"The words were to me so many pearls of eloand his voice sweeter to iny ears than quence, sugar to the taste. The reflection on the misfortune which these verses brought on me, has often made me applaud Plato's design of banishing all poets from a good and well governed commonwealth, especially those who write wantonly or lasciviously. For, instead of composing lamentable verses, like those of the Marquis of Mantua, that make the women and children cry by the fireside, they try their utmost skill on such soft strokes as enter the soul, and wound it, like that thunder which hurts and consumes all within, yet leaves the garment sound. Another time, he entertained me with the following song: A SONG. 'Death, put on some kind disguise, And at once my heart surprise; For 'tis such a curse to live, And so great a bliss to die, "Many other verses of this kind he plied me with, which charmed when read, but transported when sung. For, you must know, that, when our eminent poets debase themselves to the writing a sort of composure called love-madrigals and roundelays, now much in vogue in Candaya, those verses are no sooner heard, than they presently produce a dancing of souls, tickling of fancies, emotion of spi rits, and, in short, a pleasing distemper in the whole body, as if quicksilver shook it in every part. "So that, once more, I pronounce those poets very dangerous, and fit to be banished to the Isles of Lizards; though, truly, I must confess, the fault is rather chargeable on those foolish people that commend, and the silly wenches that believe them. For, had I been as cautious as my place required, his amorous serenades could never have moved me; nor would I have believed his poetical cant, such as, I dying live, I burn in ice, I shiver in flames, I hope in despair, I go yet stay; with a thousand such contradictions, which make up the greatest part of those kind of compositions. As ridiculous are their promises of the Phoenix of Arabia, Ariadne's crown, the coursers of the sun, the pearls of the southern ocean, the gold of Tagus, the balsam of Panchaya, and heaven knows what! By the way, it is observable, that these poets are very liberal of their gifts, which they know they never can make good. "But whither, wo's me! whither do I wander, miserable woman? What madness prompts me to accuse the faults of others, having so long a score of my own to answer for! Alas! not his verses, but my own inclination; not his music, but my own levity; not his wit, but my own folly, opened a passage, and levelled the way for Don Clavijo, (for that was the name of the knight.) In short, I procured him admittance; and, by my connivance, he very often had natural familiarity with Antonomasia, who, poor lady, was rather deluded by me, than by him. But, wicked as I was, it was upon the honourable score of marriage; for, had he not been engaged to be her husband, he should not have touched the very shadow of her shoe-string. No, no; matrimony, matrimony, I say; for, without that, I will never meddle in any such concern. The greatest fault in this business, was the disparity of their conditions, he being but a private knight, and she heiress to the crown. Now, this intrigue was kept very close for some time, by my cautious management; but, at last, a certain kind of swelling in Antonomasia's belly began to tell tales; so that, consulting upon the matter, we found there was but one way; Don Clavijo should demand the young lady in marriage before the curate, * by virtue of a promise under her hand, which I dictated for the purpose, and so binding, that all the strength of Samson himself could not have broken the tie. The business was put in execution, the note was produced before the priest, who, examining the lady, and finding her confession to agree with the tenor of the contract, put her in custody of a very honest serjeant."-" Bless us," quoth Sancho," serjeants too, and poets, and songs, and verses, in your country! o' my conscience, I think the world is the same all the world over. But go on, Madam Trifaldi, I beseech you, for it is late, and I am upon thorns till I know the end of this * In Spain, when a young couple have promised each other marriage, and the parents obstruct it, either party may have recourse to the vicar, who, examining the case, has full power to bring them together; and this it is the countess ridiculously alludes to in her story. long-winded story."-"I will," answered the coun Where Trifaldi continues her stupendous and memorable Story. IF If every word that Sancho spoke gave the duchess new pleasure, every thing he said put Don Quixote to as much pain; so that he commanded him silence, and gave the matron opportunity to go on. "In short," said she," the business was debated a good while; and, after many questions and answers, the princess firmly persisting in her first declaration, judgment was given in favour of Don Clavijo, which Queen Maguntia, her mother, took so to heart, that we buried her about three days after."" Then, without doubt, she died," quoth Sancho." That is a clear case,” replied Trifaldin; "for, in Candaya, they do not use to bury the living, but the dead."-" But, with your good leave, Mr Squire," answered Sancho, "people that were in a swoon have been buried alive before now; and methinks Queen Maguntia should only have swooned away, and not have been in such haste to have died in good earnest; for, while there is life there is hope, and there is a remedy for all things but death. I do not find the young lady was so much out of the way neither, that the mother should lay it so grievously to heart. Indeed, had she married a footman, or some other servant in the family, as I am told many others have done, it had been a very bad business, and past curing; but, for the queen to make such a heavy outcry, when her daughter married such a fine-bred young knight, faith and troth, I think the business had better been made up. It was a slip, but not such a heinous one as one would think; for, as my master here says, and he will not let me tell a lie, as of scholars they make bishops, so of your knights, (chiefly if they be errant) one may easily make kings and emperors." "That is most certain," said Don Quixote: "Turn a knight-errant loose into the wide world, with twopenny-worth of good fortune, and he is in potentia propinqua (proxima I would say) the greatest emperor in the world. But, let the lady proceed, for hitherto her story has been very pleasant, and I doubt the most bitter part of it is still untold.""The most bitter, truly, sir," answered she; “and so bitter, that wormwood, and every bitter herb, compared to it, are as sweet as honey. "The queen being really dead," continued she, ❝ and not in a trance, we buried her; and, scarce had we done her the last offices, and taken our last leave, when (quis talia fando temperet a lachrymis ? who can relate such woes, and not be drowned in tears?) the giant Malambruno, cousin-german to the deceased queen, who, besides his native cruelty, was also a magician, appeared upon her grave, mounted on a wooden horse, and, by his dreadful, angry looks, |