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Page:The Works of Lord Byron (ed. Coleridge, Prothero) - Volume 1.djvu/158

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Yes! in thy gloomy cells and shades profound,
The monk abjur'd a world, he ne'er could view;
Or blood-stain'd Guilt repenting, solace found,
Or Innocence, from stern Oppression, flew.


A Monarch bade thee from that wild arise,
Where Sherwood's outlaws, once, were wont to prowl;
And Superstition's crimes, of various dyes,
Sought shelter in the Priest's protecting cowl.


Where, now, the grass exhales a murky dew,
The humid pall of life-extinguish'd clay,
In sainted fame, the sacred Fathers grew,
Nor raised their pious voices, but to pray.


Where, now, the bats their wavering wings extend,
Soon as the gloaming[1] spreads her waning shade;[2]
The choir did, oft, their mingling vespers blend,
Or matin orisons to Mary[3] paid.

  1. As "gloaming," the Scottish word for twilight, is far more poetical, and has been recommended by many eminent literary men, particularly by Dr. Moore in his Letters to Burns, I have ventured to use it on account of its harmony.
  2. Soon as the twilight winds a waning shade.—[P. on V. Occasions.]
  3. The priory was dedicated to the Virgin.—[Hours of Idleness.]