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Guilbert, if thou shalt have reason to complain of me! Many a law, many a commandment have I broken, but my word

never.'

"I will then trust thee,' said Rebecca, • thus far,' and she descended from the verge of the battlement, but remained standing close by one of the embrasures, or machi colles, as they were then called. Here, she said, I take my stand. Remain where thou art, and if thou shalt attempt to diminish by one step the distance now between

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array of archers and ill-armed peasants, however, would have been of little avail against the proud Norman castle of Front-de-Boeuf, had they not been fortunate enough to secure the assistance and guidance of one well skilled in every variety of military enterprise. This is the knight of the Fetterlock, or, in other words, King Richard himself, who, in passing through the forest, has already formed an acquaintance with some of the Merrymen of Robin Hood, and who has come, a willing ally, to assist, by his "While Rebecca spoke thus, her high and firm resolve, which corresponded so well-deliverance of Ivanhoe, and his other personal conduct and prowess, in the with the expressive beauty of her countenance, gave to her looks, air, and manner, a dignity that seemed more than mortal. Her glance quailed not, her cheek blanched not, for the fear of a fate so instant and so horrible; on the contrary, the thought that she had her fate at her command, and could

us, thou shalt see that the Jewish maiden will rather trust her soul with God, than her honour to the Templar.'

escape at will from infamy to death, gave a yet deeper colour of carnation to her complexion, and a yet more brilliant fire to her eye. Bois-Guilbert, proud himself and highspirited, thought he had never beheld beauty so animated and so commanding.

"Let there be peace between us, Rebecca,' he said.

"Peace, if thou wilt,' answered Rebecca- Peace-but with this space between." "Thou need'st no longer fear me,' said Bois-Guilbert.

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"I fear thee not,' replied she; thanks to him that reared this dizzy tower so high, that nought could fall from it and live thanks to him, and to the God of Israel! I fear thee not." "

We can with difficulty imagine any thing finer than the mixture of northern and oriental sublimities in the high-wrought passions of the persons of this scene; and yet of both there are still more striking specimens behind. In the mean time, however, the author has collected a formidable, though at first a despised force, for the rescue of Rebecca, of Cedric, and his other captives. The Saxon peasantry of the neighbourhood have trooped together in aid of their Franklin-the outlaws of the forest have joined them, eager to have an opportunity of revenging their many quarrels against Front-de-Boeuf and those Norman oppressors, whose tyranny has been, in most instances, the cause of banishing them from the bounds of society-a bold, a skilful, and withal a generous band, having at their head a dauntless hero of the Greenwood, who in due time turns out to be no less a man than Robin Hood. This

captive subjects, from the hands of a set of lawless ruffians, whose hostility to his own just sway has been not less than their cruelty towards the Saxons of his kingdom. The description of the siege of the castle by these forces, forms another most vivid and splendid piece of painting, in every line of which it is easy to recognise the fiery touch of the Poet of Marmion. After many unsuccessful attacks, the outer court of the castle is at last gained by the strength of the single arm of the king, who beats the postern-gate into fragments with his far-famed battleaxe. The giant Front-de-Boeuf, receives from his hand a wound which entirely disables him from continuing in arms-The Templar, Bois-Guilbert, is laid prostrate by the same force; but being desired to ask his life or perish, he refuses to make any submission to an unknown enemy. Richard whispers a word in the Templar's ear, which immediately produces the most submissive and reverent demeanour on his part. The monarch knows Brian well-he desires him to fly from English ground, and be thankful for unmerited mercy. The Templar flies-but the thoughts of Rebecca are still uppermost in his mind, and he contrives, in the midst of the tumult, to place her on his saddle before him ere he takes his departure.

Front-de-Boeuf, meantime, is extended on his helpless couch in the main tower or keep of the castle-the only part of the fortress which has not fallen into the hands of the assailants. A terrible end is reserved for this ferocious and blood-stained noble. The castle he possesses, as may be gathered from its name (Torquillstone), is not one of Norman foundation, but the hereditary mansion of a Saxon noble,

which had fallen after the battle of Hastings, into the hands of this baron's father. Torquill and all his sons were slain, it appears, in defence of the castle; and the only one of the family that survived, was a beautiful daughter of the Saxon lord, reserved by the victor for the purposes of his own violent and merciless gratifications. Dark hints are dropt of yet darker deeds that have stained the castle while this unhappy woman has remained with its two successive masters of murder and of worse than murder but they are only hints even in the Romance. The Saxon harlot, however, is now old and neglected, and she seizes the opportunity of this time of terror, to avenge, by one terrible blow, the whole of her life of injuries on the head of the fierce and heartless tyrant, who has been guilty towards her of every thing that can make woman hate man.

