XXVIII.

He sickened at the thought of what might be, And let his weary charger pace at will, While o’er the heath Salustian rapidly At peril of his life through dale and hill Careered, grief’s energy sustaining still. “Oh Nial, know’st thou aught?”--A tear he shed, More speaking Silence than might volumes fill. The old man tore his hair. His steed they led By the rein, and held his hands in pity for his head.