XLV.

Now all his momentary ire had ceased ’Gainst Britain’s sons, whose high and generous hearts Partook no stain of deeds which are the feast Of felon-natures wielding Victory’s darts. And when for war again young Nial starts, Salustian gives his blessing: Isabel With many a tear a treasured chain imparts Of Isidora’s hair and her’s: “Twill dwell Next to my heart,” he said, as sobbed the maid “Farewell!”