precious jewels. Those of tender age were taught all graceful accomplishments; and even where tasks were imposed, they were of the most elegant and agreeable kind. They embroidered, they sang, they danced, and passed their times in pleasing revelry. Many were lulled by this easy and voluptuous existence; the scenes of horror through which they had passed were gradually effaced from their minds, and a desire was often awakened of rendering themselves pleasing in the eyes of their conquerors.

and know that, should I lack force to defend my honour, I have resolution to wash out all stain upon it with my blood. I trust, however, in thy courtesy as a cavalier to respect me in my reverses, remembering what I have been, and that though the crown has been wrested from my brow, the royal blood still warms within my veins.”*

The lofty spirit of Exilona, and her proud repulse, served but to increase the passion of Abdalasis. He besought her to unite her destiny with his, and share his state and power, promising that she should have no rival nor copartner in his heart. Whatever scruples the captive queen might originally have felt to a union with one of the conquerors of her lord, and an enemy of her adopted faith, they were easily vanquished, and she became the bride of Abdalasis. He would fain have persuaded her to return to the faith of her fathers; but though of Moorish origin, and brought up in the doctrines of Islam, she was too thorough a convert to christianity to consent, and looked back with disgust upon a religion that admitted a plurality of wives.

After his return from his campaign in Lusitania, and during the intervals of public duty, Abdalasis solaced himself in the repose of this palace, and in the society of these christian captives. He remarked one among them who ever sat apart; and neither joined in the labours nor sports of her companions. She was lofty in her demeanour, and the others always paid her reverence; yet sorrow had given a softness to her charms, and rendered her beauty touching to the heart. Abdalasis found her one day in the garden with her companions; they had adorned their heads with flowers, and were singing the songs of their country, but she sat by herself and When the sage Ayub heard of the resolution of wept. The youthful emir was moved by her tears, Abdalasis to espouse Exilona he was in despair. and accosted her in gentle accents. "Ŏ fairest of "Alas, my cousin!" said he, "what infatuation women!" said he, "why dost thou weep, and why possesses thee? Hast thou then entirely forgotten is thy heart troubled ?" "Alas!" replied she, the letter of thy father? Beware, my son,' said he, "have I not cause to weep, seeing how sad is myof love; it is an idle passion, which enfeebles the condition, and how great the height from which I heart and blinds the judgment.' But Abdalasis have fallen? In me you behold the wretched Exilo- interrupted him with impatience. 'My father," na, but lately the wife of Roderick, and the queen of said he, "spake but of the blandishments of wanton Spain, now a captive and a slave!" and, having said love; against these I am secured, by my virtuous these words, she cast her eyes upon the earth, and passion for Exilona." her tears began to flow afresh.

The generous feelings of Abdalasis were aroused at the sight of beauty and royalty in tears. He gave orders that Exilona should be entertained in a style befitting her former rank; he appointed a train of female attendants to wait upon her, and a guard of honour to protect her from all intrusion. All the time that he could spare from public concerns was passed in her society; and he even neglected his divan, and suffered his counsellors to attend in vain, while he lingered in the apartments and gardens of the palace, listening to the voice of Exilona.

Ayub would fain have impressed upon him the dangers he ran of awakening suspicion in the caliph, and discontent among the Moslems, by wedding the queen of the conquered Roderick, and one who was an enemy to the religion of Mahomet; but the youthful lover only listened to his passion. Their nuptials were celebrated at Seville with great pomp and rejoicings, and he gave his bride the name of Omalisam; that is to say, she of the precious jewels:† but she continued to be known among the christians by the name of Exilona.

CHAPTER XVII.

FATE OF ABDALASIS AND EXILONA.-DEATH OF
MUZA.

