The Knickerbocker, or New-York Monthly Magazine, May 1844 | Page 7

what help now! He had gone that way of his; and Nature had also gone her way. Having once parted with reality, he tumbles helpless in vacuity; no rescue for him. He had to sink there mournfully as man seldom did; and break his great heart and die--this poor Napoleon; a great implement too soon wasted, till it was useless; our last Great Man!

THE FLORAL RESURRECTION.
BY THE SHEPHERD OF SHARONDALE.
Welcome, sweet flowers! bright Summer's poetry! I hail your fragrant coming, and again With joy I read your brilliant imagery Written once more in nature's holiest strain: The lowly cottage, and the princely hall Your advent cherisheth--ye are all to all.
Rising in glory from their winter graves, The painted Tulip comes, and Daisy fair, And o'er the brook the fond Narcissus waves Her golden cup--her image loving there. Those early flowers their glowing tributes bring To weave a chaplet round the brow of Spring.
The sultry sun of June looks down, and then Comes forth the lovely rose, the garden's pride, To herald summer over glade and glen, O'er wild and waste, o'er mead and mountain side: Proudly she rears her crest on high, the vain And gay pursuivant of a brilliant train.
And now, bright Dahlia, heartless one, appear! Thy time has come to join the festival: Come, Peru's daughter, belle of night! dost fear To wear in glorious day thy coronal? And thou, pale exile from the holy land, Imperial Lily! come and join the band!
See, o'er the lattice creeps the Eglantine, And there the Jasmine clambers up the wall To twine her wreaths with Flora's blushing queen, Rejoicing all in summer's carnival: How kind of them to deck the shepherd's cot, And with their presence cheer his humble lot!
I love ye, flowers; your odors ever bring Back visions of the past: I love ye well; From the lone Primrose, nursling of the Spring, Unto the beauteous Aster, Autumn's belle, Or reared on verdant field, or ruined wall, I love ye all, sweet flowers!--I love ye all!

THE LEGEND OF DON RODERICK.
NUMBER THREE.
The scattered fugitives of the Christian army spread terror throughout the land. The inhabitants of the towns and villages gathered around them as they applied at their gates for food, or laid themselves down, faint and wounded, beside the public fountains. When they related the tale of their defeat, old men shook their heads and groaned, and the women uttered cries and lamentations. So strange and unlooked-for a calamity filled them with consternation and despair; for it was long since the alarm of war had sounded in their land: and this was a warfare that carried chains and slavery, and all kinds of horrors, in its train.
Don Roderick was seated with his beauteous queen, Exilona, in the royal palace which crowned the rocky summit of Toledo, when the bearer of ill-tidings came galloping over the bridge of the Tagus. 'What tidings from the army?' demanded the king, as the panting messenger was brought into his presence. 'Tidings of great wo!' exclaimed the soldier. 'The prince has fallen in battle. I saw his head and surcoat upon a Moorish lance; and the army was overthrown and fled!'
At hearing these words, Roderick covered his face with his hands, and for some time sat in silence; and all his courtiers stood mute and aghast, and no one dared to speak a word. In that awful space of time passed before his thoughts all his errors and his crimes, and all the evil that had been predicted in the necromantic tower. His mind was filled with horror and confusion, for the hour of his destruction seemed at hand: but he subdued his agitation by his strong and haughty spirit; and, when he uncovered his face, no one could read on his brow the trouble and agony of his heart. Still, every hour brought fresh tidings of disaster. Messenger after messenger came spurring into the city, distracting it with new alarms. The infidels, they said, were strengthening themselves in the land; host after host were pouring in from Africa: the sea-coast of Andalusia glittered with spears and scimitars. Bands of turbaned horsemen had overrun the plains of Sidonia, even to the banks of the Guadiana. Fields were laid waste, towns and cities plundered, the inhabitants carried into captivity, and the whole country lay in smoking desolation.
Roderick heard all these tidings with an undaunted aspect; nor did he ever again betray sign of consternation: but the anxiety of his soul was evident in his warlike preparations. He issued orders that every noble and prelate of his kingdom should put himself at the head of his retainers, and take the field; and that every man capable of bearing arms should hasten to his standard, bringing whatever horse, and mule, and weapon he possessed: and he appointed the