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HEUGHO.

It smote mine ear most strange and dolefully.

Is there soul in its sound which sadly says,
It is the last bell that shall Christians warn
To holy rites within these fated walls?
How many hundred years this sacred pavement
Has with the tread of Christian feet been worn!
And now——Heaven's will be done!

PRIEST.

So must we say, if that our term be come.

We are a wicked and luxurious race,
And we have pull'd this ruin on our heads.

HEUGHO.

But there are those who needs must fall beneath it,

Whose noble worth deserv'd a better fate.

PRIEST.

Think ye the grand assault will be so soon?

HEUGHO.

'Tis so believ'd: and see where now they come,

In gen'rous love and brotherhood united,
Who shall, perhaps, no more see evening's close,
Or under social roof of living men
E'er meet again.