To whisper at my heart.—But I was mad,
To insult her with such thoughts, whose love I had.
XV
At last one day I rested in a glade
Near that same woodland which I lay in when
Sore wounded: and, while sitting in the shade
Of an old beech—what! did I dream? or men
Like Rupert's own ride near me? and a maid—
Isolda or her double!—Wildly then