Page:The white doe of Rylstone - or, The fate of the Nortons. A poem (IA whitedoeofrylsto00wordrich).pdf/152

 She knew it from the Falconer’s words, And from the look of the Falconer’s eye, And from the love which was in her soul For her youthful Romilly.

—Young Romilly through Barden Woods Is ranging high and low; And holds a Greyhound in a leash To let slip upon buck or doe;

And the Pair have reached that fearful chasm, How tempting to bestride! For lordly Wharf is there pent in With rocks on either side.

This Striding-place is called , A name which it took of yore: A thousand years hath it borne that name, And shall—a thousand more.