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Walter of Aquitaine.

13 ers versed in the proceedings it describes, may have made this a very agreeable part of the poem. The delineation is strong and characteristic; and to the student of the manners and spirit of ancient times, it will prove even interesting. The recital of the names and conditions, as far as these are declared, of the said knights, will probably satisfy the curiosity of most readers concerning them.

The first is the said Camelo. The next Kimo, a brother's son of Camelo, by some called also Scaramund. The third, Wurhard, a descendant of the ancient Pandarus, who is correctly mentioned by our author as having broken off the treaty of the Trojans and Greeks, by the first arrow-shot. Wurhard, like his great ancestor, excels, and fights, as an archer. The fourth, Ekevrid, is from the Saxon plains. He is taunted by Walter, rather unaccountably, with his Celtic accent, showing him to belong to that race which nature has gifted, above all others, with the talent of jesting. Hadwart follows, a warrior who, from pride of courage, wore no armour. Patavrid, sister's son to Hagano, is the sixth. The combat with him is not without interest. Hagano first, and then Walter, on understanding their relationship, endeavour in vain to dissuade him from the unequal strife. Gerwith, whom Worms honoured as Count of the Wasgau, comes to avenge, and shares his fate. Randolf, the champion, is killed, eighth. Helmnod, otherwise Eleuther, ninth.-(Is this a Greek translation of a German agnoment)-Trogunt and Thanast, the tenth and eleventh, are put to death rather in an intermingled way, and finish this act of the tragedy.

There is, as we have observed, sufficient character and variety in this series of bloody encounters. They are not, to our mind, poetical; but the stern and savage detail gives the temper of times, in which minds, otherwise generous, are hardened by the habitual exertion of their single strength, in conflict with deadly hazards; and the language expresses the earnest sympathy of the poet with men whose passions are engaged to the height in the business they are about. of military matters, it occurs, that Walter bore à painted shield-that the battle-axe of the Franks was two-edged. Helmnod's mode of attack is singular-he launches a three-forked dart at the shield of his antagonist, fastened with a line, at which all that are left alive at the time drag with their united strength, expecting either to pull the warrior over, or to force his shield from him. They effect the last. The self-willed, imprudent, ungovernable temper of Gunther, who, notwithstanding his repeated losses, is still urging the remnant on, is well portrayed.-As are throughout the frank magnanimity and unshaken self-reliance of the heroic Walter-and the courage and artful wisdom of Hagano, the Ulysses of old German romance.

All the eleven being now dead, the King, who had alighted to assist in the last-described operation, mounts his horse and flies to Hagano. A dialogue ensues. To the King's entreaty, that he would undertake the combat, Hagano calmly replies, that he is of too unworthy a race to take part in the noble perils of war; that the blood frozen in h veins robs him of all courage for the fight; that even his father used to shrink back in fear when he looked on weapons, and wii many words, to avoid the challenge of battle, reiterating the King former taunts. The King renews his supplication. His rep tions are so forcibly made, and the sight of his sovereign,

and suppliant, so touching, that shame seizes the breast of the warrior, and he consents to aid the King with his arm and counsel. Refusing positively, however, to attack Walter in his present advantageous position, he proposes to the King that they should draw off, and conceal themselves, while their horses crop the meadow. Walter will suppose them gone, and proceed on his journey. They may then set on him by surprise. This is the only hope left in such an unfortunate business. Then the King, if he is bent upon it, may have fighting as much as he desires; for Walter, he assures him, will not fly before them both. But they will have to fly, or else to fight most gallantly. The King is delighted with his advice; embraces and kisses him; they retire; look out the most convenient place for their ambush, and, securing their horses, leave them to feed.

The fourth canto informs us that Phæbus sunk westward, working his track over the well-known Thule, which leaves behind its back the Scots and the Hiberni. When he had warmed the ocean-flood, and Hesperus had turned his horns towards Ausonia, the prudent hero began to ponder whether he should pass the night in his strong-hold, or trust "himself to the immeasurable plains of the long-stretching desert. Nothing was suspicious to him except Hagano, and the kiss which the King had given him. Had they returned to the town to assemble more companions in the night, and to renew the attack with early morning ? Or were they alone, concealed in some ambush, to lie in wait for him? This appeared doubtful. The unknown ways of the forest also disturbed him, and the apprehension that he might somewhere lose his bride in thickets, or by wild beasts. He concludes at last to wait out the night. “ Let what will befall, King Gunther shall have no cause to say that he fled like a thief by night and mist.” He then throws a hasty defence of boughs and thorns across the narrow way, and, turning towards the bodies—the trunks is the expression, for he had severed every head from the body-with a bitter sob, he muffles up his head, and throwing himself on the earth towards the east, he prays with his sword bared. “Him who made all things, who rules all things, and without whose will nothing comes to pass Him do I thank, that he has guarded me from the merciless weapons and scorn of this hostile swarm. Also, with sorrow, I beseech the mild God, who seeks not so much to destroy the sinner as the sin, that he one day grant me the grace to see them all together in heaven.” It can hardly be otherwise understood than that the Christian poet has here ascribed to his hero a feeling which he did not find in the native story. When he had ended his prayer he stood up, and fastening the six horses that were left for two were slain, and three Gunther had taken with him with cords of well-platted rods, so as to leave them liberty to range in a circle and feed, he ungirds and unarms his body, now reeking from his toil, and with cheerful words comforts his troubled bride. After refreshing himself with food, he lays himself down to rest on his shield, Hiltegund watching him in his first sleep. He slept. The lady sat at the head of her beloved, and watched unwearied. To keep her own slumberous eyes open, she sang. As soon as Walter awoke he stood up, and willed the maiden to take her rest. He himself grasped his spear, undepressed in spirit, on which he leaned. So he passed the remainder of the night. Now he takes a course about his horses. Now he draws unto his rampart, and harks

