And how he cross'd the Woodman's paths,
Thro' briars and swampy mosses beat;
How boughs rebounding scourg'd his limbs,
And low stubs gor'd his feet.
17
How sometimes from the savage den, [65]
And sometimes from the darksome shade,
And sometimes starting up at once,
In green and sunny glade;
18
There came and look'd him in the face
An Angel beautiful and bright, [70]
And how he knew it was a Fiend,
This mis'rable Knight!
19
And how, unknowing what he did,
He leapt amid a lawless band,
And sav'd from outrage worse than death [75]
The Ladie of the Land.
20
And how she wept, and clasp'd his knees,
And how she tended him in vain,
And meekly strove to expiate
The scorn that craz'd his brain; 80
