a legend of the south.
19
PART THIRD.
Grim and silent, in the moonlight,
An ancient chapel stood,
Where dwelt a priestly anchorite—
The humble and the good.
An ancient chapel stood,
Where dwelt a priestly anchorite—
The humble and the good.
With swift and quiet footsteps
The lovers bent their way,
Ah! toward this ruined chapel,
Guided by the moon's soft ray.
The lovers bent their way,
Ah! toward this ruined chapel,
Guided by the moon's soft ray.
They have passed the lonely threshold,
The holy man is there,
Before him is a crucifix,
Beside, a book of prayer.
The holy man is there,
Before him is a crucifix,
Beside, a book of prayer.
There's a deadly pallor resting
Upon the maiden's brow,
As they kneel with pious fervor,
To take the solemn vow
Upon the maiden's brow,
As they kneel with pious fervor,
To take the solemn vow
