Page:The white doe of Rylstone - or, The fate of the Nortons. A poem (IA whitedoeofrylsto00wordrich).pdf/119

 He sighed, submitting to the power, The might of that prophetic hour. “No choice is left, the deed is mine— Dead are they, dead !—and I will go, And, for their sakes, come weal or woe, Will lay the Relic on the shrine.”

So forward with a steady will He went, and traversed plain and hill; And up the vale of Wharf his way Pursued;—and, on the second day, He reached a summit whence his eyes Could see the Tower of Bolton rise. There Francis for a moment's space Made halt—but hark! a noise behind Of Horsemen at an eager pace! He heard and with misgiving mind. —’Tis Sir George Bowes who leads the Band: They come, by cruel Sussex sent ;