But as his foremost foes their weapons bend
Against the life he seeks not to defend,
Wildly she darts between—each feeling past,
Save strong affection, which prevails at last.
Oh, not in vain its daring!—for the blow
Aim’d at his heart hath bade her life-blood flow;
And she hath sunk a martyr on the breast
Where in that hour her head may calmly rest,
For he is saved! Behold the Zegri band,
Pale with dismay and grief, around her stand: