IVANHOE, a wounded knight, and Rebecca, a Jewess, had been imprisoned in the castle of Reginald Front de Boeuf. The friends of the prisoners undertake their rescue. At the request of Ivanhoe, who is unable to leave his couch, Rebecca takes her stand near a window overlooking the approach to the castle, and details to the knight the incidents of the contest, as they take place. Front de Boeuf and his garrison were Normans; the besiegers, Saxons.

Barbacan, an outer defense, or fortification, used as a watch tower. 1. THE skirts of the wood seem lined with archers, although only a few are advanced from its dark shadow. "Under what banner?" asked Ivanhoe. "Under no ensign which I can observe," answered Rebecca. "A singular novelty," muttered the knight, "to advance to storm such a castle without pennon or banner displayed. Seest thou who they be, that act as leaders?" "A knight clad in sable armor is the most conspicuous," said the Jewess: "he alone is armed from head to heel, and seems to assume the direction of all around him."

2. "Seem there no other leaders?" exclaimed the anxious inquirer. "None of mark and distinction that I can behold from this station," said Rebecca, "but doubtless the other side of the castle is also assailed. They seem, even now, preparing to advance. God of Zion protect us! What a dreadful sight! Those, who advance first, bear huge shields and defenses made of plank: the others follow, bending their bows as they come on. They raise their bows! God of Moses, forgive the creatures thou hast made !"

3. Her description was here suddenly interrupted by the signal for assault, which was given by the blast of a shrill bugle, and at once answered by a flourish of the Norman trumpets from the battlements, which, mingled with the deep and hollow clang of the kettle-drums, retorted in notes of defiance, the challenge of the enemy. The shouts of both parties augmented the fearful din, the assailants crying, "Saint George, for merry England!" and the Normans answering them with loud cries of "Onward, De Bracy! Front de Boeuf, to the rescue!"

4. "And I must lie here, like a bed-ridden monk," exclaimed Ivanhoe, "while the game, that gives me freedom or death, is played out by the hand of others! Look from the window once again, kind maiden, and tell me if they yet advance to the storm." With patient courage, strengthened by the interval which she had employed in mental devotion, Rebecca again took post at the lattice, sheltering herself, however, so as not to be exposed to the arrows of the archers. "What dost thou see, Rebecca?" again demanded the wounded knight. "Nothing but the cloud of arrows flying so thick as to dazzle mine eyes, and to hide the bowmen who shoot them." "That can not endure," said Ivanhoe. they press not right on, to carry the castle by force of arms, the archery may avail but little against stone walls and bulwarks. Look for the knight in dark armor, fair Rebecca, and see how he bears himself; for as the leader is, so will his followers be."

"If

5. "I see him not," said Rebecca. "Foul craven!" exclaimed Ivanhoe; "does he blench from the helm, when the wind blows highest?" "He blenches not! he blenches not!" said Rebecca; "I see him now: he leads a body of men close under the outer barrier of the barbacan. They pull down the piles and palisades; they hew down the barriers with axes. His high, black plume floats abroad over the throng, like a raven over the field of the slain. They have made a breach in the barriers, they rush in, they are thrust back! Front de Boeuf heads the defenders. I see his gigantic form above the press. They throng again to the breach, and the pass is disputed, hand to hand, and man to man. God of Jacob! it is the meeting of two fierce tides, the conflict of two oceans moved by adverse winds:" and she turned her head from the window, as if unable longer to endure a sight so terrible.

6. Speedily recovering her self-control, Rebecca again looked forth, and almost immediately exclaimed, "Holy prophets of the law! Front de Boeuf and the Black Knight fight hand to hand on the breach, amid the roar of their followers, who watch the progress of the strife. Heaven strike with the cause of the oppressed and of the captive!" She then uttered a loud shriek, and exclaimed, "He is down!

he is down!"

"Who is down?" cried Ivanhoe; "for our dear Lady's sake, tell me which has fallen!" "The Black Knight," answered Rebecca, faintly; then instantly again shouted with joyful eagerness-"But no! but no! the name of the Lord of Hosts be blessed! he is on foot again, and fights as if there were twenty men's strength in his single. arm-his sword is broken-he snatches an ax from a yeoman- -he presses Front de Boeuf, blow on blow-the giant stoops and totters like an oak under the steel of the woodman-he falls-he falls!" Front de Boeuf?" exclaimed Ivanhoe. "Front de Boeuf," answered the Jewess; "his men rush to the rescue, headed by the haughty Templar,their united force compels the champion to pause-they drag Front de Boeuf within the walls."

