the Christians.

"There they lie!" exclaimed he: "the heavens have fallen upon them! all are lost! all dead*!"

Upon this there was a great cry of consternation among the people, and loud wailings of women; for the flower of the youth of Loxa were with the army. An old Moorish soldier, scarred in many a border battle, stood leaning on his lance by the gateway. "Where is Ali Atar?" demanded he eagerly. "If he still live, the army cannot be lost!"

"I saw his turban cloven by the Christian sword," replied Cidi Caleb. "His body is floating in the Xenil."

When the soldier heard these words, he smote his breast, and threw dust upon his head; for he was an old follower of Ali Atar.

The noble Cidi Caleb gave himself no repose; but, mounting another steed, hastened to carry the disastrous tidings to Granada. As he passed through the villages and hamlets, he spread sorrow around; for their chosen men had followed the king to the wars.

When he entered the gates of Granada, and announced the loss of the king and army, a voice of horror went throughout the city. Every one thought but of his own share in the general calamity, and crowded round the bearer of ill tidings. One asked after a father, another after a brother, some after a lover, and many a mother after her son. His replies were still of wounds and death. To one he replied, "I saw thy father pierced with a lance, as he defended the person of the king." To another, "Thy brother fell wounded under the hoofs of the horses; but there was no time to aid him, for the Christian Cavalry were upon us." To a third, "I saw the horse of thy lover covered with blood, and galloping without his rider." To a fourth, "Thy son fought by my side on the banks of the Xenil: we were surrounded by the enemy, and driven into the stream. I heard him call aloud upon Allah in the midst of the waters: when I reached the other bank, he was no longer by my side!"

The noble Cidi Caleb passed on, leaving Granada in lamentation. He urged his steed up the steep avenue of trees and fountains, that leads to the Alhambra, nor stopped until he arrived before the gate of justice. Ayxa, the mother of Boabdil, and Morayma, his beloved and tender wife, had daily watched, from the tower of the Gomeres, to behold his trium* Cura de los Palacios.

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phant return. Who shall describe their affliction, when they heard the tidings of Cidi Caleb? The sultana Ayxa spake not much, but sate as one entranced in wo. Every now and then a deep sigh burst forth; but she raised her eyes to Heaven. It is the will of Allah!" said she; and with these words she endeavoured to repress the agonies of a mother's sorrow. The tender Morayma threw herself on the earth, and gave way to the full turbulence of her feelings, bewailing her husband and her father. The high-minded Ayxa rebuked the violence of her grief. "Moderate these transports, my daughter," said she; "remember, magnanimity should be the attribute of princes: it becomes not them to give way to clamorous sorrow, like common and vulgar minds." But Morayma could only deplore her loss with the anguish of a tender woman. She shut herself up in her mirador, and gazed all day with streaming eyes upon the vega. Every object before her recalled the causes of her affliction. The river Xenil, which ran shining amidst the groves and gardens, was the same on the banks of which had perished her father, Ali Atar: before her lay the road to Loxa, by which Boabdil had departed in martial state, surrounded by the chivalry of Granada. Ever and anon she would burst into an agony of grief. "Alas, my father!" she would exclaim, the river runs smiling before me, that covers thy mangled remains! who will gather them to an honoured tomb, in the land of the unbeliever? And thou, oh, Boabdil! light of my eyes! joy of my heart! life of my life! Wo the day, and wo the hour that I saw thee depart from these walls! The road by which thou hast departed is solitary; never will it be gladdened by thy return! The mountain thou hast traversed lies like a cloud in the distance, and all beyond it is darkness!"

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The royal minstrels were summoned, to assuage the sorrows of the queen: they attuned their instruments to cheerful strains; but, in a little while, the anguish of their hearts prevailed, and turned their songs to lamentations.

“Beautiful Granada!" they exclaimed, "how is thy glory faded! The vivarrambla no longer echoes to the tramp of steed, and sound of trumpet; no longer is it crowded with thy youthful nobles, eager to display their prowess in the tourney and the festive tilt of reeds. Alas! the flower of thy chivalry lies low in a foreign land! The soft note of the lute is no longer heard in thy mournful streets, the lively castanet

is silent upon thy hills, and the graceful dance of the zambra is no more seen beneath thy bowers. Behold, the Alhambra is forlorn and desolate! In vain do the orange and myrtle breathe their perfumes into its silken chambers; in vain does the nightingale sing within its groves; in vain are its marble halls refreshed by the sound of fountains, and the gush of limpid rills! Alas! the countenance of the king no longer shines within those halls; the light of the Alhambra is set for ever!"

Thus all Granada, say the Arabian chroniclers, gave itself up to lamentations; there was nothing but the voice of wailing from the palace to the cottage. All joined to deplore their youthful monarch, cut down in the freshness and promise of his youth. Many feared that the prediction of the astrologer was about to be fulfilled, and that the downfal of the kingdom would follow the death of Boabdil; while all declared, that, had he survived, he was the very sovereign calculated to restore the realm to its ancient prosperity and glory.