In his agony, the Baron has been crying aloud, that he fain would pray but dare not.

"Lives Reginald Front-de-Bœuf,' said a broken and shrill voice close by his bedside, to say there is that which he dares 'not !'

"The evil conscience, and the shaken nerves of Front-de-Bœuf, heard, in this strange interruption to his soliloquy, the voice of one of those demons, who, as the superstition of the times believed, beset the beds of dying men, to distract their thoughts, and turn them from the meditations which concerned their eternal welfare. He shuddered, and drew himself together,; but, instantly summoning up his wonted resolution, he exclaimed, Who is there!—what art thou, that darest to echo my words in a tone like that of the night-raven? Come before my couch, that I may see thee.'

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I am thine evil angel, Reginald Front-de-Bœuf,' replied the voice.

"Let me behold thee then in thy bodily shape, if thou be'est indeed a fiend,' replied the dying knight; think not that I will blench from thee!-By the eternal dungeon, could I but grapple with these horrors that hover round me, as I have done with mortal dangers, heaven nor hell should say that I shrunk from the conflict !'

"Think on thy sins, Reginald Frontde-Bœuf on rebellion, on rapine, on murder! Who stirred up the licentious John to war against his grey-headed fatheragainst his generous brother?'

"Be thou fiend, priest, or devil,' replied Front-de-Boeuf, thou liest in thy throat!-Not I stirred John to rebellion not I alone there were fifty knights and barons, the flower of the midland counites-better men never laid lance in restVOL. VI.

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In peacet hou shalt NOT die,' repeated the voice; even in death shalt thou think on thy murders-on the groans which this castle has echoed on the blood that is ingrained in its floors !'

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Thou canst not shake me by thy petty malice,' answered Front-de-Bœuf with a ghastly and constrained laugh. • The infidel Jew-it was merit with heaven to deal with him as I did, else wherefore are men canonized who dip their hands in the blood have slain, they were the foes of my counof Saracens ?-The Saxon porkers, whom I try, and of my lineage, and of my liege lord.-Ho! ho! thou see'st there is no cre vice in my coat of plate-Art thou fled ?— art thou silenced ?'

"No, foul parricide!' replied the voice 'think of thy father!-think of his death -think of his banquet-room, flooded with his gore, and by the hand of a son !'

"Ha!' answered the Baron, after a

long pause, and thou knowest that, thou art indeed the author of evil, and as omniscient as the monks call thee!-That secret I deemed locked in my own breast, and in that of one beside the temptress, the partaker of my guilt.-Go, leave me, fiend! and seek the Saxon witch Ulrica, who alone could tell thee what she and I alone witnessed-Go, I say, to her, who washed the wounds, and straighted the corpse, and gave to the slain man the outward show of one parted in time and in the course of natureGo to her she was my temptress, the foul provoker, the more foul rewarder of the deed-let her, as well as I, taste of the tortures which anticipate hell!"

"She already tastes them,' said UIrica, stepping before the couch of Front-deBœuf she hath long drunken of this cup, and its bitterness is sweetened to see that thou dost partake it.-Grind not thy teeth, Front-de-Bœuf-roll not thine eyes-clench not thy hand, nor shake it at me with that gesture of menace !-The hand which, like that of thy renowned ancestor who gained thy name, could have broken with one stroke the skull of a mountain-bull, is now unnerved and powerless as mine own?'

"Vile murderous hag!' replied Frontde-Bœuf, detestable screech-owl! is it then thou who art come to exult over the ruins thou hast assisted to lay low?'

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Ay, Reginald Front-de-Boeuf,' answered she, it is Ulrica! it is the daughter of the murdered Torquil Wolfganger!. it is the sister of his slaughtered sons! it is she who demands of thee, and of thy father's house, father and kindred, name and fame-all that she has lost by the name of Front-de-Bœuf!-Think of my wrongs, Front-de-Bœuf, and answer me if I speak not truth. Thou has been my evil angel, 2 L

and I will be thine-I will dog thee till the very instant of dissolution."

"Detestable fury!' answered Front-deBoeuf, that moment shalt thou never witness-Ho! Giles, Clement, and Eustace! Saint Maur and Stephen! seize this damned witch, and hurl her from the battlements headlong-she has betrayed us to the Saxon. -Ho! Saint Maur! Clement ! false-hearted knaves, where tarry ye?'

