Was the love that he bore her, it won no return,
And the flame that consumed him was answered with scorn.

Now the lady is gone with her steed to the plain,--
Save the falcon and hound there is none in her train;
She needs none to guide, or to guard her from harm
There's no fear in her heart, there is strength in her arm.

From her white wrist unhooded her falcon she threw,
Her bow like Diana, the huntress, she drew;
And fleet as the fetterless bird swept the sky,
So on her proud steed swept the fair lady by.

See how her eye sparkles, and how her cheek glows,
As onward so fearless and proudly she goes,
With her locks streaming back like a banner of gold,
Were she not, say, a bride meet for Nimrod(2) of old?

And he saw her--the chief, from his tower afar--
As she glanced o'er the earth like some wandering star;
And he swore she should come in that tower to dwell,
Or his soul be a prize to the spirits of hell.

His war-horse he mounted, and, swift as the shoot
Of the night-gathered meteor, he sped in pursuit,--
Breathing out, as he went, mad with love and with hate,
Bitter curse upon curse against heaven and fate.

Urging on his fleet courser with spur and with rein,
He swept o'er the earth as the storm sweeps the plain,--