Salustian gives his blessing: Isabel
With many a tear a treasured chain imparts
Of Isidora’s hair and her’s: “Twill dwell
Next to my heart,” he said, as sobbed the maid “Farewell!”
XLVI.
But, ah, the town Isaiah’s voice recals
When mourned the awful prophet Zion’s doom,
With battering nations camped around her walls,
Till flames devouring chase the midnight gloom.
Wo to thee, Ariel, wo, gigantic tomb!