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to Coyn, where their nuptials were celebrated with great rejoicings. When the festivities were over, Don Rodrigo de Narvaez returned to his fortress of Allora.
After his departure, the Alcayde of Coyn addressed his children: • To your hands,' said be, 'I confide the disposition of my wealth. One of the first things I charge you, is not to forget the ransom you owe to the Alcayde of Allora. His magnanimity you can never repay, but you can prevent it from wronging him of his just dues. Give him, moreover, your entire friendship, for he merits it fully, though of a different faith.'
The Abencerrage thanked him for his generous proposition, which so truly accorded with his own wishes. He took a large sum of gold, and enclosed it in a rich coffer; and, on his own part, sent six beautiful horses, superbly caparisoned; with six shields and lances, mounted and embossed with gold. The beautiful Xarisa, at the same time, wrote a letter to the Alcayde, filled with expressions of gratitude and friendship, and sent him a box of fragrant cypress wood, containing liven, of the finest quality, for his person. The valiant Alcayde disposed of the present in a characteristic manner. The horses and armor he shared among the cavaliers who had accompanied him on the night of the skirmish. The box of cypress wood and its contents he retained, for the sake of the beautiful Xarisa ; and sent her, by the hands of the messenger, the sum of gold paid as a ransom, entreating her to receive it as a wedding present. This courtesy and magnanimity raised the character of the Alcayde Rodrigo de Narvaez still higher in the estimation of the Moors, who extolled him as a perfect mirror of chivalric virtue; and from that time forward, there was a continual exchange of good offices between them.
Ring, ring with a merry peal, the bell, Toll, toll with a solemn peal, the knell!
For the bridal hour hath come; (tell, For a year hath passed away,
The return of this bridal day!
Grief's fount is stirred,
Grief's sigh is heard
As a cheerless one,
By a grave alone,
Pours to heaven her bitter tale!
For the touch of a loving hand she feels, And is it the same, that timorous bride,
And the strength of a guiding arm, Late the boast of a brighter scene! (side, While the blissful smile of her lover steals Who kneels on the turf, by a fresh grave's O'er her spirit, like a charm:
With that sad, that altered mien i
'Tis the same young bride!
O, what ills betide,
In the flight of a single year!
For the widow's name
She, alas! must claim,
And her wealıh is the widow's tear! Cedar Brook, 1839.
BY REV. WALTER COTON, UNITED STATES NAVY,
He might have soared, a miracle of mind,
Above the doubts that dim this shadowy sphere,
Those prophet-iones, which men had turned to hear,
But he betrayed his trust, and lent his gift
Of glorious faculties to blight and mar
The anchored hopes of millions : thus the star
That orb hath set ; yet still its lurid light
Flashes above the broad horizon's verge,
Should pause upon the ocean's boiling surge ;
Lighi for itself a fierce volcanic tomb !
À VISIT TO GARRICK.
A LETTER FROM STURZ:
FIRST TRANSLATED FROM TRE
London, August 24th, 1768. I LEFT this city early yesterday morning, accompanied by Murphy, the dramatist, on a visit to the country seat of Mr. Garrick, where I have passed one of the happiest days of my life.
It was a most voluptuous summer morning. A light transparent vapor, such as we see in the landscapes of Claude, trembled over the fields, and the face of nature was improved by the veil. I felt as if I were borne upon ether. Every thing around me was smiling in delight. Such joyful feelings of existence are enough to banish all the sophisms touching the predominance of ill in this good world.
The dwelling of Garrick is a little palace, of beautiful proportions. It stands upon the bank of the Thames, which here winds through richly-settled and elaborately-ornamented grounds. His garden, as it is called, is but a plat of clean and verdant turf, scattered about which, without regard to symmetry, is a variety of shrubbery and trees. Near the water, stands that British sanctuary, the Temple of Shakspeare. The statue of the Immortal is of white marble, in life size. In the expression which the artist has given him, he seems transported among the scenes he has himself created, and to be listening to the song of Ariel.
There is little style or pretension in the interior of Garrick's dwelling; but a serene, noble simplicity pervades the apartments.
Here and there are to be seen objects which mark the peculiar genius, and sometimes the humor, of the possessor. The tapestry is all of light, soft, and agreeable colors, hung with excellent pictures of the most renowned actors and actresses, taken en rôle. Here are the four celebrated originals, by Hogarth, entitled • The Election.' A fifth, by the same master, is yet more remarkable. It was intended as the first of a series of four paintings, to represent. The Happy Marriage,' which was to have been a counterpart to his renowned • Marriage à la mode ;' but whether nature was deficient in models for this subject, or the artist in invention, I do not know. Only one of the pictures is commenced, and in this, the head of the bride is alone completed. Hogarth here shows himself to be a skilful painter of beauty. A more soft, lovely, and altogether attractive countenance, has seldom been produced. I also saw Garrick’s portrait, by our country-woman, Angelica Kaufmann, painted in gray; and another on China, copied from Reynolds, in which Garrick appears as a disguised Chinese. While among the productions of art, I must not neglect to speak of a small box, made from the sacred mulberry tree, in the shade of which Shakspeare was wont to repose. This relic is exhibited with the most devout emotion. But you
desire to hear something of the man and of the actor. I shall not speak to day, and perhaps never; for Professor Lichtenberg has said all that can be said on this subject. You are already aware that Garrick is a handsome man. It is true, he is not a demi-god in person, being a little below medium size; and he wants about a pied du Roi, to realize the ideal forms of the Greek and Roman heroes, or what the French term, the high tragic stature.' Yet his figure is neat and comely ; full, without being fat; firm and nervous. When he speaks, his whole body is animated, and every play of his muscles, every external movement, accords admirably with the inward emotions. I think I have never seen so expressive a face, or limbs which seemed more fully and gracefully to participate in his theme. While Previllon was once enacting the part of a drunkard, to an admiring audience, Garrick cried out to him, ' Your feet are sober!'
