was now collected, and both sides used their utmost efforts to carry and to defend this position. The Netherlanders on

board the fleet, loath to remain idle spectators of the conflict, sprang ashore from their vessels. Alexander attacked the breastwork on one side, Count Mansfeld on the other; five assaults were made, and five times they were repulsed. The Netherlanders, in this decisive moment, surpassed themselves; never in the whole course of the war had they fought with such determination. But it was the Scotch and English in particular, who baffled the attempts of the enemy by their va liant resistance. As no one would advance to the attack in the quarter where the Scotch fought, the duke himself led on the troops, with a javelin in his hand, and up to his breast in water. At last, after a protracted struggle, the forces of Count Mansfeld succeeded with their halberds and pikes, in making a breach in the breastwork, and by raising themselves on one another's shoulders, scaled the parapet. Barthelemy Toralva, a Spanish captain, was the first who showed himself on the top; and almost at the same instant, the Italian Capizucchi appeared upon the edge of it; and thus the contest of valour was decided with equal glory for both nations. It is worth while to notice here, the manner in which the Prince of Parma, who was made arbiter of this emulous strife, encouraged this delicate sense of honour among his warriors. He embraced the Italian Capizucchi in presence of the troops, and acknowledged aloud that it was principally to the courage of this officer that he owed the capture of the breastwork. He caused the Spanish Captain Toralva, who was dangerously wounded, to be conveyed to his own quarters at Stabroek, laid on his own bed, and covered with the cloak which he himself had worn the day before the battle.

After the capture of the breastwork, the victory no longer remained doubtful. The Dutch and Zealand troops, who had disembarked to come to close action with the enemy, at once lost their courage, when they looked about them and saw the vessels, which were their last refuge, putting off from the shore.

For the tide had began to ebb, and the commanders of the fleet, from fear of being stranded with their heavy transports, and, in case of an unfortunate issue to the engagement, becoming the prey of the enemy, retired from the dam, and made for deep

water. No sooner did Alexander perceive this, than he pointed out to his troops the flying vessels, and encouraged them to finish the action with an enemy, who already despaired of their safety. The Dutch auxiliaries were the first that gave way, and their example was soon followed by the Zealanders. Hastily leaping from the dam, they endeavoured to reach the vessels by wading or swimming; but from their disorderly flight, they impeded one another, and fell in heaps under the swords of the pursuers. Many perished even in the boats, as each strove to get on board before the other, and several vessels sank under the weight of the numbers who rushed into them. The Antwerpers, who fought for their liberty, their hearths, their faith, were the last who retreated, but this very circumstance augmented their disaster. Many of their vessels were outstripped by the ebb-tide, and grounded within reach of the enemy's cannon, and were consequently destroyed with all on board. Crowds of fugitives endeavoured by swimming to gain the other transports, which had got into deep water; but such was the rage and boldness of the Spaniards, that they swam after them with their swords between their teeth, and dragged many even from the ships. The victory of the king's troops was complete, but bloody; for of the Spaniards about 800, of the Netherlanders some thousands (without reckoning those who were drowned) were left on the field, and on both sides many of the principal nobility perished. More than thirty vessels, with a large supply of provisions for Antwerp, fell into the hands of the victors, with 150 cannon and other military stores. The dam, the possession of which had been so dearly maintained, was pierced in thirteen different places, and the bodies of those who had cut through it were now used to stop up the openings.

The following day, a transport of immense size and singular construction, fell into the hands of the royalists. It formed a floating castle, and had been destined for the attack on the Cowenstein dam. The people of Antwerp had built it at an immense expense, at the very time when the engineer Gianibelli's useful proposals had been rejected, on account of the cost they entailed, and this ridiculous monster was called by the proud title of End of the War," which appellation was afterwards changed for the more appropriate sobriquet of Money lost!" When this vessel was launched, it turned

out, as every sensible person had foretold, that on account of its unwieldy size it was utterly impossible to steer it, and it could hardly be floated by the highest tide. With great difficulty it was worked as far as Ordam, where, deserted by the tide, it went aground, and fell a prey to the enemy.

The attack upon the Cowenstein dam was the last attempt which was made to relieve Antwerp. From this time, the courage of the besieged sank, and the magistracy of the town, vainly laboured to inspirit with distant hopes the lower orders, on whom the present distress weighed heaviest. Hitherto the price of bread had been kept down to a tolerable rate, although the quality of it continued to deteriorate; by degrees, however, provisions became so scarce, that a famine was evidently near at hand. Still hopes were entertained of being

able to hold out, at least, until the corn between the town and the farthest batteries, which was already in full ear, could be reaped; but before that could be done, the enemy had carried the last outwork, and had appropriated the whole harvest to their use. At last the neighbouring and confederate town of Malines fell into the enemy's hands, and with its fall vanished the only remaining hope of getting supplies from Brabant. As there was, therefore, no longer any means of increasing the stock of provisions, nothing was left but to diminish the consumers. All useless persons, all strangers, nay even the women and children were to be sent away out of the town, but this proposal was too revolting to humanity to be carried into execution. Another plan, that of expelling the Catholic inhabitants, exasperated them so much, that it had almost ended in open mutiny. And thus St. Aldegonde at last saw himself compelled to yield to the riotous clamours of the populace, and on the 17th of August, 1585, to make overtures to the Duke of Parma for the surrender of the town.

THE END.

WALLENSTEIN'S CAMP,

TRANSLATED BY JAMES CHURCHILL.

THE PICCOLOMINI,

AND

THE DEATH OF WALLENSTEIN,

BY S. T. COLERIDGE.

INCLUDING SCENES AND PASSAGES HITHERTO OMITTED.

"Upon the whole there can be no doubt that this trilogy forms, in its original tongue, one of the most splendid specimens of tragic art the world has witnessed; and none at all, that the execution of the version from which we have quoted so largely, places Mr. Coleridge in the very first rank of poetical translators. He is, perhaps, the solitary example of a man of very great original genius submitting to all the labours, and reaping all the honours, of this species of literary exertion."-Blackwood, 1823.