WASHINGTON IRVING'S CONQUEST OF GRANADA.!

'` Bow is thy strength departed, oh Granada! how is thy beauty withered and despoiled, oh city of groves and fountains! The com merce that once thronged thy streets is at an end : the merchant no longer hastens to thy gates, with the luxuries of foreign lands; the cities which once paid thee homage are wrested from thy sway ; the chivalry which tilled thy vivarrambla with the sumptuous pageantry of war, have fallen in many battles ; the Alhambra still rears its ruddy towers from the midst of groves, but melancholy reigns in its marble halls; and the monarch looks down from his lofty battlements upon a naked waste, where once extended the blooming glories of the Vega!'

Assuredly that literature must be very rich, or the reigning taste very bad, where a book like WASHINGTON IRVING'S Conquest of Granada can appear without concentrating upon it for a time at least the attention of the reading world. In casting an eye over the publications of the season, with a view to correct any of the errors of omission which must necessarily occur in a general periodical like our own, and which are still worth the pains of retrieving, our attention was arrested by the combination of the two celebrated names of subject and author which adorn the title-page of I ha work before us. The pleasure and the profit we have derived in perusing the romantic annals of Granada, induce us to ask the reading public to turn a few. weeks back upon its steps, and take up the study of a book which we fear has occupied too small a portion of its atttntion. "How is thy strength departed, oh Granada! how is thy beauty withered and despoiled, oh city of groves and fountains!" when the echo of thy sad history will not arrest the loitering footsteps of the modern student.

The author of the Conquest of Granada assumes the modest guise of a translator: it is, hoWev-er, plain to discern, that the "worthy Agapida' whose chronicle Mr. IRVING proposes to himself to reduce into English, is but a stalking-horse. In adopting the rude and simple style of a chronicler, the author has exerted the discrimination of a critic, in selecting his materials from various sources, and not neglecting even to exercise the philosophy of the present age upon the prejudices of the fifteenth centiny. At the same time, it is so artfully introduced, that the simplicity of his model is nowhere disturbed, and. a careless reader will only be conscious of its influence. The aim of the writer has evidently been to reproduce the dramatic force of the old chronicle, its picturesque vivacity, its straightforward and manly beariug, without wearying the reader with its copious details of matter that has' loSt its interest, without its puerile reflections and its vulgar superstitions, in short without its rudeness and barbarity ;—a knight shining in the armour of his time, stout, brave and generous, but neither brutal in his violence nor coarse in his ignorance. As this is a knight which perhaps never existed, so is this a chronicle which required two ages to produce it—the fifteenth century for the materials, and the nineteenth for taste and skill to combine them.

The beauties of the old Chronicles. cifianw.)peawhether of France or Spain or England,-Iire—OiiVIO be gathered by toil and patience ; and it Is not unfrequent that disgust overbalances the pleasure of the task. An idea has occurred of modernizingthem—of reassembling all their remarkable traits, of reconceiving their action, and of chastening their s.pirit, by passing them througha modern retort. M. de B_ARANTE ill Ins History of Duke of Burgundy, led the way. In his own country he has been largely followed. Mr. IRVING has given us a sample from the fruitful annals of Spain. Without his originals, this elegant writer could probably never have painted the characters of such men as the wily old King Muley Aben Hassan, or his fitful son MAUL the Unlucky, nor yet the brave and fierce El Zagal, or his courageous lieutenant Hamet El Zegri. These are pictures only to be drawn by men who have contemplated the originals, and who, by a few rough and tint-marking strokes, know how to paint the qualities of men in their own times. It required, too, a chronicler to set before us with the vivacity of life such scenes as the seizure of Zahara, the capture of Alhama, the battle of Lucena, and many others in these, volumes ; but what chronicler coulA baveaamyes1 his intalligannaln. the exquisite style of Mr. lavialar and which of them could have so often entertained and so seldom wearied us ? The author has eyen conttived to turn their absurdities to account: when an old writer has remarkably exposed the force of his ignorance or his superstition, the Passage is interweaved in the narrative in a manner to need no commentary. It would be difficult to select a work written in a style of more curious beauty. It has the elegant selection of phrase, the lucidness, and the flow of modern composition, while a hue of antiquity is thrown over the whole, harmonizing well with the subject and • assisting the delusion of the reader, who requires but slight aid to faney himself among the mailed warriors and marbled walls of Old Spam. The author has put forward in his title-page the MSS. of "Fray Antonio Agapida ;" but we fancy the Spanish scholar would look in vain for passages of such beautiful composition as the following, for example. " The morning sun rose upon a piteous scene before the walls of Baza. * A Chronicle of the Conquest of Granada. From the MSS. of Fray Antonio Aga Ma. By Waaliington Irving. 3 vols. London, In29. Murray. The Christian outposts, harassed throughout the night, were pale and haggard ; while the multitude of slain, which lay before their palisadoes, showed the fierce attacks they had sustained, and the bravery of their defence.

