A youthful Chieftain’s form as Phœbus fair
An instant filled the door—then forward rushed:—
“Back, villains, nor with deeds of carnage dare
To stain the arms that late the Gaul have crushed!
Not men, but demons—where the life-blood gushed
Of all her tribe, this maiden would ye harm?”
’Twas Nial! ’Neath his glance was instant hushed
Each caitiff’s heart. With ill-disguised alarm,
They skulk aloof in awe. Such god-like Virtue’s charm!
II.