The discreet Ayub saw the danger into which he was falling. "Oh Abdalasis," said he, "remember the words of thy father. Beware, my son,' said he, of the seductions of love. It renders the mighty weak, and makes slaves of princes!'" A blush kindled on the cheek of Abdalasis, and he was silent for a moment. "Why," said he, at length, "do you seek to charge me with such weakness. It POSSESSION instead of cooling the passion of is one thing to be infatuated by the charms of a Abdalasis, only added to its force; he became blindwoman, and another to be touched by her misfor-ly enamoured of his beautiful bride, and consulted tunes. It is the duty of my station to console a princess who has been reduced to the lowest humiliation by the triumphs of our arms. In doing so I do but listen to the dictates of true magnanimity."

Ayub was silent, but his brow was clouded, and for once Abdalasis parted in discontent from his counsellor. In proportion as he was dissatisfied with others or with himself, he sought the society of Exilona, for there was a charm in her conversation that banished every care. He daily became more and more enamoured, and Exilona gradually ceased to weep, and began to listen with secret pleasure to the words of her Arab lover. When, however, he sought to urge his passion, she recollected the light estimation in which her sex was held by the followers of Mahomet, and assumed a countenance grave and severe.

"Fortune," said she, “has cast me at thy feet, behold I am thy captive and thy spoil. But though my person is in thy power, my soul is unsubdued,

her will in all things; nay, having lost all relish for the advice of the discreet Ayub, he was even guided by the counsels of his wife in the affairs of government. Exilona, unfortunately, had once been a queen, and she could not remember her regal glories without regret. She saw that Abdalasis had great power in the land; greater even than had been possessed by the Gothic kings; but she considered it as wanting in true splendour until his brows should be encircled with the outward badge of royalty, One day, when they were alone in the palace of Seville, and the heart of Abdalasis was given up to tenderness, she addressed him in fond yet timid accents. "Will not my lord be offended," said she, "if I make an unwelcome request? Abdalasis regarded her with a smile. "What canst thou ask

Faxardo. corona, Gothica. T. 1, P. 492. Jean Mar. de reb. Hisp. L. 6, c. 27. + Conde, p. 1. c. 17.

the populace by publishing the fatal mandate. In a moment the city was in a ferment, and there was a ferocious emulation who should be first to execute the orders of the caliph.

of me, Exilona," said he, “that it would not be a happiness for me to grant?" Then Exilona produced a crown of gold, sparkling with jewels, which had belonged to the king, Don Roderick, and said, "Behold, thou art king in authority, be so in thy Abdalasis was at this time at a palace in the counoutward state. There is majesty and glory in a try not far from Seville, commanding a delightful crown; it gives a sanctity to power." Then put-view of the fertile plain of the Guadalquivir. Hither ting the crown upon his head, she held a mirror be- he was accustomed to retire from the tumult of the fore him that he might behold the majesty of his ap- court, and to pass his time among groves and founpearance. Abdalasis chid her fondly, and put the tains and the sweet repose of gardens, in the society crown away from him, but Exilona persisted in her of Exilona. It was the dawn of day, the hour of prayer. "Never," said she, "has there been a king early prayer, when the furious populace arrived at in Spain that did not wear a crown." So Abdalasis this retreat. Abdalasis was offering up his orisons suffered himself to be beguiled by the blandishments in a small mosque which he had erected for the use of his wife, and to be invested with the crown and of the neighbouring peasantry. Exilona was in a sceptre and other signs of royalty.* chapel in the interior of the palace, where her confessor, a holy friar, was performing mass. They were both surprised at their devotions, and dragged forth by the hands of the rabble. A few guards, who attended at the palace, would have made defence, but they were overawed by the sight of the written mandate of the caliph.

It is affirmed by ancient and discreet chroniclers, that Abdalasis only assumed this royal state in the privacy of his palace and to gratify the eye of his youthful bride; but where was a secret ever confined within the walls of a palace? The assumption of the insignia of the ancient Gothic kings was soon rumoured about, and caused the most violent suspicions. The Moslems had already felt jealous of the ascendancy of this beautiful woman, and it was now confidently asserted that Abdalasis, won by her persuasions, had secretly turned christian.

