Forthwith, when Morvan Lez-Breiz saw
His Moorish foe lie dead,

His foot he placed upon his breast,
And straight cut off his head.
He hung it by the grisly beard
His saddle-bow unto;

And, for its stains of Moorish blood,
His sword away he threw.

Upon his good steed then he sprang,

He sprang without delay,

And, followed by his page, went forth

Upon his homeward way.
When home, he hung aloft,
Upon his gateway high,

The hideous head with grinning teeth
In sight of passers-by.

And now the warriors said, Behold!

A mighty man indeed

Is Lez-Breiz, stay of Brittany

In every time of need.

Whereto Lord Lez-Breiz answered straight:

"I twenty fights have seen, And twenty thousand armèd men By me have vanquished been;

"Yet never was I so beset,
So hardly pressed before,
Until this last encounter when

I slew the giant Moor.
S. Anne, my dearest mother, thou
Dost wonders work for me,
Wherefore, 'twixt Ind and Léguer, I
A church will build to thee."

His gentle squire lent anxious heed
That omen ill unto:

"In heaven's name, my lord, I pray
Stay you at home. This opening day
Augurs not well for you."

What, then, my page? Abide at home?
Nay, that can never be.

The order I have given to march,
And, therefore, march must we.
And I will march while spark of life
Remains alight in me,
Until that king of forest land
Beneath my heel I see."

This hearing, sprang his sister dear
Up to his bridle-rein.

"My brother, go not forth, for ne'er

Wilt thou return again.
Then wherefore, brother, thus to meet
Thy death wouldst thou be gone?
For wert thou slain, I should be left
Alone, thy only one.

"The White Horse of the Sea behold
I see upon the shore;
A monstrous serpent him around
Entwineth more and more.

Behind, his flanks are interlaced By two terrific rings;

Around his body, neck, and legs The hideous monster clings.

"The hapless creature, stifled, scorched,
On his hind feet uprears,
Turns back his head, and with his teeth
The serpent's throat he tears.
The monster gaping wide, his tongue-
His triple tongue-darts forth,
Fiery and pois'nous, rolls his eyes
And hisses, mad with wrath.

But, ah! his snakelings, venomous brood,

To aid him swarm around;

The strife is all unequal: fly

While thou art safe and sound.'

"Nay, let the Franks by thousands come;

From death I do not flee."

E'en as he spake, already far,
Far from his home was he.

"'Tis the hour when flocks are folded, Catile herded in the stall:

E'en wild beasts and savage creatures Cease to wander, sheltered all." "Who comes thus at midnight, seeking Entrance at my lonely door?" "One to Brittany, his country,

Known full well in dangers sore;
In her day of anguish, Les-Breis,
Armor's Help, the name I bore."

"Nay, my door I will not open;
A seditious one are you,
Who against the Lord's anointed
Oft have earned a rebel's due."

"I seditious? Heaven is witness
None am I of rebel crew.
Whoso dares to call me traitor,
He the slander well shall rue.
Cursed be the Frankish people,
Cursed their king, and traitors, too!

"Yes; the Franks are coward traitors!
Else the victory were mine."
"Man, beware! nor friend nor foeman
Curse thou: 'tis no right of thine.

"And the king, the Lord's anointed,
Least of all be curst by thee."
"Say you so? Nay rather, soothly,
Satan's own anointed he:
Brittany by Heaven's anointed
Devastated ne'er would be.

Daily, at the hour of noontide,
Fasting, you must wend your wi
Up to yonder mountain summit:
There a little stream doth play.
From that little mountain streamie
Water you must bear away."

Holy hermit, only say
What your will, and I obey."

When the seven years were ended
Bared his heels were to the bone
Where the leaden cloak had worn
Long and grey his hair had grov

Grey his beard flowed o'er his gir
Any who his form had seen
Had a hoary oak-tree thought him
Which for sev'n years dead had
None who Lez-Breiz met had kno
Altered thus in face and mien.

One there was alone who knew hi
Through the wood a lady brigh
Through the greenwood swiftly p
Clad in garb of purest white,
Stayed her steps and wept, behold
Lez-Breiz in so piteous plight.

