Grey-haired Salustian feebly snatched a sword, And Carlos strove to lift--but falls his hand. Clasped to her breast the maiden her adored, And wildly shrieking Isabel doth stand, Nor for her clamour cared the ruthless band. They charged impetuous, as the breach were still Before them--fell that chieftain in the land, Salustian, piercéd--Carlos they did kill In Isidora’s arms, where spouts a crimson rill! XLVII. Fell to the ground his corse--the maiden stood, Like Horror’s statue, chained unto the floor. Flowed round her lovely feet a stream of blood, New reeking monsters reeled in at the door. Hell glared i’ their drunken glance. An instant more, And Honour’s soul had perished. In their eyes She reads her doom. A fiend through slippery gore Advanced--in front the casement open lies. She leaps--Archangels weep at Virtue’s sacrifice! HISTORICAL AND ILLUSTRATIVE NOTES TO CANTO VIII. For the long series of historical incidents, of which this Canto records only as much as appears to come within the province of poetry, the reader is referred to the Histories of Napier and Southey, and to Thiers’s _Histoire du Consulat et de l’Empire_, as well as to the work of Foy, which will bear comparison with any of those mentioned. With regard to Godoy’s character and conduct, I have read most carefully his _Mémoires_ published some years back in Paris; but to many of the statements in that book it is impossible to give credit, and to the view which I have taken of his career in this and the last Canto I cannot but strongly adhere. Foy thus describes him and the Royal family of Spain:--