came to him with a pang, and suddenly awoke him from his dream of bliss. Xarisa saw his altered looks, and heard with alarm his stifled sighs; but her countenance brightened, when she heard the cause. 'Let not thy spirit be cast down,' said she, throwing her white arms around him. I have the keys of my father's treasures; send ransom more than enough to satisfy the Christian, and remain with me.'

No,' said Abendaraez, 'I have given my word to return in person, and like a true knight, must fulfil my promise. After that, for

tune must do with me as it pleases.'

Then,' said Xarisa, 'I will accompany thee. Never shall you return a prisoner, and I remain at liberty.'

The Abencerrage was transported with joy at this new proof of devotion in his beautiful bride. All preparations were speedily made for their departure. Xarisa mounted behind the Moor, on his powerful steed; they left the castle walls before day-break, nor did they pause, until they arrived at the gate of the castle of Allora, which was flung wide to receive them.

Alighting in the court, the Abencerrage supported the steps of his trembling bride, who remained closely veiled, into the presence of Rodrigo de Narvaez. 'Behold, valiant Alcayde!' said he, 'the way in which an Abencerrage keeps his word. I promised to return to thee a prisoner, but I deliver two captives into your power. Behold Xarisa, and judge whether I grieved without reason, over the loss of such a treasure. Receive us as your own, for I confide my life and her honor to your hands.'

The Alcayde was lost in admiration of the beauty of the lady, and the noble spirit of the Moor. 'I know not,' said he, 'which of you surpasses the other; but I know that my castle is graced and honored by your presence. Enter into it, and consider it your own, while you deign to reside with me.'

For several days, the lovers remained at Allora, happy in each other's love, and in the friendship of the brave Alcayde. The latter wrote a letter, full of courtesy, to the Moorish king of Granada, relating the whole event, extolling the valor and good faith of the Abencerrage, and craving for him the royal countenance.

The king was moved by the story, and was pleased with an opportunity of showing attention to the wishes of a gallant and chivalrous enemy; for though he had often suffered from the prowess of Don Rodrigo de Narvaez, he admired the heroic character he had gained throughout the land. Calling the Alcayde of Coyn into his presence, he gave him the letter to read. The Alcayde turned pale, and trembled with rage, on the perusal. Restrain thine anger,' said the king; there is nothing that the Alcayde of Allora could ask, that I would not grant, if in my power. Go thou to Allora; pardon thy children; take them to thy home. I receive this Abencerrage into my favor, and it will be my delight to heap benefits upon you all.'

The kindling ire of the Alcayde was suddenly appeased. He hastened to Allora; and folded his children to his bosom, who would have fallen at his feet. The gallant Rodrigo de Narvaez gave liberty to his prisoner without ransom, demanding merely a promise of his friendship. He accompanied the youthful couple and their father

to Coyn, where their nuptials were celebrated with great rejoicings. When the festivities were over, Don Rodrigo de Narvaez returned to his fortress of Allora.

After his departure, the Alcayde of Coyn addressed his children: To your hands,' said he, 'I confide the disposition of my wealth. One of the first things I charge you, is not to forget the ransom you owe to the Alcayde of Allora. His magnanimity you can never repay, but you can prevent it from wronging him of his just dues. Give him, moreover, your entire friendship, for he merits it fully, though of a different faith.'

The Abencerrage thanked him for his generous proposition, which so truly accorded with his own wishes. He took a large sum of gold, and enclosed it in a rich coffer; and, on his own part, sent six beautiful horses, superbly caparisoned; with six shields and lances, mounted and embossed with gold. The beautiful Xarisa, at the same time, wrote a letter to the Alcayde, filled with expressions of gratitude and friendship, and sent him a box of fragrant cypress wood, containing linen, of the finest quality, for his person. The valiant Alcayde disposed of the present in a characteristic manner. The horses and armor he shared among the cavaliers who had accompanied him on the night of the skirmish. The box of cypress wood and its contents he retained, for the sake of the beautiful Xarisa; and sent her, by the hands of the messenger, the sum of gold paid as a ransom, entreating her to receive it as a wedding present. This courtesy and magnanimity raised the character of the Alcayde Rodrigo de Narvaez still higher in the estimation of the Moors, who extolled him as a perfect mirror of chivalric virtue; and from that time forward, there was a continual exchange of good offices between them.

LORD BYRON.

BY REY. WALTER COLTON, UNITED STATES' NAVY.

A LETTER FROM STURZ: NOW FIRST TRANSLATED FROM THE GERMAN.

'London, August 24th, 1768.

I LEFT this city early yesterday morning, accompanied by Murphy, the dramatist, on a visit to the country seat of Mr. Garrick, where I have passed one of the happiest days of my life.

It was a most voluptuous summer morning. A light transparent vapor, such as we see in the landscapes of Claude, trembled over the fields, and the face of nature was improved by the veil. I felt as if I were borne upon ether. Every thing around me was smiling in delight. Such joyful feelings of existence are enough to banish all the sophisms touching the predominance of ill in this good world.

The dwelling of Garrick is a little palace, of beautiful proportions. It stands upon the bank of the Thames, which here winds through richly-settled and elaborately-ornamented grounds. His garden, as it is called, is but a plat of clean and verdant turf, scattered about which, without regard to symmetry, is a variety of shrubbery and trees. Near the water, stands that British sanctuary, the Temple of Shakspeare. The statue of the Immortal is of white marble, in life size. In the expression which the artist has given him, he seems transported among the scenes he has himself created, and to be listening to the song of Ariel.

