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No more in that calm sanctuary its vestal maids abide, Save one, Sir, and that one is thy bride; The sister band to other homes at will might wander free, And their lonely prioress had fled a pilgrim o'er the sea.

Seven years St. Edith's votary had wander'd far and near, Barefoot and fasting, she has call'd on every saint to hear: Seven years of joy and festival have pass'd away like hours, Since that priory had changed its state to a baron's lordly towers.