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For now I see the true old times are dead,
When every morning brought a noble chance,
And every chance brought out a noble knight.
Such times have been not since the light that led
The holy Elders with the gift of myrrh.

But now the whole Round Table is dissolved
Which was an image of the mighty world;
And I, the last, go forth companionless,
And the days darken round me, and the years,
Among new men, strange faces, other minds."

And slowly answered Arthur from the barge :
"The old order changeth, yielding place to new,
And God fulfils himself in many ways,
Lest one good custom should corrupt the world.
Comfort thyself: what comfort is in me?

I have lived my life, and that which I have done
May He within himself make pure! but thou,
If thou shouldst never see my face again,
Pray for my soul. More things are wrought by

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Rise like a fountain for me night and day.
For what are men better than sheep or goats
That nourish a blind life within the brain,
If, knowing God, they lift not hands of prayer

The fourth week was beginning, the third already past,

The Cid and his companions they are now agreed at last.

"The water is cut off, the bread is wellnigh spent,

To allow us to depart by night the Moors will not consent;

To combat with them in the field our numbers are but few;

Gentlemen, tell me your minds; what do you think to do?"

Minaya Alvar Fañez answered him again :

"We are come here from fair Castile to live like banished men ;

There are here six hundred of us, beside some nine or ten.

It is by fighting with the Moors that we have earned our bread;

In the name of God that made us, let nothing more be said,

Let us sally forth upon them by the dawn of day."

The Cid replied, "Minaya, I approve of what

you say,

You have spoken for the best, and had done so without doubt."

Both for themselves and those who call them The Moors that were within the town they took

friend?

For so the whole round earth is every way
Bound by gold chains about the feet of God.
But now farewell. I am going a long way
With these thou seest, - if indeed I go
(For all my mind is clouded with a doubt) —
To the island-valley of Avilion ;
Where falls not hail, or rain, or any snow,
Nor ever wind blows loudly; but it lies
Deep-meadowed, happy, fair with orchard-lawns
And bowery hollows crowned with summer sea,
Where I will heal me of my grievous wound."

So said he, and the barge with oar and sail Moved from the brink, like some full-breasted

swan,

That, fluting a wild carol ere her death,
Ruffles her pure cold plume, and takes the flood
With swarthy webs. Long stood Sir Bedivere
Revolving many memories, till the hull
Looked one black dot against the verge of dawn,
And on the mere the wailing died away.

ALFRED TENNYSON.

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The gates were then thrown open, and forth at once they rushed.

THE SALLY OF THE CID FROM THE The outposts of the Moorish host back to the

CASTLE OF ALCOCES.

FROM "THE POEM OF THE CID."

THEY fain would sally forth, but he, the noble Cid, Accounted it as rashness, and constantly forbid.

camp were pushed ;

The camp was all in tumult, and there was such

a thunder

Of cymbals and of drums, as if earth would cleave in sunder.

i

There you might see the Moors arming them- | And many a Moorish shield lie shattered on the selves in haste, plain, And the two main battles how they were forming The pennons that were white marked with a fast; crimson stain, Horsemen and footmen mixt, a countless troop The horses running wild whose riders had been and vast. slain.

The Moors are moving forward, the battle soon | The Christians call upon St. James, the Moors

must join.

"My men, stand here in order, ranged upon a line! Let not a man move from his rank before I give the sign."

upon Mahound,

There were thirteen hundred of them slain on a little spot of ground.

fight;

Minaya Alvar Fañez smote with all his might, Pero Bermuez heard the word, but he could not He went as he was wont, and was foremost in the refrain. He held the banner in his hand, he gave his There was Galin Garcia, of courage firm and horse the rein; clear;

"You see yon foremost squadron there, the Felez Munioz, the Cid's own cousin dear; Antolinez of Burgos, a hardy knight and keen,

thickest of the foes,

Noble Cid, God be your aid, for there your banner Munio Gustioz, his pupil that had been ;

goes!

Let him that serves and honors it show the duty that he owes."

Earnestly the Cid called out, "For Heaven's sake, be still!"

The Cid on his gilded saddle above them all was

seen;

There was Martin Munioz that ruled in Mont

mayor;

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There were Alvar Fañez and Alvar Salvador; Bermuez cried, "I cannot hold," so eager was his These were the followers of the Cid, with many will. others more, He spurred his horse and drove him on amid the In rescue of Bermuez and the standard that he Moorish rout; bore.

They strove to win the banner, and compast him Minaya is dismounted, his courser has been slain, He fights upon his feet, and smites with might

about;

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them again;

and main.

The Cid came all in haste to help him to horse again. He saw a Moor well mounted, thereof he was full fain;

Through the girdle at a stroke he cast him to the plain;

He called to Minaya Fañez and reached him out the

rein,

"Mount and ride, Minaya, you are my right hand; We shall have need of you to-day, these Moors

will not disband!"

Minaya leapt upon the horse, his sword was in his hand,

Nothing that came near him could resist him or withstand;

All that fall within his reach he despatches as he goes.

The Cid rode to King Fariz, and struck at him three blows;

The third was far the best, it forced the blood to flow:

The

stream ran from his side, and stained his arms below;

The King caught round the rein, and turned his back to go.

There you might see the breastplates, how they The Cid has won the battle with that single blow.

were cleft in twain,

By an anonymous translator in the appendix to SOUTHEY'S translation of " The Chronicle of the Cid."

The mother who conceals her grief. While to her breast hu son she

Then breathes

presses,

few brave words and Brief, Kissing the painot brow she blesses,

With

but her secret god,

To know the pain that weighs upon her,

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POEMS OF TEMPERANCE AND LABOR.

Ide steadfast level that leben werd fro

Believe me stile, as I have ever been

My
Thy

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of

cruce the with that all.

Fnce and by blood redeemed but but by cruced;
Each fetter broken, but in God's own time!'

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