The poetical works of Sir Walter Scott ... Notes & life of the author.

126 MARMON., OAItO I
Some traveller then shal.- find my bones,
Whitening amid disjointed stones,
And, ignorant of priests' cruelty,
Marvel such reliques here should be.s'- -
XXXIL
Fixed was her look, and stern her air;
Back from her shoulders streamed her hair;
The locks, that wont her.brow to Ahsde,
Stared up erectly from her head;
Her figure seemed to rise more.highs;
Her voice, despair's wild energy
Had given a tone of prophecy.
Appalled the astonished conclave sato
With stupid eyes, the men of fate
Gazed on the light inspired form,
And listened for the avenging storm;
The judges felt the victim's dread;
No hand was moved, no word was said,
Till ihus the Abbot's doom was given,
Raising his sightless balls to heaven. —
" Sister, let thy sorrows cease;
Sinful brother, part in peacel" —
From that dire dungeon, place of doom,
Of execution too, and tomb,
Paced forth the judges three;
Sorrow it were, and shame, to tell
The butcher-work that there befell,
When they had glided from the cell
Of sin and misery.
XXXIIIL
An hundred winding steps convey
That conclave to the upper day;
But, ere they breathed the fresher air,
They heard the shriekings of despair,
And many a stifled groan:
With speed their upward way they take,
(Such speed as age and fear can mnake,)
And crossed themselves for terror's sake,
As hurrying, tottering on.
Even in the vesper's heavenly tone,
They seemed to hear a dying groan,
And bade the passing knell to toll
For welfare of a parting soul.
Slow o'er the midnight wave it swung,
Northumbrian rocks in answer rung;
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