King. Art thou the chief of that unruly baud
Who broke the treaty and assailed the Moors?
Youth. No, chief no leader of a band am I.
The leader of a band insulted me.

And those he led basely assailed my life;
With bad success indeed. If self-defence
Be criminal, O King! I have offended.

King. With what a noble confidence he speaks?
See what a spirit through his blushes breaks!
Observe him, Hamet.

Hamet. I am fixed upon him.

King. Didst thou alone engage a band of Moors,
And make such havoc ? Sure, it cannot be.
Recall thy scattered thoughts. Nothing advance
Which proof may overthrow.

Youth.

What I have said,

No proof can overthrow. Where is the man,
Who, speaking from himself, not from reports
And rumors idle, will stand forth and say,
I was not single when the Moors attacked me?
Ham. I will not be that man, though I confess
That I came hither to accuse thee, youth,

And to demand thy punishment.-Í brought

The tale our soldiers told.

Youth. The tale was false.

Ham. I thought it true, but thou hast shook my faith. The seal of truth is on thy gallant form,

For none but cowards lie.

King. Thy story tell,

With every circumstance which may explain
The seeming wonder; how a single man
In such a strife could stand?

Youth. Twill cease to be

A wonder when thou hearest the story told.
This morning on my road to Oviedo,
A while I halted near a Moorish post.
Of the commander I inquired my way,
And told my purpose; that I came to see
The famous combat. With a scornful smile,
With taunting words and gestures he replied,

Mocking my youth; advised me to retuin
Back to my father's house, and in the ring
To dance with boys and girls. He added, too,
That I should see no combat: that no knight
Of Spain durst meet the champion of the Moors.
Incensed, I did indeed retort his scorn.

The quarrel grew apace, and I defied him

To
a green hill, which rose amidst the plain,
An arrow's flight or farther from his post.
Alone we sped: alone we drew, we fought.
The Moorish captain fell. Enraged, his men
Flew to revenge his death. Secure they came,
Each with his utmost speed. Those who came first,
Single, I met and slew. More wary grown,
The rest together joined, and all at once
Assailed me. Then I had no hopes of life.
But suddenly a troop of Spaniards came,
And charged my foes, who did not long sustain
The shock, but fled. and carried to their camp

That false report which thou, O king! hast heard.

King. Now by my scepter and my sword I swear

Thou art a noble youth. An angel's voice

Could not command a more implicit faith

Than thou from me hast gained. What thinkest thou, Hamet?

Is he not greatly wronged?

Ham. By Allah! yes.

The voice of truth and innocence is bold,

And never yet could guilt that tone assume.
I take my leave, impatient to return

And satisfy my friends that this brave youth
Was not the aggressor.

(Exit Hamet.)

King. I expect no less from generous Hamet.
-Tell me, wondrous youth!

For much I long to know, what is thy name?
Who are thy parents? Since the Moor prevailed,
The cottage and the cave have oft concealed
From hostile hate the noblest blood of Spain;
Thy spirit speaks for thee. Thou art a shoot
Of some illustrious stock, some noble house,
Whose fortunes with their falling country fell.
Youth. Alberto is my name. I draw my birth
From Catalania; in the mountains there
My father dwells, and for his own domains

Pays tribute to the Moor.

He was a soldier;
Oft I have heard him of your battles speak,
Of Cavadonga's and Olalle's field.

But ever since I can remember aught,
His chief employment and delight have been
To train me to the use and love of arms:
In martial exercise we passed the day;
Morning and evening, still the theme was war.
He bred me to endure the summer's heat
And brave the winter's cold; to swim across
The headlong torrent when the shoals of ice
Drove down the stream; to rule the fiercest steeds
That on our mountains run. No savage beast
The forest yields that I have not encountered.
Meanwhile my bosom beat for nobler game;
I longed in arms to meet the foes of Spain.
Oft I implored my father to permit me,
Before the truce was made, to join the host.
He said it must not be, I was too young
For the rude service of these trying times.