"Beyond them lay the groves and gardens of Baza ; once the favourite resorts for recreation and delight, now a scene of horror and desolation. The towers and pavilions were smoking ruins ; the canals and watercourses were discoloured with blood, and choked with the bodies of the slain. Here and there the ground, deep dinted with the tramp of man and steed, and plashed and slippery with gore, showed where there had been some fierce and mortal • conflict ; while the bodies of Moors and Christians, ghastly in death, lay half concealed among the matted and trampled shrubs, and flowers, and herbage."

Or the following, where there is not only an historical but a moral picture conveyed in the well-chosen words.

" Evil tidings never fail by the way through lack of messengers. They are wafted on the wings of the wind ; and it is as if the very birds of the air would bear them to the ear of the unfortunate. The old king, El Zacml, buried himself in the recesses of his castle, to hide himself from the light of day, which no longer shone prosperously upon him ; but every hour brought missives, thundering at the gate with the tale of some new disaster. Fortress after fortress had laid its keys at the feet of the Christian sovereigns. Strip by strip of warrior mountain and green fruitful valley was torn from his domains, and added to the territories of the conquerors. Scarcely a remnant remained to him, except a tract of the Alpuxarras, and the noble cities of Civadix and Almeria. No one any longer stood in awe of the fierce old monarch : the terror of his frown had declined with his power. He had arrived at that stage of adversity, when a man's friends feel emboldened to tell him hard truths, and to give him unpalatable advice, and when his spirit is bowed down to listen quietly, if not meekly."

Again, the plain surrounding Granada is thus beautifully described

" The glory of the city, however, was its Vega, or plain, which spread out to a circumference of thirty-seven leagues, surrounded by lofty mountains. It was a vast garden of delight, refreshed by numerous fountains, and by the silver windings of the Xenil. The labour and ingenuity of the Moors had diverted the waters of this river into thousands of rills and streams, and diffused them over the whole surface of the plain. Indeed they had wrought up this happy region to a degree of wonderful prosperity, and took a pride in deemating it, as if it had been a favourite mistress. The hills were clothed with orchards and vineyards, the valleys embroidered with gardens, and the wide plains covered with waving grain. Here were seen in profusion the orange, the citron, the fig and promegranate, with large plantations of mulberry trees, from which was produced the finest of silk The vine clambered from tree to tree, the grapes hung in rich clusters about the peasant's cottage, and the groves were rejoiced by the perpetual song of the nightingale. In a word, so beautiful was the earth, so pure the air, and so serene the sky of this delicious melon, that the Moors imagined the paradiseof their prophet to be situate in that part of the heaven which overhung the kingdom of Granada."

Such charming little portions as these are the reward of the attentive reader, who will lay aside for a week the feverish publications of the fashionable season.

We have spoken of style; the matter shall speak for itself. It would be vain to attempt any analysis of the ten years of bloody foray that preceded the final expulsion of the Moors from the South of Spain ; but we can show exactly the stuffs of which they are made by two interesting extracts. The first is a description of a solitary warrior returning from the field of strife, the bearer of evil news as he passes from the city : it is a morsel not to be excelled in the history of the heroes of either Leuctra or Mantinam. The other passage is one peculiarly touching the national vanity. It seems that in the person of the stout Earl of RIVERS, England has once before assisted Spain in the ejection of the invader : it is truly upon a smaller scale, but England was never more accurately represented by IV ELLINWPON and his armies than in the bravery and humour of the salwart knight Lord SCALES, Earl of Rivaas. The account of his bearing and prowess here is the most perfect picture of English chivalry that exists in any author. "We did uot look over it among the mouldy MSS. of a Spanish convent.

THE LAMENTATION OF THE MOORS FOR THE BATTLE OF LUCENA.

