156
MARMION.
IV.
100Once walking thus, at evening tide,
It chanced a gliding sail she spied,
And, sighing, thought—'The Abbess, there,
Perchance, does to her home repair;
Her peaceful rule, where Duty, free,
105Walks hand in hand with Charity;
Where oft Devotion's tranced glow
Can such a glimpse of heaven bestow,
That the enraptured sisters see
High vision, and deep mystery;
110The very form of Hilda fair,
Hovering upon the sunny air,
And smiling on her votaries' prayer.
O! wherefore, to my duller eye,
Did still the Saint her form deny!
115Was it, that, sear'd by sinful scorn,
My heart could neither melt nor burn?
Or lie my warm affections low,
With him, that taught them first to glow?
Yet, gentle Abbess, well I knew,
120To pay thy kindness grateful due,
And well could brook the mild command,
That ruled thy simple maiden band.
How different now! condemn'd to bide
My doom from this dark tyrant's pride.—
125But Marmion has to learn, ere long,
That constant mind, and hate of wrong,
Descended to a feeble girl,
From Red De Clare, stout Gloster's Earl:
Of such a stem, a sapling weak,
130He ne'er shall bend, although he break.
100Once walking thus, at evening tide,
It chanced a gliding sail she spied,
And, sighing, thought—'The Abbess, there,
Perchance, does to her home repair;
Her peaceful rule, where Duty, free,
105Walks hand in hand with Charity;
Where oft Devotion's tranced glow
Can such a glimpse of heaven bestow,
That the enraptured sisters see
High vision, and deep mystery;
110The very form of Hilda fair,
Hovering upon the sunny air,
And smiling on her votaries' prayer.
O! wherefore, to my duller eye,
Did still the Saint her form deny!
115Was it, that, sear'd by sinful scorn,
My heart could neither melt nor burn?
Or lie my warm affections low,
With him, that taught them first to glow?
Yet, gentle Abbess, well I knew,
120To pay thy kindness grateful due,
And well could brook the mild command,
That ruled thy simple maiden band.
How different now! condemn'd to bide
My doom from this dark tyrant's pride.—
125But Marmion has to learn, ere long,
That constant mind, and hate of wrong,
Descended to a feeble girl,
From Red De Clare, stout Gloster's Earl:
Of such a stem, a sapling weak,
130He ne'er shall bend, although he break.
V.
'But see!—what makes this armour here?'—
For in her path there lay
Targe, corslet, helm;—she view'd them near.—
'The breast-plate pierced!—Ay, much I fear,
'But see!—what makes this armour here?'—
For in her path there lay
Targe, corslet, helm;—she view'd them near.—
'The breast-plate pierced!—Ay, much I fear,
