XXIII.

Yet well the luckless wretch might shriek,

Well might her paleness terror speak!

For there were seen, in that dark wall,

Two niches, narrow, deep, and tall;

Who enters at such grisly door

Shall ne’er, I ween, find exit more.

In each a slender meal was laid,

Of roots, of water, and of bread:

By each, in Benedictine dress,

Two haggard monks stood motionless;

Who, holding high a blazing torch,

Showed the grim entrance of the porch:

Reflecting back the smoky beam,

The dark-red walls and arches gleam.

Hewn stones and cement were displayed,

And building tools in order laid.

Marmion: A Tale Of Flodden Field · 第 61 / 213 题