The enemies of Abdalasis, those whose rapacious spirits had been kept in check by the beneficence of his rule, seized upon this occasion to ruin him. They sent letters to Damascus accusing him of apostasy, and of an intention to seize upon the throne in right of his wife, Exilona, as widow of the late King Roderick. It was added, that the christians were prepared to flock to his standard as the only means of regaining ascendancy in their country.

These accusations arrived at Damascus just after the accession of the sanguinary Suleiman to the throne, and in the height of his persecution of the unfortunate Muza. The caliph waited for no proofs in confirmation; he immediately sent private orders that Abdalasis should be put to death, and that the same fate should be dealt to his two brothers who governed in Africa, as a sure means of crushing the conspiracy of this ambitious family.

The mandate for the death of Abdalasis was sent to Abhilbar ben Obeidah and Zeyd ben Nabegat, both of whom had been cherished friends of Muza, and had lived in intimate favour and companionship with his son. When they read the fatal parchment, the scroll fell from their trembling hands. "Can such hostility exist against the family of Muza?" exclaimed they. "Is this the reward for such great and glorious services?" The cavaliers remained for some time plunged in horror and consternation. The order, however, was absolute, and left them no discretion. "Allah is great," said they, "and commands us to obey our sovereign." So they prepared to execute the bloody mandate with the blind fidelity of Moslems.

It was necessary to proceed with caution. The open and magnanimous character of Abdalasis had won the hearts of a great part of the soldiery, and his magnificence pleased the cavaliers who formed his guard; it was feared, therefore, that a sanguinary opposition would be made to any attempt upon his person. The rabble, however, had been imbittered against him from his having restrained their depredations, and because they thought him an apostate in his heart, secretly bent upon betraying them to the christians. While, therefore, the two officers made vigilant dispositions to check any movement on the part of the soldiery, they let loose the blind fury of Cron. gen. de Alonzo el Sabio, p. 3. Joan. mar. de reb. Hisp.

lib. 6. c. 27. Conde, p. 1. c. 19.

The captives were borne in triumph to Seville. All the beneficent virtues of Abdalasis were forgotten; nor had the charms of Exilona any effect in softening the hearts of the populace. The brutal eagerness to shed blood, which seems inherent in human nature, was awakened, and woe to the victims when that eagerness is quickened by religious hate. The illustrious couple, adorned with all the graces of youth and beauty, were hurried to a scaffold in the great square of Seville, and there beheaded amidst the shouts and execrations of an infatuated multitude. Their bodies were left exposed upon the ground, and would have been devoured by dogs, had they not been gathered at night by some friendly hand, and poorly interred in one of the courts of their late dwelling.

Thus terminated the loves and lives of Abdalasis and Exilona, in the year of the incarnation seven hundred and fourteen. Their names were held sacred as martyrs to the christian faith; but many read in their untimely fate a lesson against ambition and vain-glory; having sacrificed real power and substantial rule to the glittering bauble of a crown.

The head of Abdalasis was embalmed and enclosed in a casket, and sent to Syria to the cruel Suleiman. The messenger who bore it overtook the caliph as he was performing a pilgrimage to Mecca. Muza was among the courtiers in his train, having been released from prison. On opening the casket and regarding its contents, the eyes of the tyrant sparkled with malignant satisfaction. Calling the unhappy father to his side: "Muza," said he, "dost thou know this head?" The veteran recognized the features of his beloved son, and turned his face away with anguish. Yes! well do I know it," replied he; "and may the curse of God light upon him who has destroyed a better man than himself!"

Without adding another word, he retired to Mount Deran, a prey to devouring melancholy. He shortly after received tidings of the death of his two sons whom he had left in the government of western Africa, and who had fallen victims to the jealous suspicions of the caliph. His advanced age was not proof against these repeated blows, and this utter ruin of his late prosperous family, and he sank into his grave sorrowing and broken-hearted.

Such was the lamentable end of the conqueror of Spain; whose great achievements were not sufficient to atone, in the eye of his sovereign, for a weakness to which all men ambitious of renown are subject; and whose triumphs eventually brought persecution upon himself, and untimely death upon his children.

