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 She listen'd with a flitting blush, With downcast eyes, and modest grace; And she forgave me, that 1 gazed Too fondly on her face!

But when I told the cruel scorn That craz'd that bold and lovely Knight, And that he cross'd the mountain-woods, Nor rested day nor night;

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 leap'd amid a murderous band, And sav'd from outrage worse than death The Lady of the Land!