XLVI.

Grey-haired Salustian feebly snatched a sword, And Carlos strove to lift--but falls his hand. Clasped to her breast the maiden her adored, And wildly shrieking Isabel doth stand, Nor for her clamour cared the ruthless band. They charged impetuous, as the breach were still Before them--fell that chieftain in the land, Salustian, piercéd--Carlos they did kill In Isidora’s arms, where spouts a crimson rill!