7. The assilants have won the barriers, have they not?" said Ivanhoe. "They have-they have,-and they press the besieged hard, upon the outer wall; some plant ladders, some swarm like bees, and endeavor to ascend upon the shoulders of each other; down go stones, beams, and trunks of trees upon their heads, and as fast as they bear the wounded to the rear, fresh men supply their places in the assault. Great God! hast thou given men thine own image, that it should be thus cruelly defaced by the hands of their brethren!"Think not of that," replied Ivanhoe; "this is no time for such thoughts. Who yield? Who push their way?"

8. "The ladders are thrown down," replied Rebecca, shuddering; "the soldiers lie groveling under them like crushed reptiles; the besieged have the better." "Saint George strike for us!" said the knight, "do the false yeomen give way?" "No," exclaimed Rebecca, "they bear themselves. right yeomanly; the Black Knight approaches the postern with his huge ax; the thundering blows which he deals, you may hear them above all the din and shouts of the battle; stones and beams are hailed down on the brave champion; he regards them no more than if they were thistle-down and feathers."

9. "St. John of Acre!" said Ivanhoe, raising himself joyfully on his couch, "methought there was but one man in England that might do such a deed." "The postern gate shakes," continued Rebecca; "it crashes-it is splintered by

his powerful blows-they rush in-the out-work is won-oh God! they hurry the defenders from the battlements-they throw them into the moat-O men, if ye be indeed men, spare them that can resist no longer! "The bridge-the bridge which communicates with the castle-have they won that pass?" exclaimed Ivanhoe. "No," replied Rebecca; "the Templar has destroyed the plank on which they crossed -few of the defenders escaped with him into the castle-the shrieks and cries which you hear, tell the fate of the others. Alas! I see that it is still more difficult to look upon victory than upon battle."

10. "What do they now, maiden?" said Ivanhoe; "look forth yet again, this is no time to faint at bloodshed.” “It is over, for a time," said Rebecca; "our friends strengthen themselves within the out-work which they have mastered." "Our friends," said Invahoe, "will surely not abandon an enterprise so gloriously begun, and so happily attained; O no! I will put my faith in the good knight, whose ax has rent heart-ofoak, and bars of iron. Singular," he again muttered to himself, "if there can be two who are capable of such achivements. It is, it must be Richard COEUR de Lion."

11. "Seest thou nothing else, Rebecca, by which the Black Knight may be distinguished?" "Nothing," said the Jewess, "all about him is as black as the wing of the night-raven. Nothing can I spy that can mark him further; but having once seen him put forth his strength in battle, methinks I could know him again among a thousand warriors. He rushes to the fray, as if he were summoned to a banquet. There is more than mere strength; it seems as if the whole soul and spirit of the champion, were given to every blow which he deals upon his enemies. God forgive him the sin of bloodshed! it is fearful, yet magnificent to behold, how the arm and heart of one man can triumph over hundreds."

LVI. DESCRIPTION OF A STORM AT SEA.

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FROM CARRINGTON.

1. THE evening winds shriek'd wildly: the dark cloud
Rested upon the horizon's hem, and grew
Mightier and mightier, flinging its black arch
Around the troubled offing, till it grasp'd
Within its terrible embrace, the all
That eye could see of ocean. There arose,
Forth from the infinite of waters, sounds
Confused, appalling; from the dread lee-shore
There came a heavier swell, a lengthen'd roar,
Each moment deeper, rolling on the ear

2.

3.

With most portentous voice. Rock howl'd to rock,
Headland to headland, as the Atlantic flung
Its billows shoreward; and the feathery foam
Of twice ten thousand broken surges, sail'd
High o'er the dim-seen land. The startled gull,
With scream prophetic, sought his savage cliff,
And e'en the bird that loves to sail between
The ridges of the sea, with hurried wing,
Flew from the blast's fierce onset.

One-far off,—

One hapless ship was seen upon the deep,
Breasting the western waters. Nothing liv'd
Around her; all was desert; for the storm

Had made old ocean's realm a solitude,
Where man might fear to roam. And there she sat,
A lonely thing amid the gathering strife,

With pinions folded—not for rest,-prepared
To struggle with the tempest.

And it came,

As night abruptly closed; nor moon nor star
Look'd from the sky, but darkness deep as that
Which reign'd over primeval chaos, wrapp'd
That fated bark, save when the lightning hiss'd
Along the bursting billow. Ocean howl'd
To the high thunder, and the thunder spoke
To the rebellious ocean, with a voice

So terrible, that all the rush and roar
Of waves were but as the meek lapse of rills,
To that deep, everlasting peal, which comes
From thee, Niagara, wild flinging o'er
Thy steep the waters of a world.