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'Come on, come on, my lovely bride,'
Cried Fernan, loud and clear;
'I see the pennon of Castile,
'My gallant men are here.'

And joy the Infanta's bosom filled

To see that pennon wave,

To hear the shout,' Castile, Castile,'-
From many a vassal brave.

Nor was this the only occasion, where Doña Sancha was of service to the Count. It seems that Doña Teresa once more contrived to procure the imprisonment of Fernan Gonzalez, when he was peaceably attending the Cortes of the kingdom of Leon as a vassal of Don Sancho. Soon afterwards Doña Sancha announced her determination to repair in pilgrimage to the shrine of Santiago, to intercede with heaven for the release of the Count; and on the way she could not but pass through Leon, where the Count lay in prison. In passing she was graciously received by the King, who was her near kinsman; and of course she obtained permission to visit her husband. She did so, and, as the guards supposed, departed at the appointed time; but it turned out that the Count had issued forth disguised in the female apparel and pilgrim's weeds of Doña Sancha, who remained to abide the resentment of the King, but was, ere long, honorably released by him; for it was impossible to punish a lady, who had so gallantly and ingeniously served her husband. She deserves to be associated in

fame, as she is in gallantry, with the wives of Grotius, of Nithsdale, and of Lavallette. And the bold Count skilfully availed himself of his freedom to be revenged of the King of Leon. Don Sancho, it seems, had purchased a valuable war-horse of Fernan Gonzalez; and one of the conditions of the purchase had been, that for every day's delay of payment, after a certain period, the price should be progressively doubled. In this way, Don Sancho had unwittingly incurred a debt which all the treasures of his kingdom could not pay; and as Fernan Gonzalez insisted upon the penalty of the bond, and there was no court of equity which could relieve the poor King from the unconscionable bargain, he was fain to agree, in consideration of the discharge of the debt, to release Castile from all further fealty to the crown of Leon; and thus, it is averred by the chroniclers, did Castile become independent.

It is not surprising, therefore, that Fernan Gonzalez should have become, as he is, one of the favorite heroes of Spanish romance, dividing the field with Don Pelayo, Bernardo del Carpio, and the Cid.

VALENCIA,

A PICTURE OF THE LIVING AND THE DEAD.

There was a time, in the gay spring of life,
When every note was as the mountain lark's,
Merry and cheerful to salute the morn;
When all the day was made of melody.

-Lay her i' the earth;

And from her fair and unpolluted flesh

May violets spring!

SOUTHERN.

SHAKSPEARE.

Gay hope is theirs, by fancy fed,
Less pleasing when possessed,
The tear forgot as soon as shed
The sunshine of the breast:
Theirs buxom health, of rosy hue;
Wild wit, invention ever new,
And lively cheer of vigor born;
The thoughtless day, the easy night,
The spirits pure, the slumbers light,
That fly the approach of morn.
Alas, regardless of their doom,

The little victims play!

No sense have they of ills to come,

No care beyond to-day.

Sweet day, so cool, so calm, so bright,
The bridal of the earth and sky,

Sweet dews shall weep thy fall to-night,

For thou must die.

Sweet rose, whose hue, all bright and brave,
Bids the rash gazer wipe his eye,

Thy root is ever in its grave,

And thou must die.

Sweet spring, full of sweet days and roses,

A box where sweets compacted lie,

My music shows you have your closes,

And all must die.

Only a sweet and virtuous soul

Like Oriont diamond never dims,

But when death's knell is heard to toll,

Then chiefly lives,

GRAY.

HERBERT'S TEMPLE,

VALENCIA.

How pure in spirit, how joyous in the unsophisticated simplicity of an overflowing heart, are the sports of early youth! It is the very 'May of life,' when its atmosphere is bland, its blue sky serenely cloudless, and the beams of a cheerful and vivifying sun shine forth on its path.-It is the spring-tide of our existence, when the waters of happiness come welling up in the soul in the unstinted abundance of their native freshness. There is no after period of our journey on earth, which, in blended vivacity and purity of pleasure attached to the mere enjoyment of life, can equal our juvenile days.-Goldsmith has said,

'The sports of childhood satisfy the child.'

But they do more. They awaken, in the breasts of the mature, the thoughtful, even the busiest of the devotees of worldly pursuit, delightful reminiscences of those gladsome hours, when time was to them, also, full of a mellow brightness, like a

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