7. It was the middle of April before Columbus reached Barcelona. The nobility and cavaliers in attendance on the court, together with the authorities of the city, came to the gates to receive him, and escorted him to the royal presence. Ferdinand and Isabella were seated, with their son, Prince John, under a superb canopy of state, awaiting his arrival.

8. On his approach they rose from their seats, and, extending their hands to him to salute, caused him to be seated before them. These were unprecedented marks of condescension to a person of Columbus's rank, in the haughty and ceremonious court of Castile. It was indeed the proudest moment in the life of Columbus. He had fully established the truth of his long-contested theory, in the face of argument, sophistry, sneer, skepticism, and contempt. He had achieved this, not by chance, but by calculation, supported through the most adverse circumstances by consummate conduct. The honors paid him—which had hitherto been reserved only for rank, or fortune, or military success purchased by the blood and tears of thousands-were, in his case, a homage to intellectual power successfully exerted in behalf of the noblest interests of humanity.

9. After a brief interval, the sovereigns requested from Columbus a recital of his adventures. His manner was sedate and dignified, but warmed by the glow of natural enthusiasm. He enumerated the several islands which he had visited, expatiated on the temperate character of the climate and the capacity of the soil for every variety of agricultural production, appealing to the samples imported by him as evidence of their natural fruitfulness. He dwelt more at large on the precious metals to be found in these islands, which he inferred less from the specimens

actually obtained than from the uniform testimony of the natives to their abundance in the unexplored regions of the interior. Lastly, he pointed out the wide scope afforded to Christian zeal in the illumination of a race of men whose minds, far from being wedded to any system of idolatry, were prepared by their extreme simplicity for the reception of pure and uncorrupted doctrine.

10. The last consideration touched Isabella's heart most sensibly; and the whole audience, kindled with various emotions by the speaker's eloquence, filled up the perspective with the gorgeous coloring of their own fancies, as ambition or avarice or devotional feeling predominated in their bosoms. When Columbus ceased, the king and queen, together with all present, prostrated themselves on their knees in grateful thanksgivings, while the solemn strains of the Te Deum were poured forth by the choir of the royal chapel, as in commemoration of some glorious victory.

Ăr

DEFINITIONS.—1. Skěp ́ti çîşm, doubt; unbelief. Pre lím ́i na ry, introductory. 2. De serỹ ́ing, discovering. 4. De spond ́ing, losing hope. Prē ter năt ́ū ral, beyond the ordinary course of nature. Grăt ū la'tion, an expression of joy; congratulation. 5. Mŭl ti fa'ri oŭs, various. Erude, in its natural state. Ex ŏt'ies, productions of foreign origin. Ar o măt ́ie, fragrant. Păgeant, a display or exhibition. 7. Eăv a liers', knights. 8. Un prēç'e dent ed, without example. The o ry, doctrine; speculation. Soph'ist ry, false reasoning. Єon sŭm'mate, perfect. 9. Se date', composed; calm. Expā ́ţă at ed, enlarged in discourse. Scope, extended area; range or opportunity.

51. THE EVE OF ST. AGNES.

JOHN KEATS was born in London, October 29, 1796. He was educated at a private school at Enfield. His earlier poems evince a rich though undisciplined imagination, but the grandeur and sublimity of his later works place him in the first rank of English poets. The Eve of St. Agnes,

from which the following extract is taken, has been called ": a perfect study in pure color and clear melody." He died at Rome, February 23, 1821, of consumption.

1. ST. AGNES' EVE! Ah, bitter chill it was!

The owl, for all his feathers, was a-cold;

The hare limped trembling through the frozen grass,
And silent was the flock in woolly fold;
Numb were the beadsman's fingers while he told
His rosary, and while his frosted breath,
Like pious incense from a censer old,

Seemed taking flight for heaven without a death,
Past the sweet Virgin's picture, while his prayer he saith.

