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

118 6.

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.

7.

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.

8.

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.

9.

Where, now, the bats their wavering wings extend,

Soon as the gloaming spreads her waning shade;

The choir did, oft, their mingling vespers blend,

Or matin orisons to Mary paid.