Guendolen.
209
Answered her call and whet its bill
Against the rim of its silver swing.
And once from turrets twain, enshrined
Deep in the heart of a wooded dell,
A sound came coupled with the wind
Like a slow counted knell.
"How goes the night by the abbey bell?"
Cried Ursula, awaking then;
"'Tis twelve o' the clock," said Guendolen;
"Get thee to rest," said Guendolen;
"For me, good mother, I may not sleep,
So wild a wind comes up the glen,
So wild a moan the forests keep."
Now to her rest the crone hath gone;
Ralph asleep in the warder's chair,
Is sitting without by the postern stair;
And Guendolen watches alone.
Against the rim of its silver swing.
And once from turrets twain, enshrined
Deep in the heart of a wooded dell,
A sound came coupled with the wind
Like a slow counted knell.
"How goes the night by the abbey bell?"
Cried Ursula, awaking then;
"'Tis twelve o' the clock," said Guendolen;
"Get thee to rest," said Guendolen;
"For me, good mother, I may not sleep,
So wild a wind comes up the glen,
So wild a moan the forests keep."
Now to her rest the crone hath gone;
Ralph asleep in the warder's chair,
Is sitting without by the postern stair;
And Guendolen watches alone.
Swart shadows seemed to peer and float
Deep in the corners and niches dim;
Over and under the rafters grim
Flitted the bat; and an owl without,
Deep in the corners and niches dim;
Over and under the rafters grim
Flitted the bat; and an owl without,
