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THE CONISTON CURSE.



Rough was Sir John De Coniston, and hasty in his mood,
And, soldier-like, then answer'd he, in angry speech and rude:
"I would not back although my path were lined with hostile swords,
And deem'st thou I will turn aside for only woman's words?"

She raised her voice, the curse was pass'd; and to their dying day
The sound, like thunder in their ears, will never pass away;
Still haunted them those flashing eyes, that brow of funeral stone.
When the words were said, she veil'd her face—the prioress was gone.