Page:The Golden Violet.pdf/282

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There knelt one young, there knelt one fair, but, unlike those around, No change upon her steady mien or on her brow was found, Save haughtier even than its wont now seem'd that lady's face, And never yet was brow more proud among her haughty race.

Betroth'd to one who fell in war, the last of all her name, In her first youth and loveliness the noble maiden came; Vigil and prayer, and tears perchance, had worn her bloom away, When held that youthful prioress in St. Edith's shrine her sway.