MARMION. CANTO SECOND. The Convent. I. THE breeze, which swept away the smoke, Round Norham Castle rolled, When all the loud artillery spoke, With lightning-flash, and thunder-stroke, As Marmion left the Hold. It curled not Tweed alone, that breeze; For, far upon Northumbrian seas, It freshly blew, and strong, Where, from high Whitby's cloistered pile, Bound to Saint Cuthbert's Holy Isle, It bore a bark along. Upon the gale she stooped her side, And bounded o'er the swelling tide, As she were dancing home; The merry seamen laughed, to see Their gallant ship so lustily Furrow the green sea-foam. Much joyed they in their honoured freight; For, on the deck, in chair of state, The Abbess of Saint Hilda placed, With five fair nuns, the galley graced. II. "Twas sweet to see these holy maids, Like birds escaped to green-wood shades, Their first flight from the cage, How timid, and how curious too, For all to them was strange and new, And all the common sights they view, Their wonderment engage. One eyed the shrouds and swelling sail, One at the rippling surge grew pale, And would for terror pray; Then shrieked, because the sea-dog, nigh, And one would still adjust her veil, Perchance lest some more worldly eye Light was each simple bosom there, Save two, who ill might pleasure share,- The Abbess, and the Novice Clare. III. The Abbess was of noble blood, But early took the veil and hood, Ere upon life she cast a look, Or knew the world that she forsook. Nor knew the influence of her eye; Her hopes, her fears, her joys, were all Bounded within the cloister wall: The deadliest sin her mind could reach, Was of monastic rule the breach; And her ambition's highest aim, To emulate Saint Hilda's fame. For this she gave her ample dower, To raise the convent's eastern tower; For this, with carving rare and quaint, She decked the chapel of the saint, And gave the relique-shrine of cost, The poor her convent's bounty blest, The pilgrim in its halls found rest. IV. Black was her garb, her rigid rule Reformed on Benedictine school; Her cheek was pale, her form was spare ; Vigils, and penitence austere, Had early quenched the light of youth, Though vain of her religious sway, She loved to see her maids obey, Yet nothing stern was she in cell, And the nuns loved their Abbess well. Sad was this voyage to the dame; Summoned to Lindisfarn, she came, F |