THE CONISTON CURSE.
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No more in that calm sanctuary its vestal maids abide,
Save one, Sir John De Coniston, and that one is thy bride;
The sister band to other homes at will might wander free,
And their lonely prioress had fled a pilgrim o'er the sea.
Seven years St. Edith's votary had wander'd far and near,
Barefoot and fasting, she has call'd on every saint to hear:
Seven years of joy and festival have pass'd away like hours,
Since that priory had changed its state to a baron's lordly towers.
T 3
