orne,
My loyalty and love! To see her eyes
Hollow from tears for him; her pale cheeks worn
With grief for him; to know them all for lies,
Her vows of faith to me; to come forlorn,
Where I had hoped to come on Paradise,
On Hell's black gulf; and, as if not enough,
Soiled as she was and outcast, still to love!

XXII.

Then rode one ruffian from the rest, clay-flecked
From spur to plume with hurry; seized my rein,
And--"What art thou," demanded, "who hast checked
Our way, and challenged?"--Then, with some disdain,
Isolda, "Sir, my kinsman did expect
Your captain here. What honor may remain
To me I pledge for him. Hold off thy hands!
He but attends me to the Moated Manse."

XXIII.

We rode in silence. And at twilight came
Into the Moated Manse.--Great clouds had grown
Up in the West, on which the sunset's flame
Lay like the hand of slaughter.--Very lone
Its rooms and halls: a splintered door that, lame,
Swung on one hinge; a cabinet o'erthrown;
Or arras torn; or blood-stain turning wan,
Showed us the way the battle once had gone.

XXIV.

We reached the tower-chamber towards the West,
In which on that dark day she thought to hide
From Rupert when, at last, 't was manifest
We could not hold the Manse. There was no pride
In her deep eyes now; nor did scorn invest
Her with such dignity as once defied
Him bursting in to find her standing here
Prepared to die like some dog-hunted deer.

XXV.

She took my hand, and, as if naught of love
Had ever been between us, said,--"All know
The madness of that day when with his glove
He struck then slew my brother, and brought woe
On all our house; and thou, incensed above
The rest, came here, and made my foe thy foe.
But he had left. 'T was then I promised thee
My hand, but, ah! my heart was gone from me.

XXVI.

"Yea, he had won me, this same Rupert, when
He was our guest.--Thou know'st how gallantry
And beauty can make heroes of all men
To us weak women!--And so secretly
I vowed to be his wife. It happened then
My brother found him in some villainy;
The insult followed; he was killed ... and thou
Dost still remember how I made a vow.

XXVII.

"But still this man pursued me, and I held
Firm to my vow, albeit I loved him still,
Unknown to all, with all the love unquelled
Of first