O’er leagues of mountain heath did nought appear,
Save his own shadow and his steed’s i’ the Moon
Reflected long and dreary as the year
It seemed since he had parted, vowing soon
To meet, from Isabel thus lost in Beauty’s noon!
XXVIII.
He sickened at the thought of what might be,
And let his weary charger pace at will,
While o’er the heath Salustian rapidly
At peril of his life through dale and hill