He takes the trembling maiden by the hand, Where huddled in a corner, nigh to swoon, Shuddering and paralysed, she scarce doth stand, And ill divineth what a priceless boon Hath Nial brought her that he came so soon! For ruffian violence her charms had eyed, And forward rushed to stain that peerless Moon, As Nial entered. Better in her pride A million-fold to have like Isidora died! III. But Heaven, I ween, had sent the gallant youth To rescue Innocence in that dread hour, And show transcendent courage, manhood, truth O’er hell-born passion’s momentary power! He seized her hand--at first from him, her tower Of strength in peril, she withdrew in fear; But in his eyes she looked, and when the flower Of generous youth and beauty stood so near, Her awe dissolved--her face was bright ’mid many a tear. IV. As vines their tendrils curl round sturdy elms, As delicate flowers their heads bend to the sun, As ivy twines round oak in forest realms, As jasmine soft doth o’er the trellis run: So Isabel her soul doth throw upon Young Nial’s arm, reposing fearless there. His hero-heart her confidence hath won. So brave, so kind he looks that even Despair His presence flies, and blood less direful hues doth wear. V. He spoke brief words--but deep, consoling, tender; Iberia’s language War’s quick ear had taught; His thrilling voice new confidence doth lend her, But tow’rds the floor her eyes an instant brought Sent back the flood of agonizing thought. And wild she cried, and frantic was her wail; And shuddering she nigh fell, till Nial caught The bruiséd lambkin in his arms, and pale He bore her through the door, and fanned her in the gale. VI. Full slowly she revived, and Nial then An instant left her in the outer air, While to the chamber he returned again, And made her butchered kindred next his care. Joy! joy! Salustian upright sits, and spare Thy talons, Death, one victim: deep his wound, But yet not perilous. Nial straight doth tear His sash away, and swathe it firmly round Salustian’s side, the blood he staunched, the gash he bound. VII. Salustian deeply groaned:--“Would I had died, Would Heaven that I had died this fatal hour! Where are my girls--my girls? Oh God,” he cried, “One dashed to pieces--in the villains’ power The other--Slay me! Hellhounds, all devour That owns me. Slay me! Oh, in mercy slay. Yet I’ll not leave my daughter sweet, my flower Of Beauty in their claws. Kites, Kites, I say, Where, hellkites, is my girl? My sword your lust shall stay?” VIII.