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and listens, and wishes that light and the shapes of things would return anew to the world. Meantime the herald of the day ascended. from Olympus, and the lightsome Taprobane saw already the glad sun. It was the hour when the earth is bedewed from the cool east, that Walter drew off from the slain, as victor, armour and arms, with their appurtenance. Their shirts of mail, and other pieces, he left to the bodies; only the bracelets, the clasps, the baldrics, and the swords, with helmet and hauberk, he took from them. Four horses he loaded with the spoil; his bride he placed on the fifth ; then mounting the sixth himself, he rode foremost to his barrier, which he had first broken through. In the narrow path he cast his eyes around, and looks intently, and caught with his ear the wind and every breath, if he might hear any one treading or whispering near, or if the bridles or the bits of the haughty ones rang, or if the steeled hoof of the coming horses sounded. But all was silent. Then he let the loaded horses and the beloved maiden go forward with her treasure-and he follows. They had advanced scarce fifty paces, when the maiden, from an impulse of fear, turning round, sees two armed riders descending impetuously a hill; and she calls to the youth to fly. He turns, knows them; and, nothing daunted, directs her to lead the Lion into the near wood, and conceal herself, while he mounts a hillock to await and greet the men who are approaching. She does so. And he, gathering up spear and shield, begins to prove his unknown steed, whether it be manageable to arms. The King, accompanied by the bold warrior, rushes madly towards him; calling aloud, insulting, threatening, and defying him.

To him the warrior answers not: as one that heareth not, he hath turned him from the King unto Hagano. “With thee,” he cries," have

“ I to speak. Hold! what hath changed so suddenly the trusted friend? He who but late at his departing seemed to tear himself so reluctantly from our embrace, falls now in arms upon us, on us who have in nothing ever done him wrong. Something other than this, I own, I had hoped from thee. When thou, methought, shouldst know that it was thy friend who returned from exile, thou wouldst of thy own accord hasten to meet him, greet him with honour, and, unasked, lovingly entertain him as thy guest, till thou shouldst let him depart in peace and safety unto his father's realm. Already did I devise with myself how I should bestow thy gifts, and said inwardly, Now, indeed, must I wander through many unknown regions; yet at the least do 1 fear, if Hagano be living, the hand of no Frank. I adjure thee by all the sports which, as boys, we learnt together, and in delightful unity pursued through our season of youth, whither is the celebrated friendship fled, which went with us in field, at home, which knew never bitterness nor grudge? for thy aspect was cause to me of the forgetting even of my father, and with thee my noble country seemed to me of lesser worth. Is it possible! dost thou in thy soul extinguish that oftplighted faith? O leave from strife and heavy wrong! Wage thou this war no more. To us be our unbroken covenant holy. If thou consent, thou goest hence increased in wealth, for I will fill thy broad shield with the rich red metal.” Then made Hagano ungentle answer.“ First thou usest force, then, Walter, then too late dost thou make pretence with seeming words of wisdom. It was thyself that didst violate our league. Though thou sawest me present, yet with fierce sword thou madest waste among my comrades and my ki

Thou canst never excuse thyself not to have known that I was there, for if thou mightest ill discern my face, yet my arms thou sawest, and from the armour couldst know the man, All else perchance I could have borne, had not one intolerable grief been added. A flower pleasant and beautiful, dear and precious to me; alas! a flower full of hope and promise, thy deadly steel like a scythe mowed down. For this do I accept neither price nor gift. But I will know if courage inhabit with thee. From thee do I require my nephew's blood; and in this place either I die, or obtain renown.”

