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And he thought on the days that were long
since by, When his limbs were strong, and his courage
was high :Now, slow and faint, he led the way, Where, cloister'd round, the garden lay ; The pillar'd arches were over their head, And beneath their feet were the bones of the dead.
VIII. 12 PREADING herbs, and flowerets bright,
Glisten'd with the dew of night; Nor herb, nor floweret, glisten’d there, But was carved in the cloister-arches as
fair. The Monk gazed long on the lovely moon,
Then into the night he looked forth ; And red and bright the streamers light
Were dancing in the glowing north. So had he seen, in fair Castile,
The youth in glittering squadrons start ; Sudden the flying jennet wheel,
And hurl the unexpected dart.
He knew, by the streamers that shot so
bright, That spirits were riding the northern light.
IX. 1 Y a steel-clenched postern door,
They enter'd now the chancel tall ; The darken'd roof rose high aloof
On pillars lofty and light and small : The key-stone, that lock'd each ribbed aisle, Was a fleur-de-lys, or a quatre-feuille ; The corbellst were carved grotesque and
grim ; And the pillars, with cluster'd shafts so trim, With base and with capital flourish'd around, Seem'd bundles of lances which garlands had bound.
x. BULL many a scutcheon and banner riven,
Shook to the cold night-wind of heaven, Around the screened altar's pale ; And there the dying lamps did burn, Before thy low and lonely urn, O gallant Chief of Otterburne !+
And thine, dark Knight of Liddesdale !+ O fading honours of the dead ! O high ambition, lowly laid !
AHE moon on the east oriel shone
Through slender shafts of shapely stone, By foliaged tracery combined ; Thou would'st have thought some fairy's
hand 'Twixt poplars straight the ozier wand,
In many a freakish knot, had twined Then framed a spell, when the work was
The silver light so pale and faint,
And trampled the Apostate's pride.
" HEY sate them down on a marble stone,
A Scottish monarch slept below; Thus spoke the Monk, in solemn tone :
“I was not always a man of woe; For Paynim countries I have trod, And fought beneath the Cross of God : Now, strange to my eyes thine arms appear, And their iron clang sounds strange to my ear.
To meet the wondrous Michael Scott ;t
The bells would ring in Notre Dame ! Some of his skill he taught to me; And, Warrior, I could say to thee The words that cleft Eildon hills in three, And bridled the Tweed with a curb of
stone.t But to speak them were a deadly sin ;
And for having but thought them my heart
XIV. “MHEN Michael lay on his dying bed,
hos His conscience was awakened: He bethought him of his sinful deed, And he gave me a sign to come with speed : I was in Spain when the morning rose, But I stood by his bed ere evening close. The words may not again be said, That he spoke to me, on death-bed laid ; They would rend this Abbaye's massy nave, And pile it in heaps above his grave.
“ SWORE to bury his Mighty Book,