The lord of the isles . an upward rang. The Abbot comes! they cry at once. •• The holy man, whose favourd glance Hath sainted visions known ;Angels have mel him on the the blessed martyrs hay, And by Corumbas monks have heard their hymningsSound from the summit of Dun-Y,To cheer his penance lone,When at each cross, on girth and wold,(Their number thrice a hundred-fold,)His prayer he made, his heads he told, With Aves many a one—He comes our feuds to reconcile,A sainted man from sainted isle ;We will his holy doom abide,The Abbot shall OUT strife decide. XXII. Scarcely this
The lord of the isles . an upward rang. The Abbot comes! they cry at once. •• The holy man, whose favourd glance Hath sainted visions known ;Angels have mel him on the the blessed martyrs hay, And by Corumbas monks have heard their hymningsSound from the summit of Dun-Y,To cheer his penance lone,When at each cross, on girth and wold,(Their number thrice a hundred-fold,)His prayer he made, his heads he told, With Aves many a one—He comes our feuds to reconcile,A sainted man from sainted isle ;We will his holy doom abide,The Abbot shall OUT strife decide. XXII. Scarcely this fair accord was oer,When through the wide revolving door The black-stoled brethren wind;Twelve sandalld monks, who relics bore,With many a torch-bearer before, And many a cross sunk each fierce uplifted handAnd dagger bright and Hashing brand Droppd swiftly at the sighl : 90 THE LORD OF THE ISLES. They vanishd from the Churchmans eye,As shooting stars, that glance and die,Dart from the vault of XXIIT. The Abbot on the threshold stood,And in his hand the holy rood ;Back on his shoulders flowd his hood,The torchs srlariner ray THE LORD OF THE ISLES. Showd, in its red and flashing light,\\\< witherd cheek and amice white,His blue eye glistening cold and bright, His tresses scant and gray. Fair Lords, he said, Our Ladys peace be with you from above, And Benedicite!——But what means this? no peace is here !Do dirks unsheathed suit bridal cheer ? Or are these naked brandsA seemly show for Churchmans sight,When he comes summond to uniteBetrothed hearts and hands? XXIV. Then, cloaking hate with fiery Lorn first answerd the appeal;— Thou comest, 0 holy Man,True sons of blessed church to greet,But little deeming here to meet A wretch, beneath the banOf Pope and Church, for murder doneEven on the sacred altar-stone !—Well mayst thou wonder we should knowSuch miscreant here, nor lay him low,Or dream of greeting, peace, or truce,With
Size: 1620px × 1543px
Photo credit: © The Reading Room / Alamy / Afripics
License: Licensed
Model Released: No
Keywords: ., bookauthorturnerjmwjosephmallor, bookcentury1800, bookdecade1850
