Marmion . said,Suppose the Convent banquet made: All through the holy cloister, aisle, and gallery,Wherever vestal maid might risk to meet unhallowed eye. The stranger sisters roam :Till fell the evening damp with dew,And the sharp sea-l^reeze coldly blew,For there, even summer night is , having strayed and gazed their fill, Tliey closed around the fire ;And all, in turn, essayed to paintThe rival merits of their saint, A theme that neer can tireA holy maid; for, be it their saints honor is their own. XIII. Tlicn Whitbys nuns exulting told,How to their
Marmion . said,Suppose the Convent banquet made: All through the holy cloister, aisle, and gallery,Wherever vestal maid might risk to meet unhallowed eye. The stranger sisters roam :Till fell the evening damp with dew,And the sharp sea-l^reeze coldly blew,For there, even summer night is , having strayed and gazed their fill, Tliey closed around the fire ;And all, in turn, essayed to paintThe rival merits of their saint, A theme that neer can tireA holy maid; for, be it their saints honor is their own. XIII. Tlicn Whitbys nuns exulting told,How to their house three Barons bold Must menial service do;While horns blow out a note of monks cry, Fye upon your name!In wrath, for loss of sylvan game, 82 MAILMIOK CANTO II. Saint Hildas priest ye slew. —This, on Ascension-day, eucli year,While laboring on our harbor-i) Herbert, Bruce, and Percy hear. —They told, how in their convent-cellA Saxon ])rincess once did dwell. The lovely Edclfied ;. And how, of thousand snakes, each oneWas changed into a coil of stone. When holy Hilda ])rayed ;Themselves, within their holy stony folds had often told, how sea-fowls pinions over Whitbys towers they , sinking down, with fiutterings faint,They do their homage to the saint. CANTO II. THU CONVENT. 83 XIV. Nor did Saint Cuthberts daughters fail, T(^ vie Avith these in holy tale ; His bodys resting-place, of old, How oft their patron changed, the} told; How, when the rude Dane burned their pile, The monks fled forth from Holy Isle ; Oer northern mountain, marsh, and m!jor. From sea to sea, from shore to shore. Seven years Saint Cuthberts corpse they bore. They rested them in fair Melrose ;But though, alive, he loved it well. Not there his relics might repose;For, wondrous tale to tell! In his stone-coflin forth he rides, A ponderous bark for river tides, Yet light as gossamer it to Tilmouth long was his abiding the
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