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and the device on his shield was a young oak-tree pulled up by the roots, with the single word "Disinherited." He was mounted on a gallant black horse, and as he passed through the lists, he gracefully saluted the prince and the ladies, by lowering his lance. The dexterity with which he managed his steed, and something of youthful grace which he displayed in his manner, won him the favor of the multitude, which some of the lower classes expressed by calling out, "Touch Ralph de Vipont's shield, touch the Hospitaller's shield; he has the least sure seat; he is your cheapest bargain."

4. The champion moving onward amid the well-meant hints, ascended the platform by the sloping alley which led to it from the lists, and, to the astonishment of all present, riding straight up to the central pavilion, struck with the sharp end of his spear the shield of Brian de Bois-Guilbert, until it rang again. All stood astonished at his presumption, but none more so than the redoubted knight whom he had thus defied to mortal combat, and who, little expecting so rude a challenge, was standing carelessly at the door of his pavilion.

5. "Have you confessed yourself, brother," said the Templar, Guilbert, "and have you heard mass this morning, that you peril your life so frankly?" "I am fitter to meet death than thou art," answered the Disinherited Knight; for by this name the stranger had recorded himself in the book of the tourney. "Then take your place in the lists," said De Bois-Guilbert, "and look your last upon the sun; for this night thou shalt sleep in paradise." "Grammercy for thy courtesy," replied the Disinherited Knight, "and to requite it, I advise thee to take a fresh horse and a new lance, for, by my honor, you will need both."

6. Having expressed himself thus confidently, he reined his horse backward down the slope which he had ascended, and compelled him in the same manner to move backward through the lists, till he reached the northern extremity, where he remained stationary, in expectation of his antagonist. This feat of horsemanship again attracted the applause of the multitude.

7. However incensed at his adversary for the precaution

which he recommended, the Templar did not neglect his advice; for his honor was too nearly concerned to permit his neglecting any means which might insure victory over his presumptuous opponent. He changed his horse for a proved and fresh one of great strength and spirit. He chose a new and tough spear, lest the wood of the former might have been strained in the previous encounters he had sustained. Lastly, he laid aside his shield, which had received some little damage, and received another from his squires.

8. When the two champions stood opposed to each other at the two extremities of the lists, the public expectation was strained to the highest pitch. Few augured the possibility that the encounter could terminate well for the Disinherited Knight, yet his courage and gallantry secured the general good wishes of the spectators. The trumpets had no sooner given the signal, than the champions vanished from their posts with the speed of lightning, and closed in the center of the lists with the shock of a thunderbolt. The lances burst into shivers up to the very grasp, and it seemed, at the moment, that both knights had fallen, for the shock had made each horse recoil backward upon its haunches. The address of the riders recovered their steeds by the use of the bridle and spur; and having glared on each other, for an instant, with eyes that seemed to flash fire through the bars of their visors, each retired to the extremity of the lists, and received a fresh lance from the attendants.

9. A loud shout from the spectators, waving of scarfs and handkerchiefs, and general acclamations, attested the interest taken in the encounter. But no sooner had the knights resumed their station, than the clamor of applause was hushed into a silence so deep and so dead, that it seemed the multitude were afraid to breathe. A few minutes' pause having been allowed, that the combatants and their horses might recover breath, the trumpets again sounded the onset. The champions a second time sprung from their stations, and met in the center of the lists, with the same speed, the same dexterity, the same violence, but not the same equal fortune as before.

10. In the second encounter, the Templar aimed at the

center of his antagonist's shield, and struck it so fairly and forcibly, that his spear went to shivers, and the Disinherited Knight reeled in his saddle. On the other hand, the champion had, in the beginning of his career, directed the point of his lance toward Bois-Guilbert's shield; but changing his aim almost in the moment of encounter, he addressed to the helmet, a mark more difficult to hit, but which, if attained, rendered the shock more irresistible. Fair and true he hit the Templar on the visor, where his lance's point kept hold of the bars. Yet even at this disadvantage, Bois-Guilbert sustained his high reputation; and had not the girths of his saddle burst, he might not have been unhorsed. As it chanced, however, saddle, horse, and man, rolled on the ground under a cloud of dust.

