I.

A youthful Chieftain’s form as Phœbus fair An instant filled the door--then forward rushed:-- “Back, villains, nor with deeds of carnage dare To stain the arms that late the Gaul have crushed! Not men, but demons--where the life-blood gushed Of all her tribe, this maiden would ye harm?” ’Twas Nial! ’Neath his glance was instant hushed Each caitiff’s heart. With ill-disguised alarm, They skulk aloof in awe. Such god-like Virtue’s charm!