CHAPTER XVIII.

AN unfortunate death atones with the world for a multitude of errors. While the populace thought their youthful monarch had perished in the field, nothing could exceed their grief for his loss, and their adoration of his memory: when, however, they learned that he was still alive, and had surrendered himself captive to the Christians, their feelings underwent an instant change. They decried his talents as a a commander, his courage as a soldier. They railed at his expedition, as rash and ill-conducted; and they reviled him for not having dared to die on the field of battle, rather than surrender to the enemy.

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The alfaquis, as usual, mingled with the populace, and artfully guided their discontents. 'Behold," exclaimed they, "the prediction is accomplished, which was pronounced at the birth of Boabdil! He has been seated on the throne, and the kingdom has suffered downfal and disgrace by his defeat and captivity. Comfort yourselves, oh Moslems! The evil day has passed by: the fates are satisfied, the sceptre, which has been broken in the feeble hand of Boabdil, is destined to resume its former power and sway, in the vigorous grasp of Aben Hassan."

The people were struck with the wisdom of these words. They rejoiced, that the baleful prediction, which had so long hung over them, was at an end; and declared, that none but Muley Aben Hassan had the valour and capacity necessary for the protection of the kingdom in this time of trouble.

The longer the captivity of Boabdil continued, the greate grew the popularity of his father. One city after another renewed allegiance to him: for power attracts power, and fortune creates fortune. At length he was enabled to return to Granada, and establish himself once more in the Alhambra. At his approach, his repudiated spouse, the sultana Ayxa, gathered together the family and treasures of her captive son, and retired with a handful of the nobles into the albaycen, the rival quarter of the city, the inhabitants of which still retained feelings of loyalty to Boabdil. Here she fortified herself, and held the semblance of a court, in the name of her son. The fierce Muley Aben Hassan would have willingly carried fire and sword into this factious quarter of the capital; but he dared not confide in his new and uncertain popularity. Many of the nobles detested him for his past cruelty; and a large portion of the soldiery, beside many of the people of his own party, respected the virtues of Ayxa la Horra, and pitied the misfortunes of Boabdil. Granada, therefore, presented the singular spectacle of two sovereignties within the same city. The old king fortified himself in the lofty towers of the Alhambra, as much against his own subjects as against the Christians: while Ayxa, with the zeal of a mother's affection, which waxes warmer and warmer towards her offspring when in adversity, still maintained the standard of Boabdil on the rival fortress of the alcazaba; and kept his powerful faction alive within the walls of the albaycin.

CHAPTER XIX.

THE unfortunate Boabdil remained a prisoner, closely guarded in the castle of Vaena. From the towers of his prison he beheld the town below filled with armed men; and the lofty hill on which it was built, girdled by massive walls and ramparts, on which a vigilant watch was maintained, night and day. The mountains around were studed with watch-towers, overlooking the lonely roads which led to Granada; so that a turban could not stir over the border without the alarm being

given, and the whole country put on the alert. Boabdil saw, that there was no hope of escape from such a fortress, and that any attempt to rescue him would be equally in vain. His heart was filled with anxiety, as he thought on the confusion and ruin which his captivity must cause in his affairs; while sorrows of a softer kind overcame his fortitude, as he thought on the evils it might bring upon his family.

The Count de Cabra, though he maintained the most vigilant guard over his royal prisoner, yet treated him with profound deference. He had appointed the noblest apartments in the castle for his abode, and sought in every way to cheer him during his captivity. A few days only had passed away, when missives arrived from the Castilian sovereigns. Ferdinand had been transported with joy at hearing of the capture of the Moorish monarch; seeing the deep and politic uses that might be made of such an event: but the magnanimous spirit of Isabella was filled with compassion for the unfortunate captive. Their messages to Boabdil were full of sympathy and consolation; breathing that high and gentle courtesy, which dwells in noble minds.

This magnanimity in his foe cheered the dejected spirit of the captive monarch. "Tell my sovereigns, the king and the queen,' "said he to the messenger, "that I can not be unhappy, being in the power of such high and mighty princes; especially since they partake so largely of that grace and goodness, which Allah bestows upon the monarchs whom he greatly loves. Tell them, further, that I had long thought of submitting myself to their sway, to receive the kingdom of Granada from their hands, in the same manner that my ancestor received it from King John II., father of the gracious queen. My greatest sorrow, in this my captivity, is, that I must appear to do that from force, which I would fain have done from inclination."

In the mean time, Muley Aben Hassan, finding the faction of his son still formidable in Granada, was anxious to consolidate his power, by gaining possession of the person of Boabdil. For this purpose, he sent an embassy to the Catholic monarchs, offering large terms for the ransom, or ratner the purchase, of his son; proposing, among other conditions, to release the Count of Cifuentes, and nine other of his most distinguished captives, and to enter into a treaty of confederacy with the sovereigns. Neither did the implacable