Craven Blossoms | ||
XXI.
“Lady, away!” with voice that farWas heard amid the tempest's jar,
Exclaimed the Guide, with outstretched arm;
And pale and breathless with alarm,
The Lady Margaret almost sunk
On the firm bosom of the Monk,
19
As father would sustain a child.
So deemed Lord Fenwick.— [OMITTED]
“Now shalt thou see my place of rest,”
(The Monk his beauteous charge addressed,)
“Now shalt thou know how fares the Youth
Who loves thee with eternal truth;
How mean his cave and couch, fair girl,
Who loves the Daughter of an Earl;
And—uncompelled—shalt soon decide
If thou canst be an Outlaw's bride!
Nay, Lady, blench not thus—nor dream
Of use were struggle, tear, or scream.
I have thee! but my cave shall be
As safe as Warkworth Towers to thee;
And youths that boast their noble line,
Could never love with love like mine.”
Craven Blossoms | ||