Say, will the blushing wreaths of joy Beside thy waters blossom ever, And sweets like breath of angels, throw Around the purple wings of Zephyr?” As he was going to repeat the song, his eyes met those of the King, and a flush of joyful surprize covered his pallid face; he rose hastily, reminded his comrades of supper, and in the midst of their tumultuous movements, drew near to one of the houses: he then glided in at an open door, making a sign for Sebastian to follow. The King obeyed: no sooner were they alone, than Gaspar cast himself at the feet of his sovereign, uttering in a low voice the most affecting expressions of sorrow and of respect, deploring the fate of Portugal, thus deprived of her protector, and beseeching him to order his services and his life in any way conducive to his comfort. Sebastian could not conceal his emotion: he raised Gaspar from the ground, with many gracious acknowledgements, assuring him that the only service he could do him would be to discover whether a ransom would indeed be refused by El Hader, or to aid in their mutual escape.--Gaspar’s answer destroyed every hope. He represented that the Almoçadem avowedly picqued himself upon never giving liberty to the enemies of Mahomet; that as the whole of the domains were inclosed by high walls, and these regularly guarded day and night, the escape of a prisoner was impossible; nay, that even such captives as worked in the fields and quarries, were watched by Moors completely armed, therefore as hopeless of escape as the household servants. “For myself, I scarcely care,” said the young soldier, (tears starting into his eyes even while he believed himself thus indifferent;) “but to behold my King so fated, drives me to desperation.--My life, sire, is of no consequence--except to a widowed mother and sisters, whom your royal bounty will hereafter save from want--perhaps you would deign to accept of my attempting something for your sake; should I fail, it will be nothing; I shall die in the performance of a duty; should I succeed, Portugal will owe her happiness to me.” “What is it you would attempt?” asked Sebastian, seeing Gaspar too much affected to proceed. “To scale the walls,” exclaimed the breathless soldier, “to flee by unfrequented ways to the nearest fortress, to convey thither the blessed tidings of my sovereign’s safety, and either return with a royal ransom, or joined by every Portuguese in Africa, march hither, storm the Cassavee, and----.”