The Sire de Ternant fell beneath him. Everyone thought him killed; but he quickly arose, raised his horse, and remounted, neither seeming much the worse. He then stretched his hand to draw his sword, but in the contest his girdle had partially given way, and the sword hung on the wrong side. Unable to get hold of it, he took the bridle in his right hand, and, opposing the gauntlet of his other hand to the sword of the Signor Galeotto, endeavoured to seize the blade. At length, however, his girdle broke entirely, and the sword fell upon the sand. According to the rules of the lists, he was allowed to pick it up, and the combat was renewed upon more equal terms. After many blows the Sire de Ternant pressed his adversary very closely, and endeavoured to insert the point of his sword into the joints of the armour at the wrist-at the bend of the arm-under the shoulder-at the jointure of the cuirass and helmet: sometimes his sword seemed to enter, but it was all in vain; the armour was so splendidly tempered and jointed that it preserved the Italian safe from all wounds. After a long combat the judge gave the signal to cease. It had been a long time since such a fine combat had been scen. The two champions embraced each other by command of the Duke, who made the Signor Galeotto dine at his table, and bestowed on both of them magnificent gifts. Helios Hyperionides. serenas ELIOS all day long his allotted labour pursues; From the moment when roseate-finger'd Eos kindles the dews And spurns the salt sea-floors, ascending the silvery heaven, Until from the hand of Eos Hesperos, trembling, receives His fragrant lamp, and faint in the twilight hangs it up. Then the over-wearied son of Hyperion lightly leaves His dusty chariot, and softly slips into his golden cup: And to holy Æthiopia, under the ocean-stream, Back from the sunken retreats of the sweet Hesperides, Leaving his unloved labour, leaving his unyoked team, He sails to his much-loved wife; and stretches his limbs at ease In a laurell'd lawn divine, on a bed of beaten gold, Where he pleasantly sleeps, forgetting his travel by lands and seas, Till again the clear-eyed Eos comes with a finger cold, And again, from his white wife sever'd, Hyperionides Leaps into his flaring chariot, angrily gathers the reins, Headlong flings his course thro' Uranos, much in wrath, And over the seas and mountains, over the rivers and plains, Chafed at heart, tumultuous, pushes his burning path. OWEN MEREdith. Tout ou Rien Σοὶ δ ̓ ἔγωγε καὶ νοσοῦντι συννοσοῦσ ̓ ανέξομαι EURIP. Fragmenta. HOUGH sorrow's darkest clouds descending, Oh, let me on thy steps attending, The frowns of fate, the threats of danger Were more than welcome, dared for thee; In vain on me their proudest treasure My sole fond hope, my only pleasure HELEN LOWE. The Birth of a Free Nation. BY HARRIET MARTINEAU. T is a rare thing for any generation to witness the spectacle of civilization arising, complete and healthy, out of barbarism, within the memory of living persons. Such a spectacle is before the world now; and nothing that is going on elsewhere should render the world careless of the merits, or indifferent to the fate of Hayti. On a mild day, early in December, 1492, Columbus was on deck, after leaving Cuba, when he caught sight of a magnificent mountain outline, on the south-eastern horizon. He made sail towards it, and by the next morning was disposed to believe the land before him to be the most beautiful he had yet seen in the New World. Rocky peaks, which seemed dyed in sky colours, sprang from dense tropical forests; and other mountains rose to a great height so gradually, and were so verdant, that the Spaniards were confident that the plough could be driven up to their very summits; a feat which they |