Page:The Prose Works of Percy Bysshe Shelley (Volume 1).djvu/238

190 II.
 * And the cold hand of death
 * Chills his shuddering breath,

As he lists to the fearful lay
 * Which the ghosts of the sky,
 * As they sweep wildly by,

Sing to departed day.
 * And they sing of the hour
 * When the stern fates had power

To resolve Rosa's form to its clay.

III.
 * But that hour is past;
 * And that hour was the last

Of peace to the dark monk's brain.
 * Bitter tears, from his eyes, gush'd silent and fast;

And he strove to suppress them in vain.

IV.
 * Then his fair cross of gold he dash'd on the floor,

When the death-knell struck on his ear.
 * Delight is in store
 * For her evermore;

But for me is fate, horror, and fear.

V.
 * Then his eyes wildly roll'd,
 * When the death-bell toll'd,

And he rag'd in terrific woe.
 * And he stamp'd on the ground,—
 * But when ceas'd the sound

Tears again began to flow.

VI.
 * And the ice of despair
 * Chill'd the wild throb of care,

And he sate in mute agony still;
 * Till the night-stars shone through the cloudless air,

And the pale moon-beam slept on the hill.

VII.
 * Then he knelt in his cell:—
 * And the horrors of hell