Page:Poems - Southey (1799) volume 2.djvu/165

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153

And let this be three days and nights My wretched corpse to save,Preserve me so long from the fiendish throng And then I may rest in my grave.
The Old Woman of Berkeley laid her down And her eyes grew deadly dim,Short came her breath and the struggle of death Did loosen every limb.
They blest the old woman's winding sheet With rites and prayers as due,With holy water they sprinkled her shroud And they sprinkled her coffin too.
And they chain'd her in her coffin of stone And with iron barr'd it down,And in the church with three strong chains They chain'd it to the ground.
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