Vain Nial’s words--Salustian would to horse: “Then let your ailing master be your care,” Quoth Nial to Salustian’s men. “Remorse “Be his who shall neglect my fervent prayer, “That, if he still will follow, slow ye fare!” He spurred his generous charger--at a bound Crost half the court-yard, learnt the route to bear Upon the robber’s track, and soon the sound Of his steed’s hoofs was lost upon the mountain-ground. XXVII. Vain his long gallop, vain his bird-like speed, Vain every turn and venture far and near. Sad, sad grew Nial’s heart, and ’gan to bleed, While from his eye fell many a bitter tear. O’er leagues of mountain heath did nought appear, Save his own shadow and his steed’s i’ the Moon Reflected long and dreary as the year It seemed since he had parted, vowing soon To meet, from Isabel thus lost in Beauty’s noon! XXVIII. He sickened at the thought of what might be, And let his weary charger pace at will, While o’er the heath Salustian rapidly At peril of his life through dale and hill Careered, grief’s energy sustaining still. “Oh Nial, know’st thou aught?”--A tear he shed, More speaking Silence than might volumes fill. The old man tore his hair. His steed they led By the rein, and held his hands in pity for his head. XXIX. Thus by the far-resounding shore they past, High o’er the bosom of the heaving main, When reached their ears upon the lulling blast A chorus sweet that seemed to ease their pain. Their eyes cast downward o’er the Ocean-plain Beheld the Basque barqueras distant ply Their shallops in the moonlight, like a chain Of jet o’er sparkling emerald. Both drew nigh To the cliff’s edge, amazed a sight so strange to espy. XXX. Sudden the chorus ceased--the shallops stopt-- The oars arose like spear-shafts in the air; “_Parad!_” a voice exclaimed, like music dropt Upon the gale that hastened swift to bear The summons to the victims of Despair. Down fell the oars again, and swift each hand The green wave lashed, till urged those Nereids fair Their prows with rival speed upon the strand, And soon in beauteous file upon the beach they land. XXXI. Great Heaven! what is’t? ’Tis she, ’tis Isabel, That from the midst takes rapidly the lead, With eager cry of transport. Each full well Of each the features recognized. His steed Soon Nial left, and sprang with headlong speed Adown the cliff, of Isabel’s alarms And imminent perils taking little heed. His magnet strong was her recovered charms, Nor drew he foot nor breath till clasped within his arms! XXXII.