GAZUL; OR, THE LOVER'S QUARREL.

A Moorish Ballad:

The morning bright bathed in rosy light
San Lucar's ample street,
When Gazul, drest in a snow-white vest,
Mounted his courser fleet;

With purple and green, and in golden sheen,

His trappings and harness shone, Stately and loud, and with champings

proud,

Caracol'd his brave steed on.

At a mansion high, with a balcony,
Where a form of beauty stood,
Like an angel fair in the clear blue air
On an errand of mortal good;

Gazul checks his rein, for the pride of
Spain

Is there in her matchless grace; On his soul she gleams, as the sun's first beams

O'er a soft cloud's silvery face.

He lights on the ground with a warrior's bound,

And his knee on the earth is bent,

But his gaze is above, at the maid of his

Ere evening was near, after many a tear
Paid to burning love-to pride,
Zelinda once more, from her chamber door,
Calls her page to her couch's side.

'My eyes o'erfiow! haste, my dear page, go
To Gazul the Moorish knight,
Say, Zelinda will wait at her garden-gate
At the hour of pale moonlight.-
Yet, stay-oh! no-yes, my good page, go.
Then she call'd him back as fast

As her pride prevail'd, and love's impulse fail'd,

But she sent him away at last. The moon slept sweet on San Lucar's street,

And the trembling stars were bright, When the lover stole to the maid of his soul,

Thro' the shades of that lovely night. To the gate he is come, where the page

stands dumb,

With the wicket in his hand, And he enters there to his mistress fair, The star of Grenada's land.

Zelinda blush'd, but her voice was hush'd At the thought of her pride and scorn, And the Moor look'd down, for he thought

a frown

Might wither his hope new born. A moment they stood as all lovers would That had suffer'd a like annoy; Then the Knight in his arms lock'd his

mistress's charms,

In his bosom's speechless joy.

'By the Prophet I swear, my Zelinda fair,'
(Said the Knight when he silence broke)
That I'd sooner die by my enemy,
Or suffer the Christian yoke,
Than day by day drag my life away
Unwarm'd by thy eyes bright beam,
And the lists to me bring no victory,
But by spell of thy magic name.

'When I couch my lance, I see thee advance,

And direct it on my foe;

When faint grows my stroke, I thy name

invoke,

And it nerves my falchion's blow :
No laurels I wear but for thee, my fair,
No hopes in my bosom spring-

And I give no prayer where thou dost not share

My whole heart's offering."

In the eloquence of her dark eyes' sense,
On the Knight the maiden gazed;
They told her tale more than words avail,
And the flame that within her blazed:-

'Go, Gazul, go the tourney's show,
Thy turban I'll dress for thee,

Lest men should say that my fault to-day Robb'd thine arm of a victory.'

1

On his barb he sprung, as the morning hung

Like a pearl in the eastern sky, And rock, tower, and tree lay tranquilly In their colourless, nightly dye. To Gelves he went to the tournament,

With his mistress's token and prayerCould he fear a blow from the boldest foe, When love was his armour there!

New Series.

EDITOR'S ADDRESS.

Тив соmmеncement of a NEW SERIES of a Periodical affords its Editor, to say the least, as fair a pretext for addressing his readers, as the settlement of a running account with the merchant or dealer for entering upon a new contract-since it often happens that in correspondences of great length, little errors are engendered, and the requisitions of improved knowledge and taste are increased or altered as well in matters of literature as in commerce, to say nothing of the additional stimulus created by renovation in whatever shape. But lest my Readers should infer from the foregoing a design to encroach upon their province of determining the expediency of alteration, and pre-suppose a resolution to assume 'poet's licence, I beg leave to remind them that numerous instances occur where renewal is totally unconnected with change; thus the landlord renews a lease-the lover his vows and monarchs assurances of their pacific intentions. Having, I hope, cleared myself of any censure which might be attached to a spirit of innovation, I proceed to the more immediate object of this address.

It is well known, that the compression of air induces explosion, or undue extension of the body in which it is confined where the surrounding atmosphere is less dense, and that in either case, the effects are detrimental to adjacent bodies-the agreement and salutary co-operation of opposite elements ceasing to exist when their equilibrium is destroyed.

So knowledge, if unequally distributed, crushes or engrosses the natural importance of the uninformed. Knowledge is power only to those who possess it-its benefits are not to be realized by those who bask in the sunshine of others labours; and therefore he who neglects to acquire

such a measure as may be accessible to his situation and capabilities, deprives himself of his proportion of influence in the scale of society.

No age has been so fertile in expedients to facilitate the acquisition of science among the middle and lower classes as the present; new systems of education have been devised, and old ones improved or abolished; institutions, parochial, general. and peculiar, have been established, and the press teems with publications calculated to promote the general object in this country.

The labours of missionaries and their assistants abroad, are eminently adapted to prepare the uncivilized portion of mankind for a participation in the common good, to enable them to understand and appreciate their natural rights.

However, it is obvious that the entire range of science and literature, or deep research, in any department, is closed against the opportunities or abilities of persons generally, and it might be easily shown that it is not necessary. Every man has his peculiar excellencies-and the end of every attempt to instruct is not to withdraw him from the discharge of his pro'per duties, but to fit him for these by exciting and directing to their legitimate ob ject the former.

