XLI.

And Nial oft on fiery steed doth ride O’er the brief space that sunders them, to mark The old man’s progress. Oft bright eyes replied In mutual glances blithe as song of lark At each returning. Soft, though lustrous dark, Beamed Isabel on Nial’s blue-eyed smile. Salustian saw full clear the kindling spark, Nor chid the flame that grew and spread the while, Till Nial’s plighted troth was echoed without guile.