rous garrison and inhabitants to the sword without distinction.

Neither arms defended the valiant, nor submission the timorous: no age
or sex was spared: infants on the breast were pierced by the same blow
with their mothers, who implored for mercy: even a multitude to the
number of ten thousand persons, who had surrendered themselves
prisoners, and were promised quarter, were butchered in cold blood by
those ferocious conquerors. The streets of Jerusalem were covered with
dead bodies; and the triumphant warriors, after every enemy was subdued
and slaughtered, immediately turned themselves, with the sentiments of
humiliation and contrition, towards the holy sepulchre. They threw aside
their arms, still streaming with blood: they advanced with reclined
bodies, and naked feet and heads, to that sacred monument: they sang
anthems to their Saviour, who had there purchased their salvation by his
death and agony: and their devotion, enlivened by the presence of the
place where he had suffered, so overcame their fury, that they dissolved
in tears, and bore the appearance of every soft and tender sentiment. So
inconsistent is human nature with itself! and so easily does the most
effeminate superstition ally, both with the most heroic courage and with
the fiercest barbarity!

This great event happened on the fifth of July in the last year of the
eleventh century. The Christian princes and nobles, after choosing
Godfrey of Bouillon king of Jerusalem, began to settle themselves in
their new conquests; while some of them returned to Europe, in order to
enjoy at home that glory, which their valor had acquired them in this
popular and meritorious enterprise.

XX. THE BARD.

_A Pindaric Ode._[D]

THOMAS GRAY.--1716-1771.

I. 1.

"Ruin seize thee, ruthless King!
Confusion on thy banners wait;
Though fann'd by Conquest's crimson wing,
They mock the air with idle state.
Helm, nor hauberk's twisted mail,
Nor e'en thy virtues, Tyrant, shall avail
To save thy secret soul from nightly fears,
From Cambria's curse, from Cambria's tears!"
Such were the sounds that o'er the crested pride
Of the first Edward scatter'd wild dismay,
As down the steep of Snowdon's shaggy side
He wound with toilsome march his long array.
Stout Glo'ster stood aghast in speechless trance:
"To arms!" cried Mortimer, and couch'd his quivering lance.

I. 2.

On a rock, who