2. Out went the taper as she hurried in :

*

Its little smoke in pallid moonshine died ;
She closed the door; she panted, all akin
To spirits of the air and visions wide:
No uttered syllable, or woe betide!
But to her heart her heart was voluble,

Paining with eloquence her balmy side,

As though a tongueless nightingale should swell Her throat in vain, and die, heart-stifled, in her dell.

3. A casement high and triple-arched there was,
All garlanded with carven imageries

Of fruits and flowers and bunches of knot-grass,
And diamonded with panes of quaint device,
Innumerable of stains and splendid dyes,

As are the tiger-moth's deep-damasked wings;
And in the midst, 'mong thousand heraldries,
And twilight saints, and dim emblazonings,

*

A shielded scutcheon blushed with blood of queens and

kings.

4. Full on this casement shone the wintry moon,

And threw warm gules on Madeline's fair breast,
As down she knelt for heaven's grace and boon;
Rose-bloom fell on her hands, together prest,
And on her silver cross soft amethyst,
And on her hair a glory, like a saint:

She seemed a splendid angel newly drest,
Save wings, for heaven. Porphyro grew faint:
She knelt so pure a thing, so free from mortal taint.

DEFINITIONS.-1. Beadş'măn, a man employed in praying, generally for another. Ro'şa ry, a series of prayers, and a string of beads by which they are counted. Çens'er, a vase in which incense is burned. 2. Vŏl'u ble, rapid in speech. Dell, a small retired valley. 3. Quaint, odd; fanciful. Dăm'asked, highly adorned. Heraldries, armorial devices. Seŭtch'eon, an escutcheon; a shield covered with armorial devices. 4. Gūles, a red color indicated on escutcheons and the like by straight perpendicular lines.

NOTE.-1. St. Agnes' Eve. St. Agnes is the patron saint of innocence and maiden purity. Her day, as set apart in the calendar, is January 21.

52. THE CULPRIT FAY.

JOSEPH RODMAN DRAKE was born in New York City, August 7, 1795. He chose the medical profession, and after completing his studies went for some little time to Europe. In 1819 he visited New Orleans, in hopes of re-establishing his health, which was delicate. It was of little avail, and he died in 1820, in the twenty-sixth year of his age. He began to write verses when very young, keeping his authorship a secret for some years. His poems were published in book-form after his death. This collection includes, besides the American Flag and The Culprit Fay, a number of short pieces. The Culprit Fay, from which we quote, was written in consequence of a remark made to Drake by a friend-" that it would be difficult to write a fairy-poem, purely imaginary, without the aid of human characters."

1. 'Tis the middle watch of a summer's night: The earth is dark, but the heavens are bright; Naught is seen in the vault on high

But the moon, and the stars, and the cloudless sky,

And the flood which rolls its milky hue,
A river of light on the welkin blue.
The moon looks down on old Cronest:

She mellows the shades on his shaggy breast,
And seems his huge gray form to throw
In a silver cone on the wave below;
His sides are broken by spots of shade,
By the walnut-bough and the cedar made,
And through their clustering branches dark
Glimmers and dies the fire-fly's spark,

Like starry twinkles that momently break
Through the rifts of the gathering tempest's rack.

2. The stars are on the moving stream,

And fling, as its ripples gently flow,

A burnished length of wavy beam

In an eel-like, spiral line below ;
The winds are whist, and the owl is still,
The bat in the shelvy rock is hid,
And naught is heard on the lonely hill
But the cricket's chirp and the answer shrill

Of the gauze-winged katydid,

And the plaint of the wailing whip-poor-will,
Who moans unseen and ceaseless sings,
Ever a note of wail and woe,

Till morning spreads her rosy wings,
And earth and sky in her glances glow.

3. 'Tis the hour of fairy ban and spell;
The wood-tick has kept the minutes well.
He has counted them all with click and stroke
Deep in the heart of the mountain-oak,