The laughing voice broke off
In the middle of its tale—
And each one shudder'd as he saw
His neighbour ghastly pale.
Heavily on the air
There toll'd a midnight bell—
And every heart sank down
It was so like a knell.
With a weak and trembling step,
Rose the Prior from his place;
His voice was faint, his eyes were wild—
It was a corpse's face.
"Now think upon your God—
For I warn ye, we shall meet,
Ere another hour is past,
Before his judgment-seat!
"Spoilers of God's fair earth!
Profaners of his shrine!
Ye have feasted, and unto death—
Mortal poison was in your wine!"
The morning Sun arose—
Still the festal board was spread—
Still hosts and guests were round;
But hosts and guests were dead!IOLE.
- In the Literary Gazette, five or six years ago, the event
was related on which this poem is founded. A wild and
triumphant party of French officers were so entertained
at a convent where they had established their head
quarters.—I.
