Page:The white doe of Rylstone - or, The fate of the Nortons. A poem (IA whitedoeofrylsto00wordrich).pdf/92

 Far underground is many a cave, Where they might lie as in the grave, Until this storm hath ceased to rave; Or let them cross the River Tweed, And be at once from peril freed!”

—“Ah tempt me not!” she faintly sighed; “I will not counsel nor exhort,— With my condition satisfied; But you, at least, may make report Of what befalls;—be this your task— This may be done ;–’tis all I ask!”

She spake—and from the Lady’s sight The Sire, unconscious of his age, Departed promptly as a Page Bound on some errand of delight. —The noble Francis—wise as brave, Thought he, may have the skill to save :