So saying, he springs from his horse to the ground : Gunther and Walter do the same: all three prepared to fight on foot. Each stood and guarded himself from the coming blow. The heroes' limbs tremble under their shields. It was the second hour of the day when they began to fight; two armed men sworn against one. Some particulars of the fight are given, but by no means sufficient to fill up the whole time of the battle, which lasts seven hours. Hagano throws the first spear; it glances on Walter's upraised shield, and strikes deep into the ground. Gunther the overweening, with great bravery of countenance, but little strength, throws his the next; it lodges in the lower rim of the hero's shield, and is easily shaken off. They then attack him sword in hand, he defending bimself with his spear. After a while, Gunther imagines the regaining of his own lance by stealth, which the poet, who seems to conceive the weapon to have been forfeited, takes greatly amiss. The process of his theft is carefully detailed, though it is after all a maneuvre rather difficult to understand. He nearly succeeds, but just as he is making off with the recovered lance, Walter observes him, and plucks it back. Gunther has exposed himself in the attempt, and is on the point of falling a sacrifice to his temerity, when Hagano the mighty in arms comes to his aid, and, covering him with his shield, presents the naked edge of his cruel sword before Walter's face. The King being rescued, they now fight fairly forward till the ninth hour: by which time it seems as if they all began to think the amusement had lasted long enough.

A threefold deadly feeling smote them all:

The grief of fight; sore toil; the sun's strong heat. At length the single warrior reflects that if this is to continue, the two will inevitably tire him out: a new imagination crosses his mind, and he instantly takes his resolution. He makes a short impatient speech to Hagano, and springing up, throws his lance at him. It pierces shield, breast-plate, and slightly wounds the mighty body of the warrior. At the same moment he rushes impetuously with his drawn sword

upon Gunther, dashes by his shield to the right, and, with an astonishing and puissant stroke, cleaves up shin, knee, and hip. The King falls over bis shield at the feet of his terrible foe. The good liegeman Hagano turns pale on seeing the danger of his lord; and as Alpher's son raises his blood-thirsty sword for the last blow, heeding no longer his own pain, the hero thrusts his stooped head before the furious stroke. The helmet of perfect temper and artifice, receives the blow in such wise that the sparkles flash out, and the sword, shivering against the impenetrable metal, glitters in fragments in the air and on the grass. Walter, overcome with rage, loses all his self-command, and impatiently flings from him the useless hilt, disdaining it, much

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as it was graced with skilful workmanship and costly metal. But as, in casting it away, he stretched out his hand widely from him, Hagano, espying his advantage, hews it off at the wrist, rejoicing to deal him so swift a wound. The dreaded, the conquering right hand, so honoured by rulers, by nations, falls in the midst of its act. But the warlike man, who was not used to yield even to adverse fortune, whose strong spirit vanquished all suffering of his body, let neither his hope nor his countenance fall. He hides the mutilated arm behind his shield, and with the uninjured hand draws his dagger, which hung girded on the right side, to avenge his loss. With it he struck out the gallant Hagano's right eye, slit down face and lip, and reft him of half a dozen cheek-teeth.

These bloody feats end their warfare. Every one was summoned, by his wounds and his spent breath, to lay aside his weapons. which of them could go free from this strife? When all was over, they Jooked about at their trophies. Here lay King Gunther's foot—there Walter's hand, and a little to one side, Hagano's quivering eye. This was all the division they made of the bracelets of the Huns. Two for the third was lying—two sat in the grass, and staunched the streams of blood that gushed from them. Then Alpher's son called the fearful concealed maiden, who came forth and bound up their wounds. He then said, “Bring, Hiltegund, bring hither wine. Bear first the goblet to Hagano. He is a brave man in battle, did he only not prefer loyalty to right. Bring it next to me, because I have endured more than the others. And Gunther, because he is so slothful, and yet has dared to appear among men who wield arms with might, lithely and slackly as he wages war, Gunther shall drink the last.” The daughter of Herrick obeys his words. But Hagano, much as his bosom panted with thirst, spake, as she proffered him the goblet, “Give it, lady, give it first to thy lord and bridegroom; for Alpher's son, I must confess it, is braver than I. He towers above me, and the Frank warriors all in the fight.”

The heroes, unvanquished in spirit, fatigued in their whole bodyHagano, and the thorny son of the King of Aquitaine, began, after so many a bout of war and bloody dealing, to engage over their full cups in an encounter of wit. The Frank is gamesome on the future lefthanded performances of his friend, and Walter makes as merry with the misfortune of the one-eyed Sicambrian, as he calls him. The raillery that passes speaks more for the stout heart of the warriors than for their talent at humour; but it derives some merit from the circumstances, and its strain is at least purely antique and original.

The story is here, abruptly, as it will appear to most readers, but undoubtedly on sufficient grounds, terminated. They now renew their bloody compact, meaning, apparently, their ancient compact, now sealed anew in blood. They lay the groaning King on his steed, and separate-the Franks for Worms—the Prince of Aquitaine for his native land. Here he was splendidly welcomed, and, beloved by all, reigned, after the death of his parents, thirty years over his happy people. What wars he waged, how often he triumphed, the worn-out pen of the author refuses him to describe.

Thou that shalt read, forgive the chirping grasshopper, and think not so much on her hoarse voice as on her tender years, which forbid her yet to forsake the nest, and stretch her flight through the loftier atmosphere. Vol. I. No. 1.-Museum.

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