"Is it thou, my dear son Lez-Breiz
Lez-Breiz, is it thou indeed?
Come, my child, that I may free th
From thy burden sore, with spe

"Let me with my golden scissors
Sever this thy heavy chain.
I thy mother, Anne of Armor,
Come to end thy lengthened pain

11.

A month and seven years had flown, When Lez-Breiz' faithful squire Throughout the land his master sou With love that cannot tire.

And as he rode by Helléan's wood,
He to himself did sigh:
Though I have slain his murderer, y
My dear lord lost have I."

Then to him from the forest came
A wild and plaintive neigh,
Whereat his horse, with answering c
Snuffing the wind, his head thrown h

Sped, with a bound, away.

Away they sped the greenwood thro Until they reached the spot Where the black steed of Lez-Breiz But them he heeded not.

The charger stood the fountain by,
He neither drank nor fed

But with his hoofs he tore the ground
With sad and downcast head;
Then raised it, neighing dismally,
He wept, so some men said.

"Tell me, O venerable sire,

Who to the fountain come,
Who is it that beneath this mound
Sleeps in his narrow home?"

"Lez-Breiz it is who lies at rest,
Here in this lonely spot.
Famed will he be through Brittany
Till Britany is not.

Nomenöe, one of the most astute as well as determined of the Breton kings, after deceiving Charles le Chauve for some time by a feigned submission, suddenly threw off the mask, drove the Franks beyond the Oust and Vilaine, seized the cities of Nantes and Rennes-which have ever since formed a part of Brittany

and delivered his countrymen from the tribute which they had been compelled to pay to the French king. M. Augustin Thierry considers the following description of the event which occasioned the deliverance of Brittany to be " a poem of remarkable beauty, full of allusions to manners of a remote epoch, . . . and a vividly symbolical picture of the prolonged inaction and the sudden awakening of the patriot prince when he judged the right moment to have come."

The fierce exultation of the poet when the head of the Intendant is swept off to complete the lacking weight, recalls the words of Lez-Breiz not many years before: "Can I but see this Frankish king, he shall have what he asks. I will pay tribute with my sword!"

"Si fortuna daret possim quo cernere regem, Proque tributali hæc ferrea dona dedissem."*

THE TRIBUTE OF NOMENÖE. (DROUK-KINNIG NEUMENOIOU), A.D. 841.

Forthwith in steam like clouds drives o'er the plain.

Argad! To war!

1.

KOCHE, the subject of this memoir, was born on the remote island of Chatham, in the Southern Pacific Ocean, Forced by a cruel servitude to fly from his native island, he passed many years in absolute solitude on the little uninhabited island of Pitt, lying some miles distant from Chatham. Here he reigned undisputed master of the land and all it contained: whence the title of "King of Pitt" among those who knew him. His account of his native island and its inhabitants, together with his own adventures, show him to have been a man of an undaunted spirit, which no adverse fortune could bend, much, less break; and had he been known to Carlyle, would have been placed by him among his heroes for worship and imitation; but, unluckily, Carlyle never heard of him.

It is well, in order to understand the life and adventures of Koche, "King of Pitt," to relate the history of the country and people from which he sprang, before going into the details of his career.

Ware-kauri, one of the South Sea
VOL. XVII.-35

islands, called by the English, Chatham, lies several hundred miles to the eastward of New Zealand. Its history up to the year 1791 rests upon tradition, as prior to that date its inhabitants had not acquired, among their many accomplishments, the art of letters. Koche himself, from whose mouth this narrative has been taken, says that his people were from the earliest period inclined to peaceful pursuits, and subsisted chiefly upon fish and seal; that they enjoyed a democracy, and conducted their simple affairs by a council of notable men. He did not hesitate, however, to acknowledge that when at long intervals, covering a generation, a high and prolonged west wind drove a canoe-load of New Zealanders upon their shores, they forthwith and without ceremony slew them. But he justified this departure from their ordinary habits on the ground of public policy; as, had they received them in charity, and pursued the peaceful tenor of their way, their involuntary visitors would have ended by slay