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Call on them again, valiant Baron,' said the hag, with a smile of grisly mockery; summon thy vassals around thee, doom them that loiter to the scourge and the dun geon-But know, mighty chief,' she continued, suddenly changing her tone, thou shalt have neither answer, nor aid, nor obedience at their hands.-Listen to these horrid sounds,' for the din of the recommenced assault and defence now rung fearfully loud from the battlements of the castle; in that war-cry is the downfall of thy house-The blood-cemented fabric of Front-de-Bouf's power totters to the foundation, and before the foes he most despised!-The Saxon, Reginald!-the scorned Saxon assails thy walls!-Why liest thou here, like a wornout hind, when the Saxon storms thy place of strength ?'

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Gods and fiends!' exclaimed the wounded knight; for one moment's strength, to drag myself to the melley, and perish as becomes my name!'

"Think not of it, valiant warrior!' replied she; thou shalt die no soldier's death, but perish like the fox in his den, when the peasants have set fire to the cover around it.' "Hateful hag! thou liest,' exclaimed Front-de-Bauf; my followers bear them bravely-my walls are strong and high-my comrades in arms fear not a whole host of Saxons, were they headed by Hengist and Horsa! The war-cry of the Templar and of the Free Companions rises high over the conflict! And by mine honour, when we kindle the blazing beacon, for joy of our defence, it shall consume thee, body and bones; and I shall live to hear thou art gone from earthly fires to those of that hell, which never sent forth an incarnate fiend more utterly diabolical!'

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"Hold thy belief,' replied Ulrica, till the proof reach thee-But, no!' she said, interrupting herself, thou shalt know, even now, the doom, which all thy power, strength, and courage is unable to avoid, though it is prepared for thee by this feeble hand.-Markest thou the smouldering and suffocating vapour which already eddies in sable folds through the chamber?-Didst thou think it was but the darkening of thy bursting eyes-the difficulty of thy cumbered breathing ?-No! Front-de-Bœuf, there is another cause-Rememberest thou the magazine of fuel that is stored beneath these apartments ?'

"Woman!' he exclaimed with fury, thou hast not set fire to it ? By heaven thou hast, and the castle is in flames !'

"They are fast rising at least,' said

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Ulrica, with frightful composure; and a signal shall soon wave to warn the besiegers to press hard upon those who would extin guish them.-Farewell, Front-de-Bœuf !May Mista, Skogula, and Zernebock, gods of the ancient Saxons-fiends, as the priests now call them-supply the place of comforters at your dying bed, which Ulrica now relinquishes !-But know, if it will give thee comfort to know it, that Ulrica is bound to the same dark coast with thyself, the companion of thy punishment as the companion of thy guilt. And now, parricide, farewell for ever!-May each stone of this vaulted roof find a tongue to echo that title into thine ear!'

"So saying, she left the apartment; and Front-de-Bœuf could hear the crash of the ponderous key as she locked and doublelocked the door behind her, thus cutting off the most slender chance of escape. In the extremity of agony he shouted upon his servants and allies Stephen and St Maur!

Clement and Giles !-I burn here unaided!-To the rescue-to the rescue, brave Bois-Gilbert, valiant De Bracy-it is Frontde-Beuf who calls!-It is your master, ye traitor squires!-Your ally-your brother in arms, ye perjured and faithless knights!

all the curses due to traitors upon your recreant heads, do you abandon me to perish thus miserably!They hear me not they cannot hear me my voice is lost in the din of battle. The smoke rolls thicker and thicker

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the fire has caught upon the floor belowO for one draught of the air of heaven, were it to be purchased by instant annihilation!' And in the mad phrenzy of despair the wretch how shouted with the shouts of the fighters, now muttered curses on himself, on mankind, and on Heaven itself. The red fire flashes through the thick smoke!' he exclaimed; The demon marches against me under the banner of his own elementFoul spirit, avoid!I go not with thee without my comrades-all, all are thine, that garrison, these walls Thinkest thou, Front-de-Boeuf will be singled out to go alone? No the infidel Templar-the licentious De Bracy-Ulrica, the foul murthering strumpet the men who aided my enterprizes the dog Saxons and accursed Jews, who are my prisoners-all, all shall attend me a goodly fellowship as ever took the downward road-Ha, ha, ha!' and he laughed in his frenzy till the vaulted root rnng again. Who laughed there!' claimed Front-de-Bœuf, in altered mood, for the noise of the conflict did not prevent the echoes of his own frenzied laughter from returning upon his ear Who laughed there?Ulrica, was it thou?-Speak, witch, and I forgive thee-for, only thou or the fiend of hell himself could have laughed at such a moment. Avaunt-avaunt !'.

