"Out of defeat escaped some scant three score Of all his followers. And night and day We fled; and while the Roundheads pressed us sore, And in our road, good as a fortress, lay The Moated Manse,--where our three-score or more Might well hold out,--I pointed them the way. And we are come, amid its wrecks to end The crime begun here.--Thou must go, my friend! XXXIII "Go quickly! For the time approaches when Destruction must arrive.--Oh, well I know All thou wouldst say to me.--What boots it then?-- I tell thee thou must go! that thou must go!-- Yea, dost thou think I'd have thee die 'mid men Like these, for such an one as I?--No! no!-- Thy life is clean. Thou shalt not cast away Thy clean life for my soiled one!" ... "I will stay!" XXXIV I said.--Then spoke ... I know not what it was. And seized her hand and kissed it and then said,-- "Thou art my promised wife. Thou hast no cause That is not mine. I love thee. We will wed. Isolda, come!"--A moment did she pause, Then shook her head and sighed, "My heart is dead. This can not be. Behold, that way is thine. I will not let thee share the way that's mine." XXXV Then turning from me ere I could prevent Passed like a shadow from the shadowy room, Leaving my soul in shadow.... Naught was meant By my sweet flower of love then! bloom by bloom I'd watched it wither; then its fragrance went, And dust it was now.... It was dark as doom, And bells seemed ringing far off in the rain, When from that house I turned my face again. XXXVI Then in the night a trumpet; and the dull Close thud of horse and clash of spurs and arms; And glimmering helms swept by me.--Sorrowful I stood and waited till against the storm's Black breast, the Manse,--a burning carbuncle,-- Blazed like a battle-beacon, and alarms Of onslaught clanged around it.--Then, like one, Who bears with him God's curse, I galloped on. AN OLD TALE RETOLD