He takes the trembling maiden by the hand,
Where huddled in a corner, nigh to swoon,
Shuddering and paralysed, she scarce doth stand,
And ill divineth what a priceless boon
Hath Nial brought her that he came so soon!
For ruffian violence her charms had eyed,
And forward rushed to stain that peerless Moon,
As Nial entered. Better in her pride
A million-fold to have like Isidora died!