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She gave her broad lands to its use, she gave her golden dower,— Marvel ye that ill she brook'd the chance that ruled the hour? And it may be more fiercely grew her pious zeal allied To this her all of earthly power—her all of earthly pride.

Comes from the aisle a heavy sound, such steps as tread in steel, The clash of sword, the ring of shield, the tramp of armed heel. The prioress bade her nuns upraise the vesper's sacred tone, She led the hymn, but mute the rest—no voice rose but her own: