his writings fall short of his traditional glory, and that his martial exploits were not of the very highest importance, there is no necessity for supposing that the impression which he made upon his contemporaries was either illusive or exaggerated. Traits of character, which must have been obvious to them, although hidden from our view, no doubt, distinguished this great man, independently of his pen and of his sword. Some of these,

indeed, have descended to us; but among these, that which marked his closing scene shines most conspicuous, and presents as noble and affecting an instance of chivalrous generosity, or, rather, of true Christian charity, as is to be met with in history.

Sir Philip Sidney, in July, 1586, accompanied by the young prince Maurice, took Axell, a town in Flanders, without the loss of a single man; but, on September 22, 1586, having engaged with a convoy sent by the enemy to Zutphen, a strong town in Guelderland, then besieged by the Spaniards, the English troops, far inferior in number to those of the enemy, though they gained a decisive victory, sustained an irreparable loss by the death of their gallant

leader. Having one horse shot under him, he mounted a second, and seeing Lord Willoughby surrounded by the enemy, and in imminent danger, he rushed forward to rescue him. Having accomplished his purpose, he continued the fight with great spirit, until he received a bullet in the left thigh, which proved fatal.

As Sir Philip was returning from the field of battle, pale, languid, and thirsty with excess of bleeding, he asked for water to quench his thirst. The water was brought, and had no sooner approached his lips than he instantly resigned it to a dying soldier, whose ghastly countenance attracted his notice, speaking these memorable words:-"This man's necessity is still greater than mine."

WILLIAM DE CABESTAN AND THE LADY

SERMONDA.

THE following anecdote of the gay and gallant days of the Troubadours, is highly illustrative of the spirit of the times. William de Cabestan attached himself, in the quality of a Troubadour, to the Lady Sermonda, the wife of Raymond de Chateau-Roussillon, a rich and powerful lord, but better known for his pride and ferocity of disposition. Charmed by the person and talents of the gallant Troubadour, the Lady made him her cavalier; but her attentions speedily gave umbrage to Raymond, who confined her in a tower, and treated her with the greatest barbarity.

he

Cabestan's prudence yielded to his grief, and

gave vent to his feelings in a chanson, which proved to him the dying note of the swan; for Raymond, who could not doubt that it was intended for his wife, resolved to take a horrible revenge on them both. Having enticed the Troubadour to a distance from the Castle, he put him to death, and then cut off his head and tore out his heart. On his return to the Castle, he ordered the latter to be dressed and served L

VOL. I.

up to his wife as a piece of venison, and, when she had eaten of it, asked her, “ Do you know this meat?"—"No," replied she, "but it is excellent."-" No doubt," retorted the tyrant, presenting the head of Cabestan; at sight of which, the Lady exclaimed, "Yes, barbarian, it is delicious, and it is the last dish of which I will partake." At these words, Raymond rushed upon her with his sword, but, escaping from his attacks, she threw herself from a balcony, and thus put a period to her existence.

The news of this event soon spread throughout Languedoc; the relations of the lady united with those of the Troubadour to obtain justice on his murderer; and Alphonsus II., King of Arragon, came himself to the spot to take cognizance of the fact. The Castle of Roussillon was demolished, Raymond put to death, and the bodies of the lovers were conveyed to Perpignan, where they were buried in the same tomb, before the gate of the Church of St. John, to which, for a considerable time afterwards, the Knights of Roussillon and the neighbouring districts annually resorted, with their ladies, to perform a solemn service to their memory.

PIERRE VIDAL.

THE anecdote which we are about to relate offers a complete contrast to the preceding, in the characters of all the personages who figure

in it.

Pierre Vidal was the son of a furrier at Toulouse, and was born about the middle of the twelfth century. His brilliant imagination, fine voice, and passion for the ladies, soon decided his vocation. He united to considerable poetical talent, a mixture of wisdom and folly, in which the latter quality appears to have predominated. Amorous of every lady who enjoyed the reputation of beauty, he imagined that none could help falling in love with him at first sight.

These extravagances gave him celebrity, and he was much sought after by the neighbouring Barons; but he attached himself more particularly to Barral, Viscount of Marseilles, whose wife, the Lady Alazaïs, was the object of his adoration. His passion was not unknown to the Viscount; who, far from being offended at it, treated it, on the contrary, as a subject of diversion and ridicule.

Poor Vidal happened one day to enter the