Classic Poem

When Eric woke to thought, the light had flown,
With Hope upon its wing
And left Despair.
One thought alone could light and comfort bring--
His secret--This, not death should from him tear.
Rowena's safe retreat, he never would make known!

The rasp of grating chains and rush of air
Awoke the sleeping page
From frightful dreams.
A voice he heard. Alas! 'twas fierce with rage,
While on his sight there flashed the fitful gleams
Of warders' arms. In haste they clangour down the stair.

"Come forth, young man! Sir Guy awaits above.
We dare not tarry long;
He's mad this morn.
Keep up your heart, my son! Be firm, be strong!
A page, yet truer knight was never born!
Betray her not, brave youth, as you esteem her love!"