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"But it were impious to trace any farther the picture of the blasphemer and parricide's death-bed."

While such are the sufferings of Front-de-Boeuf in the interior of the

keep, Ulrica nas climbed to the battle
ment, there, on its summit, to await, in
a wild triumphant bitterness of spirit,
the issue of her deed. "Her long
dishevelled grey hair flies back from
her uncovered head, and the ine
briating delight of gratified vengeance
contends in her eyes with the fire of
insanity;" and she sings a northern
hymn of death and slaughter, than
which nothing in the whole relics of
Norse Minstrelsy is more terrific. It
is perhaps in this point of the author's
representation, that the enmity be-
tween the Saxon and Norman race is
set forth with the highest effect of
tragical dignity. This is the last
stanza of the hymn.
"All must perish!

The sword cleaveth the helmet ;
The strong armour is pierced by the lance;
Fire devoureth the dwelling of princes,
Engines break down the fences of the battle.
All must perish!

The race of Hengist is gone-
The name of Horsa is no more!

his designs-when an unexpected instrument of present protection from the guilty will of Bois-Guilbert is raised up for her in the presence of the grand-master of the Templars, Lucasde-Beaumanoir, who arrives from France to raise contributions for the war of Palestine, and to reform abuses among the degenerate and luxurious brethren of his order. Beaumanoir is a character drawn with great truth and skill, and admirably contrasted with those among whom he is called upon to mingle-grave, severe, bigoted, proud-but sincere, earnest, devout, adhering in word and deed to the old ascetic observances of the Temple, with a firm and sorrowful constancy, which produces a very pa thetic effect. We wish we durst quote some of the descriptions of his person, or some part of his conversations with his dissolute brethren; but this is impossible. The circumstances of a young and beautiful female being

Shrink not then from your doom, sons of lodged in a house of the order, by å

the sword!

Let your blades drink blood like wine; Feast ye in the banquet of slaughter. By the light of the blazing halls!

religious knight of such eminence as Brian de Bois-Guilbert, appears to this old man to be a scandal of the deepest dye and the Templar is preserved

Strong be your swords while your blood is from instant punishment, only by the

warm,

And spare neither for pity nor fear,
For vengeance hath but an hour;
Strong hate itself shall expire!
I also must perish.

The towering flames had now surmounted every obstruction and rose to the evening skies one huge and burning beacon, seen far and wide through the adjacent country. Tower after tower crashed down, with blazing roof and rafter; and the combatants were driven from the court-yard. The vanquished, of whom very few remained, scattered and escaped into the neighbouring wood. The victors, assembling in large bands, gazed with wonder, not unmixed with fear, upon the flames, in which their own ranks and arms glanced dusky red. The maniac figure of the Saxon Ulrica was for a long time visible on the lofty stand she had chosen, tossing her arms abroad with wild exultation, as if she reigned empress of the conflagration which she had raised. At length, with a terrific crash, the whole turret gave way, and she perished in the flames which had consumed her tyrant. An awful pause of horror silenced each murmur of the armed spectators, who, for the space of several minutes, stirred not a finger, save to sign the cross.'

But the interest of the tale, as we have said, is all with Rebecca. Her fierce lover has lodged her safely in the Preceptory of Templestowe, and looks forward to the near fulfilment of

suggestion, easily listened to by his superstitious superior, that witchcraft had been exerted against his virtue as well as womanly beauty.' Rebecca, in brief, is believed to be a sorceress, and the report of her medical skill adds much confirmation to the absurd belief. She must be tried for her imaginary crime; and unless she can prove her innocence, she must die the death of the faggot, in presence of the relentless Beaumanoir. While, however, she is yet standing before this merciless judge, a slip of paper is put into her hands-it comes from BoisGuilbert-and in obedience to its suggestion, the damsel demands leave to defend her innocence within three days by a champion. It had been the in tention of Bois-Guilbert himself to appear in disguise, and act this part on the day of trial for Rebecca; but this plan is broken by the grand-master, who appoints Bois-Guilbert to be on that day the champion, not of Rebecca, but of the Temple-and the artful interference of some other brethren of the order prevents the fiery lover from being able to refuse this hateful part.

