The breath his heaving bosom left and, from his nerveless hand,
The sword fell clattering to the ground, before that bloody band.
And when the damsel saw herself within those caitiffs' power,
And saw the city mantled in the darkness of the hour,
No grief that ever woman felt was equal to her pain,
And no despair like that of hers shall e'er be known again.
Those villains did not see those locks, that shone like threads of gold;
Only the summer sunlight their wondrous beauty told.
They did not mark the glittering chain of gold and jewels fine,
That in the daylight would appear her ivory throat to twine.