bernard say of the king who breaks his faith?

9. Why was not Bernard seized at the king's command?

10. In what words does our champion challenge the king and his nobles?

11. What takes place when the horn is blown?

12. In what tone did the king now address him?

13. What sort of smile would Bernardo give on leaving the hall?

THE LADY AND ADOPTED CHILD.

MRS. HEMANS.

SOME years since, a young New Zealander was carried to England, where he lived many years, was carefully educated, and introduced into the most refined society. When his education was completed, he returned to his home, and at once returned to the habits, the character, and the degradations of savage life. This has almost uniformly been the result of attempts to civilize and educate young savages. And why? On what principle can it be accounted for? I reply, that the work was begun too late. The impressions made upon early childhood cannot be effaced. You may take the young savage, and make a palace his home, and he is like the young ass's colt: he longs for the forest, for the lawlessness of savage life. This principle is deep, uniform, unalterable. Rev. John Todd.

LADY. "Why wouldst thou leave me, oh! gentle child?
Thy home on the mountain is bleak and wild,

A straw-roofed cabin with lowly wall

Mine is a fair and pillared hall,

Where many an image of marble gleams,

And the sunshine of pictures for ever streams!"

Bor. แ "Oh! green is the turf where my brothers play,
Through the long bright hours of the summer day;
They find the red cup-moss where they climb,
And they chase the bee o'er the scented thyme;
And the rocks where the heath-flower blooms they know,
Lady, kind lady, oh! let me go!

LADY. "Content thee, boy, in my bower to dwell;
Here are sweet sounds which thou lovest well;
Flutes on the air in the stilly noon,

Harps which the wandering breezes tune:
And the silvery wood-note of many a bird,

Whose voice was ne'er in thy mountains heard."

Boy. "My mother sings at the twilight's fall,

A song of the hills far more sweet than all;
She sings it under our own green tree,
To the babe half slumbering on her knee,
I dreamt last night of that music low,

Lady, kind lady, oh! let me go!"

LADY. "Thy mother hath gone from her cares to rest,
She hath taken the babe on her quiet breast;

Thou wouldst meet her footsteps, my boy, no more,
Nor hear her song at the cabin door;

Come thou with me to the vineyards nigh,
And we'll pluck the grapes of the richest dye!"

Bor. "Is my mother gone from her home away!
But I know that my brothers are there at play;
I know they are gathering the fox-glove's bell,
And the long fern-leaves by the sparkling well,

And they launch their boats where the blue streams flow,
Lady, kind lady, oh! let me go!"

LADY. "Fair child, thy brothers are wanderers now,
They sport no more on the mountain's brow,
They have left the fern by the spring's green side,
And the streams where the fairy barks were tied.
Be thou at peace in thy brighter lot,

For thy cabin-home is a lonely spot!"

Boy. "Are they gone, all gone from the hill?
But the bird and the blue-fly rove o'er it still,
And the red deer bound in their gladness free,
And the heath is bent by the singing bee,
And the waters leap, and the fresh winds blow,
Lady, sweet lady, oh! let me go!"

THE DEATH OF KEELDAR.

SIR WALTER SCOTT.

PERCY or Percival Rede of Trochend, in Redesdale, Northumberland, is celebrated in tradition as a huntsman and a soldier. He was, upon two occasions, singularly unfortunate; once, when an arrow, which he had discharged at a deer, killed his celebrated dog Keeldar; and again, when, being on a hunting party, he was betrayed into the hands of a clan called Crossar, by whom he was murdered. Mr Cooper's painting of the first of these incidents, suggested the following stanzas.

UP ROSE the sun, o'er moor and mead;
Up with the sun rose Percy Rede;
Brave Keeldar, from his couples freed,
Career'd along the lea;

The palfrey sprung with sprightly bound,
As if to match the gamesome hound;
His horn the gallant huntsman wound:
They were a jovial three!

