their type in the book of universal memory. But Don John escapes
notice--a solitary star outshone by dazzling constellations.
Commemorated by no medals, flattered by no historiographer, sung by
no inspired "godson," anointed by neither pope nor primate, his nook
in the temple of fame is out of sight, and forgotten.

Even his master feat, the gaining of the battle of Lepanto, brings
chiefly to our recollection that the author of Don Quixote lost his
hand in the action; and in the trivial page before us, we dare not
call our hero by the name of "Don Juan," (by which he is known in
Spanish history,) lest he be mistaken for the popular libertine! And
thus, the last of the knights has been stripped of his name by the
hero of the "Festin de Pierre," and of his honours by Cervantes, as
by Philip II. of a throne.--

Hard fate for one described by all the writers of his time as a model
of manly grace and Christian virtue! How charming is the account
given by the old Spanish writers of the noble youth, extricated from
his convent to be introduced on the high-road to a princely cavalier,
surrounded by his retinue, whom he is first desired to salute as a
brother, and then required to worship, as the king of Spain! We are
told of his joy on discovering his filial relationship to the great
emperor, so long the object of his admiration. We are told of his
deeds of prowess against the Turks at Lepanto, at Tunis against the
Moor. We are told of the proposition of Gregory XIII. that he should
be rewarded with the crown of Barbary, and of the desire of the
revolted nobility of Belgium, to raise him to their tottering throne;
nay, we are even assured that "la couronne d'Hibernie" was offered to
his acceptance. And finally, we are told of his untimely death and
glorious funeral--mourned by all the knighthood of the land! But we