How, when the rude Dane burned their pile, But though, alive, he loved it well, In his stone coffin forth he rides, Downward to Tilmouth cell. Hailed him with joy and fear; Looks down upon the Wear. 260 270 There, deep in Durham's Gothic shade, 280 But none may know the place, Save of his holiest servants three, Who share that wondrous grace. XV. Who may his miracles declare? Galwegians, wild as ocean's gale, And Lodon's knights, all sheathed in mail, Before his standard fled. 'T was he, to vindicate his reign, 290 XVI. But fain Saint Hilda's nuns would learn Saint Cuthbert sits, and toils to frame And hear his anvil sound; A deadened clang, -a huge dim form, But this, as tale of idle fame, XVII. While round the fire such legends go, It was more dark and lone, that vault, Old Colwulf built it, for his fault In penitence to dwell, When he for cowl and beads laid down The Saxon battle-axe and crown. This den, which, chilling every sense Of feeling, hearing, sight, Was called the Vault of Penitence, Excluding air and light, Was by the prelate Sexhelm made 300 310 320 'T was now a place of punishment; Whence if so loud a shriek were sent As reached the upper air, The hearers blessed themselves, and said The spirits of the sinful dead Bemoaned their torments there. 330 XVIII. But though, in the monastic pile, Few only, save the Abbot, knew Where the place lay, and still more few Were blindfold when transported there. Which served to light this drear domain, And yet it dimly served to show The awful conclave met below. 340 350 XIX. There, met to doom in secrecy, Were placed the heads of convents three, All servants of Saint Benedict, The statutes of whose order strict In long black dress, on seats of stone, By the pale cresset's ray. The Abbess of Saint Hilda's there And she with awe looks pale; And he, that ancient man, whose sight Saint Cuthbert's Abbot is his style, The Saint of Lindisfarne. XX. Before them stood a guilty pair; But, though an equal fate they share, Yet one alone deserves our care. Her sex a page's dress belied; The cloak and doublet, loosely tied, And, on her doublet breast, She tried to hide the badge of blue, Lord Marmion's falcon crest. 360 370 380 390 |