"The sentinels looked out from the watch-towers of Loxa, along the valley of the Xenil, which passes through the mountains of A1,7aringo. They looked, to behold the king returning in triumph, at the head of his shining host, laden with the spoil of the unbeliever. They looked, to behold the standard of their warlike idol, the fierce All Atar, borne by the chivalry of Loxa, ever foremost in the wars of the border.

" In the evening of the 21st of April, they descried a single horseman, urging his faltering steed along the banks of the river. As he drew near, they perceived, by the flash of arms, that he was a warrior ; and, on nearer approach, by the richness of his armour, and the caparison of his steed, they knew him to be-a warrior of rank.

" He reached Loxa faint and aghast ; his Arabian courser covered with foam and dust and blood, panting and staggering with fatigue, and gashed with wounds. Having brought his master in safety, he sunk down and died, before the gate of the city. The soldiers at the gate gathered round the cavalier, as he stood, mute and melancholy, by his expiring steed. They knew him to be the gallant Cidi Caleb, nephew of the chief alfaqui of the albaycen of Granada. When the people of Loxa beheld this noble cavalier thus alone, haggared and dejected, their hearts were filled with fearfol forebodings.

" Cavalier,' said they, 'how fares it with the king and army ? ' He cast his hand mournfully towards the land of the Christians. There they lie ! ' exclaimed he : 'time heavens have fallen upon them ! all are lost ! all dead !'

" Upon this, there was a great cry of consternation among the people, and lord wailings of women ; for the flower of the youth of Luxe 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 tier son. His replies were still of wounds and death. To one he replied, I sww. thy father pierced with a lance,

as he defended the person of the king: 1To another, 'Thy brother fell

wounded under the hoofs of the horses ; butithere was no time to aid him, for the Christian cavalry were upon us.' To it 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 aloudepon Allah in the coidettf the waters: when I reached the other bank, he was no longer by my side I '

" The noble Cidi Caleb passaisaan, leaving Granada in lamentation. He urged his steed up the steep avenue of trees and fountains, that leads to the

Alhambra, nor stepped 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 triumphant 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 inirador, 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, sorrouncled 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 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 bast departed is solitary ; never will it be gladdened by thy return ! The mountain thou hest traversed lies like a cloud in the distance, and all beyond it is darkness !'

"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 fountitins 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

" rihus all Granada, says 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 deRvn in the freslis ness 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."

DESCRIPTION OF AN ENGLISH WARRIOR OF THE FIFTEENTH CENTURY IN FOREIGN SERVICE.

"The most conspicuous of the volunteers, however, who appeared in Cordova on this occasion, was an English knight of royal connexion. This was the Lord Scales, Earl of Rivers, related to the Queen of England, wife of Henry VII. "He 'had distinguished himself in the preceding year, at the battle of Bosworth Field, where Henry Tudor, then Earl of Richmond, over came Richard That decisive battle having left the country at peace, the Earl of Rivers retaioing a passion for warlike scenes, repairetito the Castilian court, to keep hilt arms in exercise in a campaign against the Moors. He brought with hint a hundred archers, all dexterous with the long bow and the cloth yard arronn; also two hundred yeomen armed cap it pi?, who fought with pike and battleaxe; men robust of frame, and of prodigious strength.

"The worthy Padre Fray Antonio Agapida describes this stranger knight and his followers with his accustomed accuracy and minuteness This ca

valier,' he observes, ''was from the island of England, and brought with him a train of his vassals ; men who had been hardened in certain civil wars which had raged in their country. They were a comely race of men, but too fair and fresh for warriors ; not having the sunburnt, martial hue of our old Castilian soldiery. They were huge feeders also, and deep carousers; and could not accommodate themselves to the sober diet of our troops, but must fain eat and drink after the manner of their own country. They were often noisy and unruly, also, in their wassail ; and their quarter of the camp was prone to be a scene of loud revel and sudden brawl. They were withal of great pride ; yet it was not like our inflammable Spanish pride : they stood not much upon the pundmwr and high punctilio, and rarely drew the stiletto in their disputes ; but their pride was silent and contumelious. Though from a remote and somewhat barbarous island, they yet believed themselves the most perfect men upon earth; and magnified their chieftain, the Lord Scales, beyond the greatest of our grandees. With all this, it must be said of them, that they were marvellous good men in the field, dexterous archers, and powerful with the battleaxe. In their great pride and self will, they always sought to mess in the advance, and take the post of danger, trying to outvie our Spanish chivalry. They did not rush forward fiercely, or make a brilliant onset, like the Moorish and Spanish troops, but they went into the fight deliberately, and persisted obstinately, and were slow to find out when they were beaten. Withal, they were much esteemed, yet little liked, by our soldiery, who considered them stanch companions in the field, yet coveted but little fellowship with them in the camp.

