Page:Marmion - Walter Scott (ed. Bayne, 1889).pdf/87

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CANTO II.
57
That you shall wish the fiery DaneHad rather been your guest again.575Behind, a darker hour ascends!The altars quake, the crosier bends,The ire of a despotic KingRides forth upon destruction's wing;Then shall these vaults, so strong and deep,580Burst open to the sea-winds' sweep;Some traveller then shall find my bonesWhitening amid disjointed stones,And, ignorant of priests' cruelty,Marvel such relics here should be.'
XXXII.585Fix'd was her look, and stern her air:Back from her shoulders stream'd her hair;The locks, that wont her brow to shade,Stared up erectly from her head;Her figure seem'd to rise more high;590Her voice, despair's wild energyHad given a tone of prophecy.Appall'd the astonish'd conclave sate;With stupid eyes, the men of fateGazed on the light inspired form,595And listen'd for the avenging storm;The judges felt the victim's dread;No hand was moved, no word was said,Till thus the Abbot's doom was given,Raising his sightless balls to heaven:—600'Sister, let thy sorrows cease;Sinful brother, part in peace!' From that dire dungeon, place of doom, Of execution too, and tomb,  Paced forth the judges three;605 Sorrow it were, and shame, to tell The butcher-work that there befell, When they had glided from the cell  Of sin and misery.
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