Rowena & HaroldA Romance in Rhyme of an Olden Time, of Hastyngs and Normanhurst
 At length the lingering weeks of healing passed He e'en must quit for aye Her angel tent. "Take me. Sir knight, to be your slave alway! O leave me not, or my poor heart is rent!" She said, and at his feet her tender form she cast. 

At length the lingering weeks of healing passed

He e'en must quit for aye

Her angel tent.

"Take me. Sir knight, to be your slave alway!

O leave me not, or my poor heart is rent!"

 He bade her rise! then heard her fearful tale— An orphan doomed to be A lifelong slave And serve a tyrant's lust and infamy. From such, Sir Harold swore he would her save, Whate'er the cost the deed might to himself entail. 

He bade her rise! then heard her fearful tale—

An orphan doomed to be

A lifelong slave

And serve a tyrant's lust and infamy.

From such, Sir Harold swore he would her save,

 

 

 The Secret Assassin. 

 He smuggled her on board one darksome night. In deepest hold she lay, Till safe at sea. And when at last they found the stow-away The hearts of all rejoiced that she was free While midst the sick she moved a minist'ring sprite. 

He smuggled her on board one darksome night.

In deepest hold she lay,

Till safe at sea.

And when at last they found the stow-away


 Prev. P 13/54 next 
Back Top
Privacy Statement Terms of Service Contact