The summit of this bold ascent-- Though bleak and bare, and seldom free[128] As Pendle-hill or Pennygent From wind, or frost, or vapours wet-- Had often heard the sound of glee 15 When there the youthful Nortons met, To practice games and archery: How proud and happy they! the crowd Of Lookers-on how pleased and proud! And from the scorching noon-tide sun,[129] 20 From showers, or when the prize was won, They to the Tower withdrew, and there[130] Would mirth run round, with generous fare; And the stern old Lord of Rylstone-hall, Was happiest, proudest,[131] of them all! 25 But now, his Child, with anguish pale, Upon the height walks to and fro; 'Tis well that she hath heard the tale, Received the bitterness of woe: [132]For she _had_[133] hoped, had hoped and feared, 30 Such rights did feeble nature claim; And oft her steps had hither steered, Though not unconscious of self-blame; For she her brother's charge revered, His farewell words; and by the same, 35 Yea by her brother's very name, Had, in her solitude, been cheered. Beside the lonely watch-tower stood[134] That grey-haired Man of gentle blood, Who with her Father had grown old 40 In friendship; rival hunters they, And fellow warriors in their day: To Rylstone he the tidings brought; Then on this height the Maid had sought, And, gently as he could, had told 45 The end of that dire Tragedy,[135] Which it had been his lot to see. To him the Lady turned; "You said That Francis lives, _he_ is not dead?" "Your noble brother hath been spared; 50 To take his life they have not dared; On him and on his high endeavour The light of praise shall shine for ever! Nor did he (such Heaven's will) in vain His solitary course maintain; 55 Not vainly struggled in the might Of duty, seeing with clear sight; He was their comfort to the last, Their joy till every pang was past.