Here ends the legend of the Subjugation of Spain.

LEGEND OF COUNT JULIAN AND HIS
FAMILY.

IN the preceding legends is darkly shadowed out a true story of the woes of Spain. It is a story full of wholesome admonition, rebuking the insolence of human pride and the vanity of human ambition, and showing the futility of all greatness that is not strongly based on virtue. We have seen, in brief space of time, most of the actors in this historic drama disappearing, one by one, from the scene, and going down, conqueror and conquered, to gloomy and unhonoured graves. It remains to close this eventful history by holding up, as a signal warning, the fate of the traitor, whose perfidious scheme of vengeance brought ruin on his native land.

Many and various are the accounts given in ancient chronicles of the fortunes of Count Julian and his family, and many are the traditions on the subject still extant among the populace of Spain, and perpetuated in those countless ballads sung by peasants and muleteers, which spread a singular charm over the whole of this romantic land.

morse drove slumber from his pillow. He sent to Ceuta for his wife Frandina, his daughter Florinda, and his youthful son Alarbot; hoping in the bosom of his family to find that sympathy and kindness which he could no longer meet with in the world. Their presence, however, brought him no alleviation. Florinda, the daughter of his heart, for whose sake he had undertaken this signal vengeance, was sinking a victim to its effects. Wherever she went, she found herself a bye-word of shame and reproach. The outrage she had suffered was imputed to her as wantonness, and her calamity was magnified into a crime. The christians never mentioned her name without a curse, and the Moslems, the gainers by her misfortune, spake of her only by the appellation of Cava, the vilest epithet they could apply to woman.

But the opprobrium of the world was nothing to the upbraiding of her own heart. She charged herself with all the miseries of these disastrous wars; the deaths of so many gallant cavaliers; the conquest and perdition of her country. The anguish of her mind preyed upon the beauty of her person. Her eye, once soft and tender in its expression, became wild and haggard; her cheek lost its bloom, and became hollow and pallid, and at times there was desperation in her words. When her father He who has travelled in Spain in the true way in sought to embrace her she withdrew with shudderwhich the country ought to be travelled; sojourning ing from his arms, for she thought of his treason in its remote provinces; rambling among the rugged and the ruin it had brought upon Spain. Her defiles and secluded valleys of its mountains; and wretchedness increased after her return to her native making himself familiar with the people in their out-country, until it rose to a degree of frenzy. One of-the-way hamlets, and rarely-visited neighbour-day when she was walking with her parents in the hoods, will remember many a group of travellers and muleteers, gathered of an evening around the door or the spacious hearth of a mountain venta, wrapped in their brown cloaks, and listening with grave and profound attention to the long historic ballad of some rustic troubadour, either recited with the true ore rotundo and modulated cadences of Spanish elocution, or chaunted to the tinkling of a guitar. In this way he may have heard the doleful end of Count Julian and his family recounted in traditionary rhymes, that have been handed down from generation to generation. The particulars, however, of the following wild legend are chiefly gathered The Countess Frandina abandoned this scene of from the writings of the pseudo Moor, Rasis; how woe, and returned to Ceuta, accompanied by her infar they may be safely taken as historic facts it is im- fant son. She took with her the remains of her unpossible now to ascertain; we must content our- fortunate daughter, and gave them honourable sepselves, therefore, with their answering to the exac-ulture in a mausoleum of the chapel belonging to tions of poetic justice. the citadel. Count Julian departed for Carthagena, where he remained plunged in horror at this doleful event.

