Page:The Prose Works of Percy Bysshe Shelley (Volume 1).djvu/239

Rh Were delights to his agoniz'd pain.
 * And he pray'd to God to dissolve the spell,

Which else must for ever remain.

VIII. And in fervent pray'r he knelt on the ground,
 * Till the abbey bell struck One:

His feverish blood ran chill at the sound: A voice hollow and horrible murmur'd around,
 * "The term of thy penance is done!"

IX.
 * Grew dark the night;
 * The moon-beam bright

Wax'd faint on the mountain high;
 * And, from the black hill,
 * Went a voice cold and still,—

"Monk! thou art free to die."

X.
 * Then he rose on his feet,
 * And his heart loud did beat,

And his limbs they were palsied with dread;
 * Whilst the grave's clammy dew
 * O'er his pale forehead grew;

And he shudder'd to sleep with the dead.

XI.
 * And the wild midnight storm
 * Rav'd around his tall form,

As he sought the chapel's gloom:
 * And the sunk grass did sigh
 * To the wind, bleak and high,

As he search'd for the new-made tomb.

XII.
 * And forms, dark and high,
 * Seem'd around him to fly,

And mingle their yells with the blast:
 * And on the dark wall
 * Half-seen shadows did fall,

As enhorror'd he onward pass'd.