XXXI.

Great Heaven! what is’t? ’Tis she, ’tis Isabel, That from the midst takes rapidly the lead, With eager cry of transport. Each full well Of each the features recognized. His steed Soon Nial left, and sprang with headlong speed Adown the cliff, of Isabel’s alarms And imminent perils taking little heed. His magnet strong was her recovered charms, Nor drew he foot nor breath till clasped within his arms!