140
A LEGEND OF THE RHINE.
He gained the field just as the crush began;—
Unwitting of his colours, he had slain
The father of his worshipped Isabelle!
They met once more:—and Isabelle was changed
As much as if a lapse of years had past:
She was so thin, so pale, and her dim eye
Had wept away its luxury of blue.
She had cut off her sunny hair, and wore
A robe of black, with a white crucifix:—
It told her destiny—her youth was vowed
To Heaven. And in the convent of the isle,
That day she was to enter, Roland stood
Like marble, cold and pale and motionless:
The heavy sweat upon his brow was all
His sign of life. At length he snatched the scarf
