« AnkstesnisTęsti »
their horses between them, and reminded them that the laws of the tournament did not, on the present occasion, permit this species of encounter.
"We shall meet again, I trust," said the Templar, casting a resentful glance at his antagonist; "and where there are none to separate us!"-"If we do not," said the Disinherited Knight, "the fault shall not be mine. On foot or horseback, with spear, with axe, or with sword, I am alike ready to encounter thee." More and angrier words would have been exchanged, but the marshals, crossing their lances betwixt them, compelled them to separate. The Disinherited Knight returned to his first station, and BoisGuilbert to his tent, where he remained for the rest of the day, in an agony of despair.
Without alighting from his horse, the conqueror called for a bowl of wine, and opening the beaver, or lower part of his helmet, announced that he quaffed it "To all true English hearts, and to the confusion of foreign tyrants." He then commanded his trumpet to sound a defiance to the challengers, and desired a herald to announce to them that he should make no election, but was willing to encounter them in the order in which they pleased to advance against him.
The gigantic Front-de-Boeuf, armed in sable armour, was the first who took the field. He bore on a white shield a black bull's head, half defaced by the numerous encounters which he had undergone, and bearing the arrogant motto, Cave, Adsum.* Over this champion the Disinherited Knight obtained a slight but decisive advantage. Both champions broke their lances fairly; but Front-de-Boeuf, who lost a stirrup in the encounter, was adjudged to have the disadvantage.
In the stranger's third encounter, with Sir Philip Malvoisin, he was equally successful; striking that baron so forcibly on the casque, that the laces of the helmet broke, and Malvoisin-only saved from falling by being unhelmed-was declared vanquished, like his companions.
In his fourth encounter, with De Grantmesnil, the Disinherited Knight showed as much courtesy as he had hitherto evinced courage and dexterity. De Grantmesnil's horse, which was young and violent, reared and plunged in the course of the career so as to disturb the rider's aim; and the stranger, declining to take the advantage which this accident afforded him, raised the lance, and passing his antagonist without touching him, wheeled his horse and rode again to his own end of the lists, offering his antagonist, by a herald, the chance of a second encounter.
This De Grantmesnil declined, avowing himself vanquished as much by the courtesy as by the address of his opponent. Ralph de Vipont summed up the list of the stranger's triumphs, being hurled to the ground with such force that the blood gushed from his nose and his mouth, and he was borne senseless from the lists. The
"Take care,-I am here!"
acclamations of thousands applauded the unanimous award of the prince and marshals, announcing that day's honours to the Disinherited Knight.
THE younger of that name, was born 1733, and died 1794, highly celebrated as a wit and a dramatist.
Who has e'er been in London, that overgrown place,
He entered his rooms, and to bed he retreated;
In six months his acquaintance began much to doubt him;
"I have lost many pounds-make me well-there's a guinea.”
Quoth the landlord, “Till now, I ne'er had a dispute;
In that excellent bed died three people of fashion.
Why so crusty, good sir ?"—" Zounds!" cries Will, in a taking, "Who wouldn't be crusty, with half a year's baking?"
Will paid for his rooms; cried the host, with a sneer, "Well, I see you've been going away half a year." "Friend, we can't well agree; yet no quarrel," Will said; "But I'd rather not perish while you make your bread."
Ode on a distant Prospect of Eton College.
BORN in London, 1716; educated at Eton College; and distinguished both as a scholar and a poet. He died in 1771.
Ah, happy hills! ah, pleasing shade!
As, waving fresh their gladsome wing,
Where once my careless childhood stray'd,
I feel the gales, that from ye blow,
While some, on earnest business bent,
'Gainst graver hours, that bring constraint, To sweeten liberty:
Some bold adventurers disdain
And unknown regions dare descry:
And snatch a fearful joy.
Alas! regardless of their doom,
These shall the fury Passions tear,
And Shame that skulks behind:
That inly gnaws the secret heart,
And Sorrow's piercing dart.
The stings of Falsehood those shall try,
That mocks the tear it forced to flow; And keen Remorse with blood defiled, And moody Madness laughing wild Amid severest woe.