To save the girl who clung

Around his neck.

These relics dear were found and silent hung

Beneath the rest. None sought grief's tears to check

 Alack! The ill-starred news had reach the shrine Where sat mid birds and flowers, His new-born bride. To her the lead-winged moments seemed as hours; And yet her bounding hope her baleful fears belied. What tidings would morn bring. O could she but divine! 

Alack! The ill-starred news had reach the shrine

Where sat mid birds and flowers,

His new-born bride.

To her the lead-winged moments seemed as hours;

And yet her bounding hope her baleful fears belied.

 

 

 Saved. 

 The smuggler's patient skill soon fanned life's spark Into a feeble flame. Sir Harold first The solemn quiet broke to breathe the name Of Ruth, the Saracene who had him nurs'd And hid with all a sister's love and care within her ark. 

The smuggler's patient skill soon fanned life's spark

Into a feeble flame.

Sir Harold first

The solemn quiet broke to breathe the name

Of Ruth, the Saracene who had him nurs'd

 "She's saved? Thanks be to God," he said, and wept. "And she, my lady bride! O can you say She too doth live? Or better yonder tide Now held this hopeless wreck of life its prey!" "She lives, brave knight," they said. He smiled his thanks and slept. 

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