Stripped as I am of every hope, 'tis better I go bare,
For the black mantle of my soul is but tormenting care;
I vengeance take on yonder oak, pierced by my lance's steel--
I dote, for, ah! the trees I wound, cannot, like women, feel."
He took the bridle off his steed, "Roam as thou wilt," said he.
"As I gave Zaida her release, I give release to thee."
The swift horse galloped out of sight; in melancholy mood,
The knight, unhorsed and helmetless, his lonely path pursued.