MARMION. CANTO SECOND. The Convent. I. THE breeze, which swept away the smoke, Round Norham Castle roll'd, When all the loud artillery spoke, With lightning-flash, and thunder-stroke, As Marmion left the Hold. It curl'd not Tweed alone, that breeze, For, far upon Northumbrian seas, It freshly blew, and strong, Where, from high Whitby's cloister'd pile, Bound to Saint Cuthbert's Holy Isle, It bore a bark along. Upon the gale she stoop'd her side, And bounded o'er the swelling tide, Their gallant ship so lustily Furrow the green sea foam. Much joy'd they in their honour'd 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 shriek'd, because the sea-dog, nigh, And one would still adjust her veil, The Abbess, and the Novice Clare. III. The Abbess was of noble blood, But early took the veil and hood, Or knew the world that she forsook. The deadliest sin her mind could reach, To emulate Saint Hilda's fame. For this, with carving rare and quaint, And gave the relique-shrine of cost, The poor her convent's bounty blest, IV. Black was her garb, her rigid rule Reform'd on Benedictine school; Her cheek was pale, her form was spare; Had early quench'd the light of youth, Sad was this voyage to the dame ; Summon'd to Lindisfarn, she came, |