"FATHER!" at length he murmur'd low, and wept like childhood

then :

Talk not of grief till thou hast seen the tears of warlike men!
He thought on all his hopes, and all his young renown,
He flung his falchion from his side, and in the dust knelt down.

Then, covering with his steel-gloved hands his darkly mournful brow,

"No more, there is no more," he said, "to lift the sword for, now; My king is false, ― my hope betray'd! My father, -O! the worth, The glory and the loveliness are pass'd away from Earth!

I thought to stand where banners waved, my sire, beside thee, yet! I would that there our kindred blood on Spain's free soil had met! Thou wouldst have known my spirit, then: for thee my fields were

won;

And thou hast perish'd in thy chains, as though thou hadst no son!"

Then, starting from the ground once more, he seized the monarch's rein,

Amidst the pale and wilder'd looks of all the courtier-train;
And, with a fierce, o'ermastering grasp, the rearing warhorse led,
And sternly set them face to face, the king before the dead:

"Came I not forth, upon thy pledge, my father's hand to kiss?— Be still, and gaze thou on, false king! and tell me, what is this? The voice, the glance, the heart I sought, —give answer, where are they?

If thou wouldst clear thy perjured soul, send life through this cold

clay!

Into these glassy eyes put light; - be still! keep down thine ire ! — Bid these white lips a blessing speak, — this earth is not my sire: Give me back him for whom I strove, for whom my blood was

shed!

Thou canst not?—and a king!- his dust be mountains on thy head!

He loosed the steed, — his slack hand fell: upon the silent face He cast one long, deep, troubled look, then turn'd from that sad

place:

His hope was crush'd, his after fate untold in martial strain :
His banner led the spears no more amidst the hills of Spain.

COUNT CANDESPINA'S STANDARD.

GEO. H. BOKER.

The King of Aragon now entered Castile, by way of Soria and Osma, with a powerful army; and, having been met by the Queen's forces, both parties encamped near Sepulveda, and prepared to give battle.

This engagement, called, from the field where it took place, de la Espina, is one of the most famous of that age. The dastardly count of Lara fled at the first shock, and joined the Queen at Burgos, where she was anxiously awaiting the issue; but the brave Count of Candespina stood his ground to the last, and died on the field of battle. His standard-bearer, a gentleman of the house of Olea, after having his horse killed under him, and both hands cut off by sabre-strokes, fell beside his master, still clasping the standard in his arms, and repeating his war-cry of "Olea!". Annals of the Queens of Spain.

SCARCE were the splinter'd lances dropp'd,

Scarce were the swords drawn out,

Ere recreant Lara, sick with fear,

Had wheel'd his steed about:

His courser rear'd, and plunged, and neigh'd,
Loathing the fight to yield;

But the coward spurr'd him to the bone,
And drove him from the field.

Gonzalez in his stirrups rose :

"Turn, turn, thou traitor knight! Thou bold tongue in a lady's bower, Thou dastard in a fight!"

But vainly valiant Gomez cried
Across the waning fray :
Pale Lara and his craven band
To Burgos scour'd away.

"Now, by the God above me, sirs,
Better we all were dead

Than a single knight among ye all
Should ride where Lara led!

Here on this little mound;
Here raise the war-cry of thy House,
Make this our rallying-ground.

Forget not, as thou hopest for grace:
The last care I shall have

Will be to hear thy battle-cry,
And see that standard wave."

Down on the ranks of Aragon
The bold Gonzalez drove,
And Olea raised his battle-cry,
And waved the flag above.

Slowly Gonzalez' little band

Gave ground before the foe;
But not an inch of the field was won
Without a deadly blow;

And not an inch of the field was won
That did not draw a tear

From the widow'd wives of Aragon,
That fatal news to hear.

Backward and backward Gomez fought,
And high o'er the clashing steel
Plainer and plainer rose the cry,
"Olea for Castile!"

Backward fought Gomez, step by step, Till the cry was close at hand,

Till his dauntless standard shadow'd him; And there he made his stand.

Mace, sword, and axe rang on his mail,
Yet he moved not where he stood,
Though each gaping joint of armour ran
A stream of purple blood.

As, pierced with countless wounds, he fell,
The standard caught his eye,

And he smiled, like an infant hush'd asleep, To hear the battle-cry.

Now one by one the wearied knights

Have fallen, or basely flown;

And on the mound where his post was fix'd

Olea stood alone.

"Yield up thy banner, gallant knight!
Thy lord lies on the plain :
Thy duty has been nobly done;
I would not see thee slain."

"Spare pity, King of Aragon!
I would not hear thee lie:

My lord is looking down from Heaven
To see his standard fly.”

"Yield, madman, yield! thy horse is down,

Thou hast nor lance nor shield;

Fly! I will grant thee time."

Can neither fly nor yield!"

"This flag

They girt the standard round about,
A wall of flashing steel;

But still they heard the battle-cry,

"Olea for Castile!"

And there, against all Aragon,

Full-arm'd with lance and brand,

Olea fought until the sword

Snapp'd in his sturdy hand.

Among the foe with that high scorn
Which laughs at earthly fears,
He hurl'd the broken hilt, and drew
His dagger on the spears.

They hew'd the hauberk from his breast,
The helmet from his head;

They hew'd the hands from off his limbs;
From every vein he bled.

Clasping the standard to his heart,
He raised one dying peal,

O, THE long and dreary Winter! O, the cold and cruel Winter! Ever thicker, thicker, thicker Froze the ice on lake and river; Ever deeper, deeper, deeper Fell the snow o'er all the landscape, Fell the covering snow, and drifted Through the forest, round the village. Hardly from his buried wigwam Could the hunter force a passage ; With his mittens and his snow-shoes Vainly walk'd he through the forest, Sought for bird or beast and found none, Saw no track of deer or rabbit, In the snow beheld no footprints, In the ghastly, gleaming forest Fell, and could not rise from weakness, Perish'd there from cold and hunger.