Page:Poems - Southey (1799) volume 2.djvu/193

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Maddened the waves, and tho' the mariner,Albeit relying on his saintly load,Grew pale to see the peril. So he livedA most austere and self-denying man,Till abstinence, and age, and watchfulnessExhausted him, and it was pain at lastTo rise at midnight from his bed of leavesAnd bend his knees in prayer. Yet not the lessTho' with reluctance of infirmity,He rose at midnight from his bed of leavesAnd bent his knees in prayer; but with more zealMore self-condemning fervour rais'd his voiceFor pardon for that sin, 'till that the sinRepented was a joy like a good deed.
One night upon the shore his chapel bellWas heard; the air was calm, and its far soundsOver the water came distinct and loud.Alarmed at that unusual hour to hearIts toll irregular, a monk arose.
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