"For he attaints that rival's fame

"With treason's charge-and on they came,

"In mortal lists to fight.

"Their oaths are said,

"Their prayers are pray'd,

"Their lances in the rest are laid,

"They meet in mortal shock;

And, hark! the throng, with thundering cry,

"Shout Marmion, Marmion! to the sky,

"De Wilton to the block!"

"Say ye, who preach Heaven shall decide

“When in the lists two champions ride,

Say, was Heaven's justice here?

"When, loyal in his love and faith,

"Wilton found overthrow or death,

"Beneath a traitor's spear ?

"How false the charge, how true he fell, "This guilty packet best can tell."—

Then drew a packet from her breast,

Paused, gather'd voice, and spoke the rest.

XXIX.

"Still was false Marmion's bridal staid;

"To Whitby's convent fled the maid,

"The hated match to shun.

"Ho! shifts she thus?' King Henry cried,

"Sir Marmion, she shall be thy bride,

"If she were sworn á nun.'

"One way remain'd-the King's command

"Sent Marmion to the Scottish land :

"I linger'd here, and rescue plann'd

"For Clara and for me:

"This caitiff Monk, for gold, did swear, "He would to Whitby's shrine repair,

"And, by his drugs, my rival fair

"A saint in heaven should be.

"But ill the dastard kept his oath,

"Whose cowardice has undone us both.

XXX.

"And now my tongue the secret tells,

"Not that remorse my bosom swells,

"But to assure my soul that none

"Shall ever wed with Marmion.

"Had fortune my last hope betray'd, "This packet, to the King convey'd, "Had given him to the headsman's stroke, Although my heart that instant broke.— "Now, men of death, work forth your will, "For I can suffer, and be still;

"And come he slow, or come he fast,

"It is but Death who comes at last.

XXXI.

"Yet dread me, from my living tomb, "Ye vassal slaves of bloody Rome!

"If Marmion's late remorse should wake, “Full soon such vengeance will he take, "That you shall wish the fiery Dane “Had rather been your guest again. “Behind, a darker hour ascends!

"The altars quake, the crosier bends,

"The ire of a despotic King

"Rides forth upon destruction's wing.

"Then shall these vaults, so strong and deep,

"Burst open to the sea-winds' sweep;

"Some traveller then shall find my bones,

"And, ignorant of priests' cruelty,

"Marvel such relics here should be."

XXXII.

Fix'd was her look, and stern her air;

Back from her shoulders stream'd her hair;

The locks, that wont her brow to shade,

Stared up erectly from her head;

Her figure seem'd to rise more hig;

Her voice, despair's wild energy

Had given a tone of prophecy.

Appall'd the astonish'd conclave sate;

With stupid eyes, the men of fate

Gazed on the light inspired form,

And listen'd for the avenging storm;
The judges felt the victim's dread;
No hand was moved, no word was said,
Till thus the Abbot's doom was given,
Raising his sightless balls to Heaven :-

66

Sister, let thy sorrows cease;

"Sinful brother, part in peace !"

From that dire dungeon, place of doom,

Of execution too, and tomb,

Paced forth the judges three; Sorrow it were, and shame, to tell The butcher-work that there befell, When they had glided from the cell

Of sin and misery.

XXXIII.

An hundred winding steps convey

That conclave to the upper day;