There is little style or pretension in the interior of Garrick's dwelling; but a serene, noble simplicity pervades the apartments.

Here and there are to be seen objects which mark the peculiar genius, and sometimes the humor, of the possessor. The tapestry is all of light, soft, and agreeable colors, hung with excellent pictures of the most renowned actors and actresses, taken en rôle. Here are the four celebrated originals, by Hogarth, entitled 'The Election.' A fifth, by the same master, is yet more remarkable. It was intended as the first of a series of four paintings, to represent The Happy Marriage,' which was to have been a counterpart to his renowned 'Marriage à la mode;' but whether nature was deficient in models for this subject, or the artist in invention, I do not know. Only one of the pictures is commenced, and in this, the head of the bride is alone completed. Hogarth here shows himself to be a skilful painter of beauty. A more soft, lovely, and altogether attractive countenance, has seldom been produced. I also saw Garrick's portrait, by our country-woman, Angelica Kaufmann, painted in gray; and another on China, copied from Reynolds, in which Garrick appears as a disguised Chinese. While among the productions of art, I must not neglect to speak of a small box, made from the sacred mulberry tree, in the shade of which Shakspeare was wont to repose. This relic is exhibited with the most devout emotion.

But you desire to hear something of the man and of the actor. I shall not speak to day, and perhaps never; for Professor Lichtenberg has said all that can be said on this subject. You are already aware that Garrick is a handsome man. It is true, he is not a demi-god in person, being a little below medium size; and he wants about a pied du Roi, to realize the ideal forms of the Greek and Roman heroes, or what the French term, the 'high tragic stature.' Yet his figure is neat and comely; full, without being fat; firm and nervous. When he speaks, his whole body is animated, and every play of his muscles, every external movement, accords admirably with the inward emotions. I think I have never seen so expressive a face, or limbs which seemed more fully and gracefully to participate in his theme. While Previllon was once enacting the part of a drunkard, to an admiring audience, Garrick cried out to him,' Your feet are sober!'

You observe, at first sight, that gayety, raillery, and hence comedy, are natural to Garrick. A keen humor, a satirical Hudibrastic archness, flashes from his eyes; yet as it is always united with great hilarity of feeling, it rather attracts than repels. You may imagine what entire control, and what creative power, he must possess over his physiognomy, to hide so completely such original stamps of nature, when in his great tragic characters; and still you must fall short in your conceptions, unless you know the man, and then see him as Lear, in the storm-scene, or his hell-visage in the battle scene of Richard.

Garrick associates with the first of the land, and is much honored and beloved by them. Fortunately for his friends, he has not contracted that tone of the haut société which fetters, by conventional laws, the freedom and the glad impulses of nature. This noble tree could not be transformed into a clipped garden hedge. He allows free play to his humor, and believes that mirth and heart-felt laughter form the grand elixir of life. The character of his wit is

shown in his epilogues and prologues, which abound in facetious contrasts, pleasing equivoques, jeu-de-mots, and apt quotations from the ancient and modern dramatists, or from his favorite poet, Horace. The

qualities of his heart you may best learn from his epistolary correspondence with his friends, where a light, flowing style is the vehicle of the most noble feelings. He is prolific in anecdotes, and acts what he relates; frequently converting mere bagatelles into dramas. The features and voice of others are accurately reflected in his own. Here, too, we see something of that language of action, which is so true to nature, and so effective, in his great tragic personations. I recently beheld the power of this silent language, in the daggerscene of Macbeth. A gentleman who was in my company at the theatre, wholly unacquainted with the English language, fell horrorstricken and senseless upon the floor, while Garrick was clutching the 'air drawn-dagger of the mind.'

MEMORIALS are ye, of time passed away!
Vain words, kind records, echoes mid decay:
Crest and device, and proud emblazoned seal,
Emblem and motto, what doth each reveal?

Behold! A leaf: 'I only change in death!'
No amaranth wert thou, in friendship's wreath,
Fairest Adele! - false gem in beauty set!
Leaf born to wither-doomed to unregret!

Lo, here! The shears: 'We part to meet again.'
Atropos fell hath clipped thy thread in twain,
Peerless Leona! rose of purity!

Death to his garland sad hath gathered thee!

An altar fire, and cross, revered for aye;
The motto 'L'amour et la verite.'

Fair seeming words, and fairer seeming token;
Flame, quenched in Lethe!

cross, too rudely broken!

A lantern, here, and 'Brighter hours will come :'
Thou hast gone down in shadow to the tomb,
O friend beloved! Green leaves are on the trees,
The summer wind plays lightly in the bough;
But thee the green leaf glads not, nor the breeze;
Seeking for light! for light! beyond the skies,
Thou hast passed on in hope, but even now,
E'en to the glorious gate of paradise!

The turbaned Moor, borne by our house's line,
By one who dwells in eastern lands afar,
And one, who, tossed upon the foaming brine,
Steers his lone bark by yonder radiant star;
Ye, lingerers long!- thou, 'neath a burning sky,
Thou, where the storm-vexed waters onward sweep;

Oh! be a sister's love the beacon high,

To point ye homeward o'er the pathless deep!

A cypher here, on a fair field impressed;

God of the orphan! Thou hast spared, and blessed

My mother! Nay, why count that friends are flown,

While ye, the true, are left? ye, and the dead! mine own!