"But a woman's will dies hard, in the hall or on the sward!"— Toll slowly. "By that grave, my lords, which made me orphaned girl and dowered lady, I deny you wife and ward."
Unto each she bowed her head, and swept past with lofty tread. Toll slowly. Ere the midnight-bell had ceased, in the chapel had the priest Blessed her, bride of Linteged.
Fast and fain the bridal train along the night-storm rode amain:— Toll slowly. Hard the steeds of lord and serf struck their hoofs out on the turf, In the pauses of the rain.
Fast and fain the kinsmen's train along the storm pursued amain— Toll slowly. Steed on steed-track, dashing off—thickening, doubling, hoof on hoof, In the pauses of the rain.
And the bridegroom led the flight on his red-roan steed of might,— Toll slowly. And the bride lay on his arm, still, as if she feared no harm, Smiling out into the night.
"Dost thou fear?" he said at last;—"Nay!" she answered him in haste,— Toll slowly. "Not such death as we could find—only life with one behind— Ride on fast as fear—ride fast!"
Up the mountain wheeled the steed—girth to ground, and fetlocks spread,— Toll slowly. Headlong bounds, and rocking flanks,—down he staggered—down the banks, To the towers of Linteged.
High and low the serfs looked out, red the flambeaus tossed about,— Toll slowly. In the courtyard rose the cry—"Live the Duchess and Sir Guy!" But she never heard them shout.
On the steed she dropt her cheek, kissed his mane and kissed his neck,— Toll slowly. "I had happier died by thee, than lived on a Lady Leigh," Were the first words she did speak.
But a three months' joyaunce lay 'twixt that moment and to-day,— Toll slowly. When five hundred archers tall stand beside the castle wall, To recapture Duchess May.