Page:The Golden Violet.pdf/238

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With torch in hand, and bared head, The old man led the way; And cold and shrill pass'd the midnight wind Through his hair of silvery grey.

A stately knight follow'd his steps, And his form was tall and proud; But his step fell soft, and his helm was off, And his head on his bosom bow'd.

They pass'd through the cathedral aisles, Whose sculptured walls declare The deeds of many a noble knight; ’s name was not there.

They pass'd next a low and humble church, Scarce seen amid the gloom;