As yet every thing had prospered with Count Julian. He had gratified his vengeance; he had been successful in his treason, and had acquired countless riches from the ruin of his country. But it is not outward success that constitutes prosperity. The tree flourishes with fruit and foliage while blasted and withering at the heart. Wherever he went, Count Julian read hatred in every eye. The christians cursed him as the cause of all their woe; the Moslems despised and distrusted him as a traitor. Men whispered together as he approached, and then turned away in scorn; and mothers snatched away their children with horror if he offered to caress them. He withered under the execration of his fellow-men, and, last, and worst of all, he began to loathe himself. He tried in vain to persuade himself that he had but taken a justifiable vengeance; he felt that no personal wrong can justify the crime of treason to one's country.

garden of their palace, she entered a tower, and, having barred the door, ascended to the battlements. From thence she called to them in piercing accents, expressive of her insupportable anguish and desperate determination. Let this city," said she, "be henceforth called Malacca, in memorial of the most wretched of women, who therein put an end to her days." So saying, she threw herself headlong from the tower and was dashed to pieces. The city, adds the ancient chronicler, received the name thus given it, though afterwards softened to Malaga, which it still retains in memory of the tragical end of Florinda.

About this time, the cruel Suleiman, having destroyed the family of Muza, had sent an Arab general, named Alahor, to succeed Abdalasis as emir or governor of Spain. The new emir was of a cruel and suspicious nature, and commenced his sway with a stern severity that soon made those under his command look back with regret to the easy rule of Abdalasis. He regarded with an eye of distrust the renegado christians who had aided in the conquest, and who bore arms in the service of the Moslems; but his deepest suspicions fell upon Count Julian. "He has been a traitor to his own countrymen," said he, "how can we be sure that he will not prove traitor to us?"

A sudden insurrection of the christians who had taken refuge in the Asturian mountains, quickened his suspicions, and inspired him with fears of some For a time, he sought in luxurious indulgence to dangerous conspiracy against his power. In the soothe or forget the miseries of the mind. He as- height of his anxiety, he bethought him of an Arasembled round him every pleasure and gratification bian sage named Yuza, who had accompanied him that boundless wealth could purchase, but all in vain. from Africa. This son of science was withered in He had no relish for the dainties of his board; music form, and looked as if he had outlived the usual had no charm wherewith to lull his soul, and re-term of mortal life. In the course of his studies and

travels in the east, he had collected the knowledge and experience of ages; being skilled in astrology, and, it is said, in necromancy, and possessing the marvellous gift of prophecy or divination. To this expounder of mysteries Alahor applied to learn whether any secret treason menaced his safety.

of the chamber. She advanced tu embrace him, but he forbade her with a motion of his hand, and she observed that he was ghastly pale, and that his eyes glared as with lambent flames.

His

Touch me not, sister," said he, with a mournful voice, "lest thou be consumed by the fire which The astrologer listened with deep attention, and rages within me. Guard well thy son, for bloodoverwhelming brow, to all the surmises and suspi-hounds are upon his track. His innocence might cions of the emir, then shut himself up to consult have secured him the protection of heaven, but our his books and commune with those supernatural in-crimes have involved him in our common ruin." He telligences subservient to his wisdom. At an ap- ceased to speak and was no longer to be seen. pointed hour the emir sought him in his cell. It was coming and going were alike without noise, and the filled with the smoke of perfumes; squares and cir- door of the chamber remained fast bolted. cles and various diagrams were described upon the floor, and the astrologer was poring over a scroll of parchment, covered with cabalistic characters. He received Alahor with a gloomy and sinister aspect; pretending to have discovered fearful portents in the heavens, and to have had strange dreams and mys

tic visions.

"O emir," said he, "be on your guard! treason is around you and in your path; your life is in peril. Beware of Count Julian and his family." "Enough," said the emir. "They shall all die! Parents and children-all shall die!'

On the following morning a messenger arrived with tidings that the Bishop Oppas had been made prisoner in battle by the insurgent christians of the Asturias, and had died in fetters in a tower of the mountains. The same messenger brought word that the Emir Alahor had put to death several of the friends of Count Julian; had obliged him to fly for his life to a castle in Arragon, and was embarking with a formidable force for Ceuta.

