_vis major_, but worse days were in front of her, for she lived on to
see the nunnery itself despoiled, and the fair domains she had during a
long life preserved and maintained for religious uses handed over to the
son of her former ward, Isabella Thwaites.

Our poet begins by referring to the modest dimensions of the house, and
the natural charms of its surroundings:--

"The house was built upon the place,
Only as for a mark of grace,
And for an inn to entertain
Its Lord awhile, but not remain.
Him Bishop's-hill or Denton may,
Or Billborow, better hold than they:
But Nature here hath been so free,
As if she said, 'Leave this to me.'
Art would more neatly have defac'd
What she had laid so sweetly waste
In fragrant gardens, shady woods,
Deep meadows, and transparent floods."

And then starts the story:--

"While, with slow eyes, we these survey,
And on each pleasant footstep stay,
We opportunely may relate
The progress of this house's fate.
A nunnery first gave it birth,
(For virgin buildings oft brought forth)
And all that neighbour-ruin shows