Page:The Prose Works of Percy Bysshe Shelley (Volume 1).djvu/240

192 XIII.
 * And the storm-fiend's wild rave
 * O'er the new-made grave,

And dread shadows, linger around.
 * The Monk call'd on God his soul to save,

And, in horror, sank on the ground.

XIV.
 * Then despair nerv'd his arm
 * To dispel the charm,

And he burst Rosa's coffin asunder.
 * And the fierce storm did swell
 * More terrific and fell,

And louder peal'd the thunder.

XV. And laugh'd, in joy, the fiendish throng,
 * Mix'd with ghosts of the mouldering dead:

And their grisly wings, as they floated along,
 * Whistled in murmurs dread.

XVI. And her skeleton form the dead Nun rear'd,
 * Which dripp'd with the chill dew of hell.

In her half-eaten eyeballs two pale flames appear'd, And triumphant their gleam on the dark Monk glar'd,
 * As he stood within the cell.

XVII. And her lank hand lay on his shuddering brain;
 * But each power was nerv'd by fear.—

"I never, henceforth, may breathe again; Death now ends mine anguish'd pain.—
 * The grave yawns,—we meet there."

XVIII. And her skeleton lungs did utter the sound,
 * So deadly, so lone, and so fell,

That in long vibrations shudder'd the ground; And as the stern notes floated around,
 * A deep groan was answer'd from hell.