The Countess Frandina, as has already been shown, was of courageous heart, and danger made her desperate. There were fifty Moorish soldiers in He forthwith sent a summons to Count Julian to the garrison; she feared that they would prove attend him in Cordova. The messenger found him treacherous, and take part with their countrymen. plunged in affliction for the recent death of his Summoning her officers, therefore, she informed daughter. The count excused himself, on account them of their danger, and commanded them to put of this misfortune, from obeying the commands of those Moors to death. The guards sallied forth to the emir in person, but sent several of his adherents. obey her orders. Thirty-five of the Moors were in His hesitation, and the circumstance of his having the great square, unsuspicious of any danger, when sent his family across the straits to Africa, were they were severally singled out by their executioners, construed by the jealous mind of the emir into proofs and at a concerted signal, killed on the spot. The reof guilt. He no longer doubted his being concern-maining fifteen took refuge in a tower. They saw the ed in the recent insurrections, and that he had sent armada of the emir at a distance, and hoped to be his family away, preparatory to an attempt, by force able to hold out until its arrival. The soldiers of of arms, to subvert the Moslem domination. In his the countess saw it also, and made extraordinary fury he put to death Siseburto and Evan, the neph-efforts to destroy these internal enemies before they ews of Bishop Oppas, and sons of the former king, should be attacked from without. They made reWitiza, suspecting them of taking part in the trea-peated attempts to storm the tower, but were as son. Thus did they expiate their treachery to their country in the fatal battle of the Guadalete. Alahor next hastened to Carthagena to seize upon Count Julian. So rapid were his movements that the count had barely time to escape with fifteen cavaliers, with whom he took refuge in the strong castle of Marcuello, among the mountains of Arragon. The emir, enraged to be disappointed of his prey, embarked at Carthagena and crossed the straits to Ceuta, to make captives of the Countess Frandina and her son.

often repulsed with severe loss. They then undermined it, supporting its foundations by stanchions of wood. To these they set fire and withdrew to a distance, keeping up a constant shower of missiles to prevent the Moors from sallying forth to extinguish the flames. The stanchions were rapidly consumed, and when they gave way the tower fell to the ground. Some of the Moors were crushed among the ruins; others were flung to a distance and dashed among the rocks; those who survived were instantly put to the sword.

The fleet of the emir arrived at Ceuta about the

closed against him. The countess herself spoke to him from a tower, and set him at defiance. The emir immediately laid siege to the city. He consulted the astrologer Yuza, who told him that for seven days his star would have the ascendant over that of the youth Alarbot, but after that time the youth would be safe from his power, and would effect his ruin.

The old chronicle from which we take this part of our legend, presents a gloomy picture of the count-hour of vespers. He landed, but found the gates ess in the stern fortress to which she had fled for refuge; a picture heightened by supernatural horrors. These latter, the sagacious reader will admit or reject according to the measure of his faith and judgment; always remembering that in dark and eventful times, like those in question, involving the destinies of nations, the downfall of kingdoms, and the crimes of rulers and mighty men, the hand of fate is sometimes strangely visible, and confounds the wisdom of the worldly wise, by intimations and portents above the ordinary course of things. With this proviso, we make no scruple to follow the venerable chronicler in his narration.

Alahor immediately ordered the city to be assailed on every side, and at length carried it by storm. The countess took refuge with her forces in the citadel and made desperate defence, but the walls were sapped and mined, and she saw that all resistance Now so it happened, that the countess of Frandina would soon be unavailing. Her only thoughts now was seated late at night in her chamber in the cita- were to conceal her child. "Surely," said she, "they del of Ceuta, which stands on a lofty rock, overlook- will not think of seeking him among the dead." She ing the sea. She was revolving in gloomy thought led him therefore into the dark and dismal chapel. the late disasters of her family, when she heard a mournful noise like that of the sea breeze moaning about the castle walls. Raising her eyes, she beheld her brother, the Bishop Oppas, at the entrance

"Thou art not afraid to be alone in this darkness, my child," said she.

44

'No, mother," replied the boy, "darkness gives silence and sleep." She conducted him to the tomb

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