fearful of losing her guide, had followed close on his footsteps, and rejoined him at the mouth of the cavern.  Then the traitor, seeing the impossibility of escaping her, conceived another design.  He told her that before her approach he had seen in the cavern a young and beautiful damsel, whose rich dress announced her high birth, who with tears and lamentations implored assistance; that before he could descend to relieve her a ruffian had seized her, and hurried her away into the recesses of the cavern.

Bradamante, full of truth and courage, readily believed this lie of the Mayencian traitor.  Eager to succor the damsel, she looked round for the means of facilitating the descent, and seeing a large elm with spreading branches she lopped off with her sword one of the largest, and thrust it into the opening.  She told Pinabel to hold fast to the larger end, while, grasping the branches with her hands, she let herself down into the cavern.

The traitor smiled at seeing her thus suspended, and, asking her in mockery, “Are you a good leaper?” he let go the branch with perfidious glee, and saw Bradamante precipitated to the bottom of the cave.  “I wish your whole race were there with you,” he muttered, “that you might all perish together.”

But Pinabel’s atrocious design was not accomplished.  The twigs and foliage of the branch broke its descent, and Bradamante, not seriously injured, though stunned with her fall, was reserved for other adventures.

As soon as she recovered from the shock Bradamante cast her eyes around and perceived a door, through which she passed into a second cavern, larger and loftier than the first.  It had the appearance of a subterranean temple.  Columns of the purest alabaster adorned it, and supported the roof; a simple altar rose in the middle; a lamp, whose radiance was reflected by the alabaster walls, cast a mild light around.

Bradamante, inspired by a sense of religious awe, approached the altar, and, falling on her knees, poured forth her prayers and thanks to the Preserver of her life, invoking the protection of his power.  At that moment a small door opened, and a female issued from it with naked feet, and flowing robe and hair, who called her by her name, and thus addressed her:  “Brave and generous Bradamante, know that it is a power from above that has brought you hither.  The spirit of Merlin, whose last earthly abode was in this place, has warned me of your arrival, and of the fate that awaits you.  This famous grotto,” she continued, “was the work of the enchanter Merlin; here his ashes repose.  You have no doubt heard how this sage and virtuous enchanter ceased to be.  Victim of the artful fairy of the lake, Merlin, by a fatal compliance with her request, laid himself down living in his tomb, without power to resist the spell laid upon him by that ingrate, who retained him there as long as he lived.  His spirit hovers about this spot, and will not leave it, until the last trumpet shall summon the dead to judgment.  He answers the questions of those who approach his tomb, where perhaps you may be privileged to hear his voice.”