rlike form. What, though no sculptured marble was there to
point out the noble dust that lay beneath; the name of the warrior will
live in the hearts of his countrymen, and will be handed to posterity as
long as the records of Spain shall exist. But, in the absence of the
pomp which marks the burial of the illustrious, Don Alonso received the
most honorable tribute that can adorn a warrior's grave--the manly and
venerating tear of his mortal foe; for, as the earth covered for ever
the remains of Aguilar, the silent tear of noble feeling fell on it
from the eye of El Feri de Benastepar.

Meantime the Christians at the foot of the mountain were making a
precipitate retreat, carrying with them a number of their wounded
companions, and leaving behind a terrible monument of their bravery and
misfortune.

How imposing is the calm, when the warm activity of action gives place
to the desolate repose of death! Now, the din of strife is over; no
longer the brazen notes of the trumpet swell in the wind--no longer the
echoes of the mountain rehearse and fling back the warlike sounds.
Hushed is the voice of command and animation--mute the cries of victory
or defeat. Even the howling blast, which lately, with its fitful voice,
increased the terrors of the scene, is now softened into a low and
mournful murmur, emblematical of the dismal tranquillity that reigns
around. The smiling face of nature is bloted and defaced by the
truculent works of men. The rich and reviving green that carpeted the
ground, now presents to the view an ensanguined plain, and the smiling
flowers, emblems of innocence and peace, bear no longer in their calice
the pearly moisture of the morn, but display the crimson evidence of
man's hatred to his kind. The soft grass is not now ruffled by the
welcome pressure of living individuals, happy in the joyous dance, or
gently reclining under the sweet influence of slumber, but by the weight
of ghastly corpses.

It was a sight fearful to behold! not a sound was heard; an unnatural
sadness prevailed over the scene; a thousand warriors lay there in the
silence of the grave, but in those colourless features still lingered a
tinge of the last feeling by which they were animated--the last passion
that raged within; the brow stiffened into gloomy fierceness--the eye
intensely fixed with bold resolve--the firmly clenched hand--bespoke the
various sensations in which they were surprised by death. Tranquil and
extended lay so