Since I from Smaylho’me tower have been,
What did thy Lady do?”—
“My Lady, each night, sought the lonely light,
That burns on the wild Watchfold;
For, from height to height, the beacons bright
Of the English foemen told.
“The bittern clamoured from the moss,
The wind blew loud and shrill;
Yet the craggy pathway she did cross,