" ' Their commander, the Lord Scales, was an accomplished cavalier, of gracious and noble presence, and fair speech. It was a marvel to see so much courtesy in a knight brought up so tar from our Castilian court. He was honoured by the king and queen, and found great favour with the fair dames about the court ; who, indeed, are rather prone to be pleased with foreign cavaliers. He went always in costly state, attended by pages and esquires, and accompanied by noble young cavaliers of his country:, who had enrolled themselves under his banner, to learn the gentle exercise of arms. In all pageants and festivals, the eyes of the populace were attracted by the singular bearing and rich array of the English earl and his train, who prided themselves in always appearing in the garb and-manner of their country and were indeed something very magnificent, delectable, and strange to behold.'" 1 "At this critical juncture, King Ferdinand emerged from the Mountains with the main body of the army, and advanced to aiaearinence -commanding a full view of the field of/Option. By his side was the noble English cavalier-, the:Earl of Rivers. This was the first time he had witnessed a scene of Moorish warfare. He looked with eager . interest et the chance medley fight before him,--the wild career of cavalry, the irregular and tumultuous rush of infantry, and Christian helm and moorish turban Intermingling in deadly struggle. His high blood mounted at-the sight; and his very soul was stirred within him, by the confused war cries, the clangour of drums and trumpets, and the reports of arquebuses, that came echoing up the mountains. Seeing the king was sending a reinforcement to the field, lie eptreated permission to mingle in the affray, and fight according to the fashion of his country. Ills request being granted, he alighted from his steed. He was merely armed en blanco ; that is to say, with morion, back piece, and breastplate ; his sword

was girded by his side, and In his hand he wielded a powerful battleaxe. Ile was followed by a body of his yeomen, armed in like manner, and by a band of archers, with bows made of the tough English yew tree. The earl turned to his troops, and addressed them briefly and bluntly, according to the manner of his country. 'Remember, my merry men all,' said he 'the eyes of strangers are upon you ; you are in a foreign land, fighting for the glory of God and the honour of merry old England ! ' A loud shout was the reply. The earl waved his battleaxe over his head. 'Saint George for England l' cried he; and, to the inspiring sound of this old English war cry, he and his followers rushed down to the battle, with manly and 'courageous hearts.

"They soon made their way into the midst of the enemy ; but, when engaged in the hottest of the fight, they made no shouts or outcries. They pressed steadily forward, dealing their blows to right and left, hewing down the Moors, and cutting their way with their battleaxes, like woodmen in a forest ; while the archers, pressing into the opening they made, plied their bows vigorously, and spread death on every side."

"The Earl of Rivers, notwithrtanding he had received a wound, still urged forward in the attack. He peaetrated almost.to the city gate, in defiance of a shower of missiles, that sieve many of his followers. A stone, hurled from the battlements, checked his impetuous career. It struck him in the face, dashed out two of his front teeth, and laid him senseless on the earth. Ile was removed to a short distance by his men; but recovering his senses, refused to permit himself to be taken from the suburb.

" Whets the conquest was over, the streets presented a piteous spectacle, so many of their inhabitants had died in the defence of their thresholds, or

been slaughtered without resistance. Among the victims was a poor weaver, who had WO% at work in his dwelling at this turbulent moment. His wife urged him to fly into the city. 'Why should I fly ?' said the Moor, 'to be

reserved forstUnger and slavery ? I tell you, wife, I will abide here; for better is it to 4W quickly by the steel, than to perish piecemeal in chains and dungeons.' 1-ip said no more, but resumed his occupation of weaving; and, in the indiseriminate fury of the assault, was slaughtered at his loom. "The Clirtattans remained masters of the field, and proceeded to pitch three encampments for the prosecution of the siege. The king, with the great body of the army' took a position on the side of the city next to Granada. The Marquis or Cadiz and his brave companions once more pitched their Ients upon the height of Santo Albohacin ; Nat the English earl planted his standard sturdily within the suburb he had taken."