Page:Marmion - Walter Scott (ed. Bayne, 1889).pdf/83

Who enters at such grisly door,
Shall ne'er, I ween, find exit more.
440In each a slender meal was laid,
Of roots, of water, and of bread:
By each, in Benedictine dress,
Two haggard monks stood motionless;
Who, holding high a blazing torch,
445Show'd the grim entrance of the porch:
Reflecting back the smoky beam,
The dark-red walls and arches gleam.
Hewn stones and cement were display'd,
And building tools in order laid.

XXIV.
450These executioners were chose,
As men who were with mankind foes,
And with despite and envy fired,
Into the cloister had retired;
 Or who, in desperate doubt of grace,
455 Strove, by deep penance, to efface
  Of some foul crime the stain;
 For, as the vassals of her will,
 Such men the Church selected still,
 As either joy'd in doing ill,
460  Or thought more grace to gain,
If, in her cause, they wrestled down
Feelings their nature strove to own.
By strange device were they brought there,
They knew not how, and knew not where.

XXV.
465And now that blind old Abbot rose,
 To speak the Chapter's doom,
On those the wall was to enclose,
 Alive, within the tomb;
But stopp'd, because that woful Maid,
470Gathering her powers, to speak essay'd.
Twice she essay'd, and twice in vain;
Her accents might no utterance gain;