218 BERNARDO DEL CARPIO. "Now haste, Bernardo, haste! for there, In very truth, is he, The father whom thy faithful heart Hath yearned so long to see." His dark eye flashed, his proud breast heaved, He reached that gray-haired chieftain's side, A lowly knee to earth he bent, His father's hand he took ; What was there in its touch that all That hand was cold,—a frozen thing,— A plume waved o'er the noble brow,- Up from the ground he sprang, and gazed; They hushed their very hearts that saw They might have chained him, as before For the power was stricken from his arm, Then, starting suddenly, he rushed And seized the monarch's rein, Amid the pale and wildered looks And with a fierce, o'ermastering grasp, The rearing war-horse led, And sternly set them face to face, The king before the dead! Be still, and gaze thou on, false king! And tell me what is this! The voice, the glance, the heart I sought,-~ If thou wouldst clear thy perjured soul, "Into these glassy eyes put light,— Give me back him for whom I strove, His dust be mountains on thy head!" Upon his horse Bernardo sprang, Defiance in his look; Then at the pale and trembling king And ere, of all that arm'ed train, "I shall return!" Bernardo cried- With some good ten of his chosen men, Before them all, in the palace hall, The lying king to beard; With cap in hand and eye on ground, He came in reverend guise; But ever and anon he frowned, And flame broke from his eyes. "And dar'st thou, caitiff," cries the king, But what from traitor's blood should spring, 219 220 BERNARDO DEL CARPIO. His sire, lords, had a traitor's heart,- "Whoever told this tale the king, Cries Bernard; "here my gage I fling No treason was in Sancho's blood,— Below the throne, what knight will own "Your horse was down,-your hope was I saw the falchion shine, That soon had drunk your royal blood, Had I not ventured mine; But memory soon of service done Deserteth the in-grate'; You've thanked the son for life and crown By the father's bloody fate. "You swore upon your kingly faith To set Don Sancho free; But (out upon your paltering breath!) He died in dungeon cold and dim, "The king that swerveth from his word But noble vengeance shall be mine,- The king hath iniured Carpio's line. BERNARDO DEL CARPIO. "Seize seize him!" loud the king doth scream; "There are a thousand here; Let his foul blood this instant stream; What! caitiffs, do ye fear? Seize seize the traitor!" But not one To move a finger dareth: Bernardo standeth by the throne, And calm his sword he bareth. He drew the falchion from the sheath, And all the hall was still as death: And here's the sword that owns no lord, Fain would I know who dares its point,- Then to his mouth his horn he drew; (It hung below his cloak ;) His ten true men the signal knew, And through the ring they broke. "Ha! Bernard," quoth Alfonzo, Ye know full well I jested ; Ye know your worth I prize!" 221 PA-CHA' (pa-shaw'), n., a governor of CRES'CENT, n., the figure of the new a Turkish province. moon, as borne in the Turkish flag. IS'LAM (iz-), n., the body of Mahom-RE-HEAR ́SAL (-her-), n., repetition; etan believers. OTTO-MAN, a., Turkish. recital. CA-THE'DRAL, n., the principal church in a bishop's see. JAN'I-ZA-RY, n., a soldier of the Turk- RIT'U-AL, n., ceremonial. AT'A-BAL, n., a kettle-drum. ish foot-guards. IN-VET'ER-ATE, a., old; deep-rooted. COM-PACT', a., close; solid. MYR'I-AD, n., ten thousand. A. D. stands for an'no dom'i-ni, Latin for in the year of the Lord; St. for SaintPronounce Constantine, Kon'stan-teen; Sophia, So-fè'a; a in Ga-la-ta' as in far. 1. THE attacks which, during successive centuries, the walls of Constantinople had sustained, were but the rehearsal of the tragedy in store. That power, which, as early as the year 668, had appeared in arms before them, had continued century after century to watch for their downfall. The might of Islam burned to fling itself upon the ancient Christian capital, and was resolved to hang about its neck until one or the other had perished. In that wonderful career of success which had attended it within but a few years of the prophet's* death, the capture of Constantinople had been its highest aspiration. That aspiration was never lost sight of; for instinctively and inveterately the Crescent hated the Cross. 2. The fatal hour had at last arrived. On the sixth of April, 1453, Ma'homet II. planted his standard before the gate of St. Roma'nus, and commenced that siege which ended in the loss to Christendom of what had for so many centuries been revered as her eastern metrop'olis. One thing alone, it is probable, could have averted that calamity. Had it been possible to heal * Mohammed, the so-called prophet, founder of the Mohammedan religion. |