No sooner had the pearl-shedding fingers of the young Aurora tremulously unlocked the oriental portals of the golden horizon, than the graceful flower of chivalry, and the bright cynosure of ladies eyes—he of the dazzling breast-plate and swanlike plume—sprang impatiently from the couch of slumber, and eagerly mounted the noble _barb_ presented to him by the Emperor of Aspromontania. §Sir Philip Sidney§, _Arcadia_. See’st thou yon chief whose presence seems to rule The storm of battle? Lo! where’er he moves Death follows. Carnage sits upon his crest— Fate on his sword is throned—and his white _barb_, As a proud courser of Apollo’s chariot, Seems breathing fire. §Potter§, _Æschylus_. Oh! bonnie looked my ain true knight, His _barb_ so proudly reining; I watched him till my tearfu’ sight Grew amaist dim wi’ straining. _Border Minstrelsy._ Why, he can heel the lavolt and wind a fiery _barb_ as well as any gallant in Christendom. He’s the very pink and mirror of accomplishment. §Shakspeare.§ Fair star of beauty’s heaven! to call thee mine, All other joy’s I joyously would yield; My knightly crest, my bounding _barb_ resign For the poor shepherd’s crook and daisied field! For courts, or camps, no wish my soul would prove, So thou would’st live with me and be my love. §Earl of Surrey§, _Poems_. For thy dear love my weary soul hath grown Heedless of youthful sports: I seek no more Or joyous dance, or music’s thrilling tone, Or joys that once could charm in minstrel lore, Or knightly tilt where steel-clad champions meet, Borne on impetuous _barbs_ to bleed at beauty’s feet! §Shakspeare§, _Sonnets_. As a warrior clad In sable arms, like chaos dull and sad, But mounted on a _barb_ as white As the fresh new-born light,— So the black night too soon Came riding on the bright and silver moon Whose radiant heavenly ark Made all the clouds beyond her influence seem E’en more than doubly dark, Mourning all widowed of her glorious beam. §Cowley.§ SHERIDAN’S GREEK. In _Anecdotes of Impudence_, we find this curious story:—