Page:Poems Kemble.djvu/142

Abbot and monk, with many a torch,
Came winding from each convent porch;
And holy maids from Nonnenwerth,
In the pale moonlight all came forth;
Thy love, Roland, among the rest,
Her meek hands folded on her breast,
Her sad eyes turned to heaven, where thou
Once more shalt hear love's early vow,—
That vow, which led thee home again
From Roncevalles' bloody plain,—
That vow, that ne'er again was spoken
Till death the nun's drear oath had broken.
Down from each crumbling castle poured,
Of ruthless robber-knights, the horde,
Sweeping with clang and clamour by,
Like storm-cloud rattling through the sky:
Pageant so glorious ne'er, I ween,
On lonely river bank was seen.

So passed that night: but with the day
The vision melted all away;
And wrapped in sullen mist and rain,
The river bore us on again,
With heavy hearts and tearful eyes,
That answered well the weeping skies