In no way has the diffusion of general knowledge been so extensively effected as by the periodicals which have issued in various forms within the last ten years.Most of these have been excellent in their kind, and extensive in circulation; they teach us, by an engaging process, to apprehend all that the ancients passed ages in learning; and every later period has been occupied in proving, revising, and rejecting. Much yet remains to be done in every department of science-many erroneous opinions contracted by the application of principles and theories previously unknown:-to correct these, and to furnish additional security and information, is the object of this and all works of like nature-and for myself and colleagues I may venture to assert, our earnest wish to be its full accomplishment, and our unceasing endeavours to combiné instruction with amusement, and to render amusement compatible with the best and ultimate purposes of instruction.

July 24th.

OF

IN

the

Few periods of history are so romantic and so abundant in interest, as that of the dominion of the Moors, in Spain. The bare fact of a barbarous and unlettered race, overwhelming with their countless swarms such a fair portion of civilized Europe, is truly astonishing, and almost incredible; but it is not more strange than true; and the events produced by almost constant wars between the haughty Spaniards and their barbaric conquerors, are so full of effect and startling contrast, as to present a tempting field to the writer of fiction. As yet, however, this rich mine has been worked to a very inconsiderable extent, so as to leave to the humble gleaner many of those ears which would otherwise have fallen to the share of his more aspiring predecessors. But let us to our tale. No. 169.-3d. S.

It was a lovely summer's evening; the hot and glaring sun was gradually withdrawing his too fervid beams, and was already bathing the summits of the distant western mountains in a sea of liquid gold. The inhabitants of Grenada having spent the period of his meridian splendour in that luxurious listlessness which excessive heat produces, now hailed his decline, and the rising of the refreshing sea-breeze, with unfeigned delight, which none but those who have experienced the enervating effects of a hot summer's day in Spain, can fully enter into. Many a gallant cavallero was that evening sauntering thro' the fragrant orange groves, or the umbrageous forests of chesnut and cork trees, which encircle the beautiful and splendid city of Grenada-into many a syren's ear

intrusion, but when Sebastian artfully explained that it was by mere accident he came there, and that he was offering the lady his services in shewing the way back to Grenada, Osmyn was pacified. He had been unable to discover the right path, and therefore gladly accepted the reiterated offer of Don Sebastian, who accompanied them to the palace of the Moorish governor of Grenada, who was a near relation, and at whose residence they were staying. Sebastian was not long in improving his advantages; he did all in his power to cultivate the friendship of Osmyn, and by that means, to gain access to the enslaver of his heart. In this he succeeded to the utmost of his wishes-but now another obstacle presented itself; Zelida, on whose heart it was evident he had made some impression, rejected with unutterable disdain the dishonourable proposals which he, ignorant of the strong principles of honour with which the minds of the Moors are embued, made to her.

In this dilemma, he offered her his hand in marriage-but as the Moors are forbidden to wed with Christians, this offer was also refused. But Sebastian was only the more determined to effect his purpose, in proportion as the difficulties that intervened appeared to grow more insuperable.

The confessor of the Olivença family, Father Anselmo, was an ambitious priest, entirely devoted to the interest of his patrons, and who never paid any regard to conscience when worldly interest was in the other scale. To this subtle priest Don Sebastian now applied. The business was one in which Anselmo delighted, especially as he knew, if he succeeded, he would secure the influence of Sebastian, which was not inconsiderable, at the court of Rome.

He accordingly applied his whole

mind to the task, and it was not long ere, with a triumphant countenance, he proposed a plan to Sebastian.

'Our church, as thou knowest,' said he, 'commands its children to keep no faith with heretics. Now, as this girl's only objection to thee is because thou art not a true Mussulman, thou canst pretend to change thy religion, and when thy purpose is served, thou only needst apply to Father Anselmo for absolution, and all is right.

'True, so far,' replied Sebastian, 'but-the marriage-the marriage!"

'Tut, tut!' said the friar, 'that is but a trifle: thou, being a Christian, canst not be bound by any Mussulman oaths-therefore, thou wilt be as free before it as after."

'Good!' cried Sebastian, thy scheme appears fair-it shall be tried. Truly, thou art a most excellent father confessor.'

The scheme was tried-and, unfortunately, it succeeded. The credulous Zelida, now deeply in love with her deceiver, and flattered by the idea that she had gained a convert to the creed of Mahomet, after making an ineffectual resistance, on the ground that she had not obtained the consent of her father, or of her brother, consented that they should be privately married, after her lover had renounced the Christian faith. Accordingly, in a few days after the plan had been proposed by the priest, Sebastian led the beautiful Zelida to the altar.

Months rolled on-Osmyn and Zelida had returned to the house of their father-still her marriage was kept secret by the desire of Sebastian. At length Zelida found herself in a condition in which concealment was impossible. When she revealed all, her father Abudah was in a paroxysm of rage, and the fury of Osmyn knew no bounds; but both were pacified when she solemnly assured them that Sebastian had re