King. Thou art a prodigy, and fillest my
mind
With thoughts profound, and expectation high.
When in a nation, humbled by the will
Of Providence, beneath a haughty foe,
A person rises up, by nature reared,
Sublime, above the level of mankind;

Like that bright bow the hand of the Most High
Bends in the watery cloud, he is the sign
Of prosperous change and interposing Heaven.

XI.--FROM RICHARD THE THIRD.--Shakspeare.

DREAM OF CLARENCE

BRAKENBURY-CLARENCE.

Brakenbury. Why looks your grace so heavily to-day?
Clarence. O! I have passed a miserable night,
So full of fearful dreams, of ugly sights,
That, as I am a Christian, faithful man,
I would not spend another such a night,

Though 't were to buy a world of happy days;
So full of dismal terror was the time.

Brak. What was your dream, my lord? I pray you tell

me.

Clar. Methought that I had broken from the Tower, And was embarked, to cross to Burgundy;

And in my company, my brother, Gloster;
Who from my cabin, tempted me to walk

Upon the hatches; whence we looked toward England,
And cited up a thousand heavy times,
During the wars of York and Lancaster,
That had befallen us. As we paced along
Upon the giddy footing of the hatches,

Methought, that Gloster stumbled; and, in falling,
Struck me, that thought to stay him, overboard
Into the tumbling billows of the main.

O! then, methought, what pain it was to drown!
What dreadful noise of water in mine ears!
What sights of ugly death within mine eyes !
Methought, I saw a thousand fearful wrecks;
A thousand men, that fishes gnawed upon;
Wedges of gold, great anchors, heaps of pearl,
Inestimable stones, unvalued jewels,

All scattered in the bottom of the sea.

Some lay in dead men's skulls; and, in those holes
Where eyes did once inhabit, there were crept
(As 't were in scorn of eyes) reflecting gems,
That woo'd the slimy bottom of the deep,
And mocked the dead bones that lay scattered by.
Brak. Had you such leisure, in the time of death,
To gaze upon the secrets of the deep?

Clar. Methought I had, and often did I strive
To yield the ghost; but still the envious flood
Kept in my soul, and would not let it forth
To seek the empty, vast, and wandering air;
But smothered it within my panting bulk,
Which almost burst to belch it in the sea.
Brak. Awaked you not, with this sore agony?
Clar. O no; my dream was lengthened, after life!
O, then began the tempest to my soul!

I passed, methought, the melancholy flood,
With that grim ferryman which poets write of,
Unto the kingdom of perpetual night.

The first, that there did greet my stranger soul
Was my great father-in-law, renowned Warwick;
Who cried aloud, "What scourge for perjury
Can this dark monarchy afford false Clarence ?"
And so he vanished. Then came wandering by
A shadow, like an angel, with bright hair
Dabbled in blood; and he shrieked out aloud:
"Clarence is come-false, fleeting, perjured Clarence—
That stabbed me in the field by Tewksbury:
Seize on him, furies, take him to your torments!"
With that, methought, a legion of foul fiends
Environed me, and howled in mine ears
Such hideous cries, that, with the very noise,
I, trembling, waked, and, for a season after,
Could not believe but that I was in hell;
Such terrible impression made my dream.
Brak. No marvel, lord, that it affrighted you;
I am afraid, methinks, to hear you tell it.

Clar. O, Brakenbury, I have done those things,
That now give evidence against my soul,

For Edward's sake, and see how he requites me!
O God! if my deep prayers cannot appease thee,
But thou wilt be avenged on my misdeeds,
Yet execute thy wrath on me alone:

O, spare my guiltless wife and my poor children!
-I pray thee, gentle keeper, stay by me;

My soul is heavy, and I fain would sleep.

Brak. I will, my lord: God give your grace good rest;

[Clarence reposes himself on a chair.]

Sorrow breaks seasons and reposing hours,

Makes the night morning, and the noon-tide night.