Page:Lyrical ballads, Volume 1, Wordsworth, 1800.djvu/193

141 That sometimes from the savage Den,

And sometimes from the darksome Shade,

And sometimes starting up at once

In green and sunny Glade,

There came, and look'd him in the face,

An Angel beautiful and bright;

And that he knew, it was a Fiend,

This miserable Knight!

And that, unknowing what he did,

He leapt amid a murd'rous Band,

And sav'd from Outrage worse than Death

The Lady of the Land;

And how she wept and clasp'd his knees

And how she tended him in vain—

And ever strove to expiate

The Scorn, that craz'd his Brain.