"I am but a poor pilgrim, and little skilled in the 'Joyous Science,'" said the Spaniard, with affected modesty; "but the command of my queen must give me the fitting inspiration." He touched a melodious prelude, and sung in a clear, manly voice:-- 1. "I a minstrel of Grenada, Gonzalvo Bercio hight, Once wandering as a pilgrim, found a meadow richly dight, Green and peopled full of flowers, of flowers fair and bright, A place where many a weary man would rest him with delight. 2. "And the flowers I beheld all looked and smelt so sweet, That the senses and the soul they seemed alike to greet, While on every side ran fountains through all this glad retreat, Which in winter kindly warmth supplied, yet tempered summer's heat. 3. "And of rich and goodly trees there grew a boundless maze, Rich grapes and apples bright, and figs of golden rays, And many other fruits beyond my skill to praise, But none that turneth sour, and none that e'er decays. 4. "The freshness of that meadow, the sweetness of its flowers, The dewy shadows of the trees that fell like cooling showers, Renewed within my frame its worn and wasted powers, I deem the very odors would have nourished me for hours." An arrow that pierced the tent, and fell among the strings of the minstrel's harp, interrupted the symphony, and called forth discordant screams of terror. A moment after the Earl of Warrenne, breathless and bleeding, rushed into the assembly, and communicated the startling intelligence, that the Turks had taken possession of the heights allotted for their encampment, and that the king, unaware of his danger, was proceeding to the snare, spread for his whole army. Maurienne hastily cast away his mimic fetters, and counselling his lovely charge to remain as close as possible beneath the shadow of the trees, stationed a small guard to defend them, and hastened back to the assistance of his sovereign.