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She turned to him, who with his eye
Was watching her while on the height
She sate, or wandered restlessly,
O’erburdened by her sorrow’s weight;
To him who this dire news had told,
And now beside the Mourner stood;
(That grey-haired Man of gentle blood,
Who with her Father had grown old
In friendship, rival Hunters they,
And fellow Warriors in their day)
To Rylstone he the tidings brought;
Then on this place the Maid had sought:
And told, as gently as could be,
The end of that sad Tragedy,
Which it had been his lot to see.
To him the Lady turned; ”You said
That Francis lives, he is not dead?”
