thus spoke:--

"Why should we surrender? two hundred thousand inhabitants are yet
within our walls; of these, twenty thousand, at least, are Moors, who
have hands and swords. Why should we surrender? Famine presses us, it is
true; but hunger, that makes the lion more terrible, shall it make the
man more base? Do ye despair? so be it! despair in the valiant ought
to have an irresistible force. Despair has made cowards brave: shall it
sink the brave to cowards? Let us arouse the people; hitherto we have
depended too much upon the nobles. Let us collect our whole force, and
march upon this new city, while the soldiers of Spain are employed in
their new profession of architects and builders. Hear me, O God and
prophet of the Moslem! hear one who never was forsworn! If, Moors of
Granada, ye adopt my counsel, I cannot promise ye victory, but I
promise ye never to live without it: I promise ye, at least, your
independence--for the dead know no chains! If we cannot live, let us
so die that we may leave to remotest ages a glory that shall be more
durable than kingdoms. King of Granada! this is the counsel of Muza Ben
Abil Gazan."

The prince ceased. But he, whose faintest word had once breathed fire
into the dullest, had now poured out his spirit upon frigid and lifeless
matter. No man answered--no man moved.

Boabdil alone, clinging to the shadow of hope, turned at last towards
the audience.

"Warriors and sages!" he said, "as Muza's counsel is your king's desire,
say but the word, and, ere the hour-glass shed its last sand, the blast
of our trumpet shall be ringing through the Vivarrambla."

"O king! fight not against the will of fate--God is great!" replied the
chief of the alfaquis.

"Alas!" said Abdelmelic, "if the voice of Muza and your own falls thus
coldly upon us, how can ye stir the breadless and heartless multitude?"

"Is such your general thought and your general will?" said Boabdil.

An universal murmur answered, "Yes!"

"Go then, Abdelmelic;" resumed the ill-starred king; "go with yon
Spaniards to the Christian camp, and bring us back the best terms you
can obtain. The crown has passed from the head of El Zogoybi; Fate
sets her seal upon my brow. Unfortunate was the commencement of my
reign--unfortunate its end. Break up the divan."

The words of Boabdil moved and penetrated an audience, never till then
so alive to his gentle qualities, his learned wisdom, and his natural
valour. Many flung themselves a