Page:The white doe of Rylstone - or, The fate of the Nortons. A poem (IA whitedoeofrylsto00wordrich).pdf/26

 Round and through this Pile of state, Overthrown and desolate! Now a step or two her way Is through space of open day, Where the enamoured sunny light Brightens her that was so bright; Now doth a delicate shadow fall, Falls upon her like a breath, From some lofty arch or wall, As she passes underneath : Now some gloomy nook partakes Of the glory that she makes,— High-ribbed vault of stone, or cell With perfect cunning framed as well Of stone, and ivy, and the spread Of the elder’s bushy head; Some jealous and forbidding cell, That doth the living stars repel, And where no flower hath leave to dwell.