Such was the Princess; whom a  now seiz'd,
And on DE COURCI's steed securely fix'd.
A silken sash, held by the treach'rous Knight,
Pass'd through OSMIDA's girdle, and enchain'd
The mourning Virgin, and her deadliest foe.
Upon another steed was plac'd ALMANZOR,
Behind a guiding This was the state
The kingdom's Monarch, and the kingdom's Heir,
Were now constrain'd to use. No pompous guards,
No blessing populace, no proud grandees,
Their steps attend; — but oh! how small  grief,
Weigh'd with the horrid fears, the tort'ring doubts,
Which fill their bosoms, and absorb their thoughts!