You observe, at first sight, that gayety, raillery, and hence comedy, are natural to Garrick. A keen humor, a satirical Hudibrastic archness, flashes from his eyes; yet as it is always united with great hilarity of feeling, it rather attracts than repels. You may imagine what entire contro], and what creative power, he must possess over his physiognomy, to hide so completely such original stamps of nature, when in his great tragic characters; and still you must fall short in your conceptions, unless you know the man, and then see him as Lear, in the storm-scene, or his hell-visage in the battle scene of Richard.
Garrick associates with the first of the land, and is much honored and beloved by them. Fortunately for his friends, he has not contracted that tone of the haut société which fetters, by conventional laws, the freedom and the glad impulses of nature. This noble tree could not be transformed into a clipped garden hedge. He allows free play to his humor, and believes that mirth and heart-felt laughter form the grand elixir of life. The character of his wit is shown in his epilogues and prologues, which abound in facetious contrasts, pleasing equivoques, jeu-de-mots, and apt quotations from the ancient and modern dramatists, or from his favorite poet, Horace. The
qualities of his heart you may best learn from his epistolary correspondence with his friends, where a light, flowing style is the vehicle of the most noble feelings. He is prolific in anecdotes, and acts what he relates ; frequently converting mere bagatelles into dramas. The features and voice of others are accurately reflected in his own. Here, too, we see something of that language of action, which is so true to nature, and so effective, in his great tragic personations. I recently beheld the power of this silent language, in the daggerscene of Macbeth. A gentleman who was in my company at the theatre, wholly unacquainted with the English language, fell horrorstricken and senseless upon the floor, while Garrick was clutching the 'air drawn-dagger of the mind.'
MEMORIALS are ye, of time passed away!
The summer wind plays lightly in the bough;
Seeking for light! for light! beyond the skies,
E'en to the glorious gate of paradise !
By one who dwells in eastern lands afar,
Steers his lone bark by yonder radiant star;
Thou, where the storm-vexed waters onward sweep;
To point ye homeward o'er the pathless deep!
OR THE ELECTIVE FRANCHISE: A SKETCH OF LONG-ISLAND, DRAWN FROM LIFE.
BY TAE AUTHOR OF THE CIRCUS,' ETC.
Those persons prophesied truly, who said that the November elections would be the hottest ever contested in the town of and throughout the whole of Queens county. So equally were the parties balanced, that the majorities were calculated by units, and the slightest dereliction on the part of either, would be enough to turn the scale of victory. The most powerful efforts were therefore to be made by each, to bring their entire weight to bear, while those who took no active part, were about to look on with the eagerness of those who gaze upon the ground where Greek meets Greek, in an exactly equal contest, and where skilful tactics keep the issue in suspense.
The faction whose motions we are chiefly to consider, had upon their ticket for assemblyman, the name of Mr. Silas Roe, a gentleman who was a butcher by profession, a man of good intentions, of unflinching honesty, and of no education. This last attribute was not considered essential by the party who had placed him in nomination. They had much rather he should toe the mark,' and did not like your men of college learning. Such persons, they said, were above the people, not of them, and could not know their wants. Their principles on this point had found a triumphant vindication in Mr. Roe's predecessor, the Hon. Sandy Fink, who, it was notorious, could hardly write his own name, and yet who stood forth so prominently in the field of politics, and received the favor of his constituents so often, that I shall begin by presenting a slight sketch of his political career.
Mr. Sandy Fink was descended from an illustrious race of clammen, who dwelt on the south side of Long-Island. There is a place called Rockaway, open to the sea, whether so named from a race of Indians, now extinct, or from the rocking of the waves, I cannot tell. In summer, it is an acceptable retreat for citizens, who flee from the fury of the dog-star, or from the odors of the town. Here, when you have escaped the weary monotony of home, you may enjoy that public privacy, which is so congenial to the reflective mind; the screaming of many children trundling their hoops, and the delightful society of nurses. To these advantages, which are common to other watering places, Rockaway annexes others, which are peculiarly its
Here is a noble Pavilion, with a piazza overlooking the sea, and epicurean tables, which all the elements are ransacked to supply. Before you is an illimitable stretch of white sands, and the sea, the sea, the open sea,' rolling in boundless magnificence. It is impossible to enumerate all its delights. By day, the breeze comes up cool and refreshing; every night there are dances; and Neptune is delighted with the sound of the viol, blending with the music of the waves.
Not far from this place lives the Hon. Sandy Fink. He occupies the comfortable abode of his fathers, and followed, until very lately,