The eve of StAgnes . ans fingers while he toldHis rosary, and while his frosted breath,Like pious incense from a censer old,Seemd taking flight for heaven without a the sweet Virgins picture, while his prayer he saith. II. His prayer he saith, this patient, holy man;Then takes his lamp, and riseth from his knees,And back returneth, meagre, barefoot, wan,Along the chapel aisle by slow degrees:The sculptured dead on each side seemd to freeze,Emprisond in black, purgatorial , ladies, praying in dumb passeth by; and his weak spirit failsTo think how they may ach
The eve of StAgnes . ans fingers while he toldHis rosary, and while his frosted breath,Like pious incense from a censer old,Seemd taking flight for heaven without a the sweet Virgins picture, while his prayer he saith. II. His prayer he saith, this patient, holy man;Then takes his lamp, and riseth from his knees,And back returneth, meagre, barefoot, wan,Along the chapel aisle by slow degrees:The sculptured dead on each side seemd to freeze,Emprisond in black, purgatorial , ladies, praying in dumb passeth by; and his weak spirit failsTo think how they may ache in icy hoods and mails. III. Northward he turneth through a little door,And scarce three steps, ere Musics golden tongueFlatterd to tears this aged man and , no — already had his death-bell rung;The joys of all his life were said and sung:His was harsh penance on St. Agnes Eve!Another way he went, and soon amongRough ashes sat he for his souls all night kept awake, for sinners sake to That ancient Beadsman lieard the prelude soft;And so it chanced, for many a door was wide,From hurry to and fro. Soon, up aloft,The silver, snarling trumpets gan to chide;Tlie level chambers, ready with their glowing to receive a thousand guests;The carved angels, ever eager-eyed,Stared, where upon their heads the cornice hair blown back, and wings put cross-wise on their breasts. V. At length burst in the argent revelry,With plume, tiara, and all rich array,Numerous as shadows haunting fairilyThe brain, new stufifd in youth, with triumphs gayOf old romance. These let us wish away,And turn, sole-thoughted, to one Lady heart had brooded all that wintry dayOn love, and wingd St. Agnes saintly care,As she had heard old dames full many times declare.
Size: 1350px × 1851px
Photo credit: © The Reading Room / Alamy / Afripics
License: Licensed
Model Released: No
Keywords: ., bookcentury1800, bookdecade1880, bookpublisherbosto, bookyear1885
