Page:Marmion - Walter Scott (ed. Bayne, 1889).pdf/104

That fell so ominous and drear,
265Full on the object of his fear,
To aid remorse's venom'd throes,
Dark tales of convent-vengeance rose;
And Constance, late betray'd and scorn'd,
All lovely on his soul return'd;
270Lovely as when, at treacherous call,
She left her convent's peaceful wall,
Crimson'd with shame, with terror mute,
Dreading alike escape, pursuit,
Till love, victorious o'er alarms,
275Hid fears and blushes in his arms.

XVII.
'Alas!' he thought, 'how changed that mien!
How changed these timid looks have been,
Since years of guilt, and of disguise,
Have steel'd her brow, and arm'd her eyes!
280No more of virgin terror speaks
The blood that mantles in her cheeks;
Fierce, and unfeminine, are there,
Frenzy for joy, for grief despair;
And I the cause—for whom were given
285Her peace on earth, her hopes in heaven!—
Would,' thought he, as the picture grows,
'I on its stalk had left the rose!
Oh, why should man's success remove
The very charms that wake his love!—
290Her convent's peaceful solitude
Is now a prison harsh and rude;
And, pent within the narrow cell,
How will her spirit chafe and swell!
How brook the stern monastic laws!
295The penance how—and I the cause!—
Vigil, and scourge—perchance even worse!'—
And twice he rose to cry, 'To horse!'
And twice his Sovereign's mandate came,
Like damp upon a kindling flame;