11. To extricate himself from the stirrups and fallen steed, was to the Templar scarce the work of a moment; and stung with madness, both at his disgrace, and the acclamations by which it was hailed by the spectators, he drew his sword, and waved it in defiance of his conqueror. The Disinherited Knight sprung from his steed, and also unsheathed his sword. The marshals of the field, however, spurred their horses between them, and reminded them that the laws of the tournament did not, on the present occasion, permit this species of encounter, but that to the "Disinherited Knight" the meed of victory was fairly and honorably awarded.

LXII. THE BANNER OF PULASKI.

FROM LONGFellow.

PULASKI was a Polish officer who took part with the Americans, and fell at the taking of Savannah, during the American Revolution. His standard of crimson silk was presented to him by the Moravians of Bethlehem, Pennsylvania, and it became his shroud.

1. WHEN the dying flame of day
Through the chancel shot its ray,
Far the glimmering tapers shed
Faint light on the cowled head,
And the censer burning swung,

Where, before the altar, hung

That proud banner, which, with prayer,
Had been consecrated there;

And the nun's sweet hymn was heard the while,
Sung low in the dim, mysterious aisle.

2. "Take thy banner`!— may it wave
Proudly o'er the good and brave,
When the battle's distant wail
Breaks the Sabbath of our vale,
When the clarion's music thrills
To the heart of these lone hills,
When the spear in conflict shakes,
And the strong lance shivering breaks.

3. Take thy banner!—and beneath
The war-cloud's encircling wreath,
Guard it-till our homes are free;
Guard it- God will prosper thee.
In the dark and trying hour,
In the breaking forth of power,
In the rush of steeds and men,
His right hand will shield thee then.

4. Take thy banner! But when night
Closes round the ghastly fight,
If the vanquish'd warrior bow,
Spare him!-by our holy vow,
By our prayers and many tears,
By the mercy that endears,

Spare him!-he our love hath shar'd,
Spare him!
as thou would'st be spar'd.

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5. Take thy banner`!- and if e'er

Thou should'st press the soldier's bier,
And the muffl'd drum should beat
To the tread of mournful feet,
Then this crimson flag shall be

Martial cloak and shroud for thee,"
And the warrior took that banner proud",
And it was his martial cloak and shroud.

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THOMAS CAMPBELL is the most classical poet of the present century, and there are few modern bards whose works are more likely to be ranked among the standard classics of the language. He died in 1845.

Pandoors; Hungarian soldiers.

Hussars; Hungarian horsemen.

1. OH! sacred Truth! thy triumph ceas'd awhile,
And Hope, thy sister, ceas'd with thee to smile,
When leagu'd oppression pour'd to northern wars
Her whisker'd pandoors and her fierce hussars,
Way'd her dread standard to the breeze of morn,
Peal'd her loud drum, and twang'd her trumpet horn;
Tumultuous horror brooded o'er her van,

Presaging wrath to Poland,-and to man!

2. Warsaw's last champion, from her hights survey'd,
Wide o'er the fields, a waste of ruin laid;

(h) "Oh! heaven!" he cried, "my bleeding country save,
Is there no hand on high to shield the brave?
Yet, though destruction sweep those lovely plains,
Rise! fellow-men! our country yet remains!
By that dread name we wave the sword on high ́,
And swear for her—to live—with her—to die!”

3. (1) He said, and on the rampart-hights array'd
His trusty warriors, few, but undismay'd;
Firm-pac'd and slow, a horrid front they form,
Still as the breeze, but dreadful as the storm;
Low murmuring sounds along their banners fly,
Revenge, or death, the watch-word and reply`;
(h) Then peal'd the notes, omnipotent to charm,
And the loud tocsin toll'd their last alarm.

4. In vain, alas! in vain, ye gallant few!
From rank to rank, your volley'd thunder flew!
Oh bloodiest picture in the book of time,
Sarmatia fell, unwept, without a crime;
Found not a generous friend, a pitying foe,
Strength in her arms, nor mercy in her woe!

Dropp'd from her nerveless grasp the shatter'd spear,

Clos'd her bright eye, and curb'd her high career;
Hope, for a season, bade the world farewell,

And freedom shriek'd-as Kosciusko fell!

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