Man, hound, or horse, of higher fame,
To wake the wild deer never came,
Since Alnwick's Earl pursued the game

On Cheviot's' rueful day;

1 See ballad of Chevy Chase, which relates, perhaps, a totally fictitious event, unless it may be founded on the battle of Otterbourne, (1388) the only one mentioned in history in which a Douglas fell fighting with a Percy.

Keeldar was matchless in his speed, Than Tarras, ne'er was stauncher steed, A peerless archer Percy Rede:

And right dear friends were they.

The chase engross'd their joys and woes,
Together at the dawn they rose,
Together shared the noon's repose,
By fountain or by stream;

And oft when evening skies were red,
The heather was their common bed,
Where each, as wildering fancy led,
Still hunted in his dream.

Now is the thrilling moment near,
Of sylvan hope and sylvan fear,
Yon thicket holds the harbour'd deer,
The signs the hunters know;-
With eyes of flame, and quivering ears,
The brake sagacious Keeldar nears;
The restless palfrey paws and rears;
The archer strings his bow.

The game's afoot!-Halloo! Halloo!
Hunter, and horse, and hound pursue ;-
But woe the shaft that erring flew--
That e'er it left the string!
And ill betide the faithless yew!
The stag bounds scatheless o'er the dew,
And gallant Keeldar's life-blood true
Has drench'd the grey-goose wing.

The noble hound-he dies, he dies,
Death, death, has glazed his fixed eyes,
Stiff on the bloody heath he lies,
Without a groan or quiver.

Now day may break and bugle sound,
And whoop and hollow ring around,
And o'er his couch the stag may bound,
But Keeldar sleeps for ever.

Dilated nostrils, staring eyes
Mark the poor palfrey's mute surprise,
He knows not that his comrade dies,
Nor what is death-but still

His aspect hath expression drear,
Of grief and wonder, mix'd with fear,
Like startled children when they hear
Some mystic tale of ill.

But he that bent the fatal bow,
Can well the sum of evil know,
And o'er his favourite, bending low,
In speechless grief recline;

Can think he hears the senseless clay,
In unreproachful accents say,
"The hand that took my life away,
Dear master, was it thine?

"And if it be, the shaft be bless'd,
Which sure some erring aim address'd,
Since in your service prized, caress'd,
I in your service die;

And you may have a fleeter hound,
To match the dun-deer's merry bound,
But by your couch will ne'er be found
So true a guard as I.”

And to his last stout Percy rued
The fatal chance, for when he stood
'Gainst fearful odds in deadly feud,
And fell amid the fray,

E'en with his dying voice he cried,
"Had Keeldar but been at my side,
Your treacherous ambush had been spied-
I had not died to-day?"

Remembrance of the erring bow
Long since had join'd the tides which flow
Conveying human bliss and woe

Down dark oblivion's river;

But Art can Time's stern doom arrest,
And snatch his spoil from Lethe's' breast,
And, in her Cooper's colours drest,

The scene shall live for ever.

1. Give me some history of Percy Rede. 2. What suggested the stanzas to Sir Walter Scott?

3. Describe the jovial three as they might be seen at sunrise.

4. Why "Cheviot's rueful day"?

5. What were the names and qualities of master, steed, and hound?

6. In what way did the three spend the live-long day?

7. Describe the scene at the thicket that concealed the deer.

10. What things shall no more rouse noble Keeldar?

11. How looked the horse as he stood by the hound?

12. Who must feel the loss in the highest degree?

13. What may he be supposed to think he hears Keeldar say?

14. By whom was bold Percy Rede murdered?

15. What were among his last words? 16. What art keeps this affecting story

8. Of the wood of what tree were bows in remembrance?

chiefly made?

17. In what way is it now preserved

9. What mean you by the "faithless besides by Cooper's picture? yew?"

THE WIDOW OF NAIN.

N. P. WILLIS.

NAIN, so called for the pleasantness of its situation, was a town of Galilee, about two leagues from Nazareth, and not so much from Mount Tabor, between which and the city ran the river Kison. From our Saviour's meeting the funeral coming out of the

1 A river in the infernal regions whose waters caused forgetfulness.