“Thereafter, he led the maiden through many winding and secret paths of the forest, till she arrived at her father’s castle. Before taking leave of him there she wished to know the champion’s name to whom she had been so much indebted. ‘I am Hakon Swendson,’ answered he, ‘and I know right well that you are named the beautiful Sigrida, daughter of the renowned old hero who resides in this castle. I know too, that the drink which you have this morning prepared is intended to work my destruction. But I have long been your ardent lover, beautiful Sigrid, and that ancient and deadly feud between our houses has killed all my hopes. Therefore I shall now gladly die by your father’s sword, and wish that the drink which you have brewed from these magical herbs may render him, as you designed, invincible!’ “Although Hakon Swendson intended after these words instantly to return to the forest, the fair Sigrid insisted that he should accompany her into the castle. There she related to her father all that had happened to her in the foregoing night, and with such eloquence, that the two warriors forgot all their former wrath against each other. They mutually threw aside their battle-array, and thereafter Hakon Swendson and the fair Sigrid were happily united in marriage.” The company were well pleased with this story. The contrast, afforded by the noble and generous affections which it exemplified, to the wild and fierce characters of the northern knights, were compared, by a great master in the art of painting, (who was among the guests,) to the effect of a rainbow stretched across a dark threatening thundercloud; while the Italian Count preferred the similitude of a rose, which, though not valued amid the blooming gardens of his native country, would yet, amid the chill mountains of the north, be prized as a great treasure. Meanwhile several of the party had turned their attention on a man of very tall stature, with a dark sunburnt visage; he was a Spaniard, by name Don Hernandez; and they earnestly requested that he would relate to them some legend from his own romantic and wonderful country, especially somewhat of the long and fearful conflicts between the Christians and Moors. Thereupon he took up a lute, and began to sing a wild Spanish ballad, unfolding the tragical fortunes of the beautiful Donna Clara, and her lover, Don Gayferos. The first stanzas began in a gay tone, describing how he had persuaded her to leave her father’s palace, and take a moonlight walk with him through the lonely forest. I. “Don Gayferos,--Don Gayferos, though the stars are bright on high, And the nightingale exalts her voice in sweetest melody; Yet longer in the darksome wood, I will not,--may not stay!” “Then, dearest Lady, but command,--thy servant shall obey.” II.