Chapter XIV

A woman rode beside him, so they said,
A fair-faced wanton, mounted like a man--
Isolda!--my Isolda!--better dead,
Yea, dead and damned! than thus the courtesan,
Bold, unreluctant, of such men! A dread,
That such should be, unmanned me. Doubt began
To whisper at my heart.--But I was mad,
To insult her with such thoughts, whose love I had.