At night, nevertheless, when the preceptory is still, the Templar gains

access, through darkness and silence, to the cell of Rebecca-and one of the most touching scenes in the romance is the interview which takes place between them. Before he enters, the voice of the damsel is heard singing, in her solitude, a hymn of oriental sublimity, and full also of female gentleness-in which the dignity of her old and chosen race is loftily and mournfully contrasted with the present forlorn condition of her kindred and herself. The Templar bursts in and throws himself at her feet-he is willing, even now after all that has passed, to sacrifice every thing for her sake, so she but requite his love, and be willing to share the fate which he would wilfully render degraded.

"I weigh not these evils,' said Rebecca, afraid to provoke the wild knight, yet equally determined neither to endure his passion, nor even feign to endure it. Be a man, be a Christian! If indeed thy faith recommends that mercy which rather your tongues than your actions pretend, save me from this dreadful death, without seeking a requital which would change thy magnani mity into base barter.'

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"No, damsel!' said the proud Templar, springing up, thou shalt not thus impose on me if I renounce present fame and future ambition, I renounce it for thy sake, and we will escape in company. Listen to me, Rebecca,' he said, again softening his tone; England, Europe,-is not the world. There are spheres in which we may act, ample enough even for my ambition. We will go to Palestine, where Conrade, Marquis of Montserrat, is my friend-a friend free as myself from the doting scruples which fetter our free-born reason-rather with Saladin will we league ourselves, than endure the scorn of the bigots whom we contemn-I will form new paths to greatness,' he continued, again traversing the room with hasty strides Europe shall hear the loud step of him she has driven from her sons!-Not the millions whom her crusaders send to slaughter, can do so much to defend Palestine-not the sabres of the thousands and ten thousands of Saracens can hew their way so deep into that land for which nations are striving, as the strength and policy of me and those brethren, who, in despite of yonder old bigot, will adhere to me in good and evil.— Thou shalt be a queen, Rebecca-on Mount Carmel shall we pitch the throne which my valour will gain for you, and I will exchange my long desired batton for a sceptre." "A dream,' said Rebecca; an empty vision of the night, which, were it a waking reality, affects me not-enough that the power which thou mightest acquire, I will never share; nor hold I so light of country or religious faith, as to esteem him who is willing to barter these ties, and cast away

the bonds of the Order of which he is a sworn member, in order to gratify an unruly passion for the daughter of another people. Put not a price on my deliverance, Sir Knight-sell not a deed of generosity and not for a selfish advantage-Go to the protect the oppressed for the sake of charity, throne of England, Richard will listen to my appeal from these cruel men.

Never, Rebecca,' said the Templar, fiercely. If I renounce my Order, for thee alone will I renounce it-Ambition shall remain mine, if thou refuse my love; I will not be fooled on all hands. Stoop my crest to Richard ?-ask a boon of that heart of pride?-Never, Rebecca, will I place the Order of the Temple at his fee in my person. I may forsake the Order, I never will degrade or betray it.'

"Now God be gracious to me,' said Rebecca, for the succour of man is well nigh hopeless!'

"It is indeed,' said the Templar; "for proud as thou art, thou has in me found thy match. If I enter the lists with my spear in rest, think not any human consideration shall prevent my putting forth my strength; and think then upon thine own fate to die the dreadful death of the worst of criminals-to be consumed upon a blazing pile-dispersed to the elements of which our strange forms are so mystically composed-not a relique left of that graceful frame, from which we could say this lived and moved!-Rebecca, it is not in woman to sustain this prospect-thou wilt yield to my suit.'

"Bois-Guilbert,' answered the Jewess, 'thou knowest not the heart of woman, or hast only conversed with those who are lost to her best feelings. I tell thee, proud Templar, that not in thy fiercest battles hast thou displayed more of thy vaunted courage, than has been shown by woman when called upon to suffer by affection or duty. I am myself a woman, tenderly nurtured, naturally fearful of danger, and impatient of pain-yet, when we enter those fatal lists, thou to fight and I to suffer, I feel the strong assurance within me, that my courage shall mount higher than thine. Farewell I waste no more words on thee; the time that remains on earth to the daughter of Jacob must be otherwise spent-she must seek the Comforter, who may hide his face from his people, but who ever opens his ear to the cry of those who seek him in sincerity and in truth.'

"We part then thus,' said the Templar, after a short pause; would to Heaven that we had never met, or that thou hadst been noble in birth, and Christian in faith!-Nay, by Heaven! when I gaze on thee, and think when and how we are next to meet, I could even wish myself one of thine own degraded nation; my hand conversant with ingots and shekels, instead of spear and shield; my head bent down before each petty noble, and my look only terrible to the shivering and bankrupt debtor-this

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