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Till these in horror shrink away

From spectre more accursed than they!

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"How name ye yon lone Caloyer?
"His features I have scann'd before
"In mine own land: 'tis many a year,
"Since, dashing by the lonely shore,
"I saw him urge as fleet a steed
"As ever served a horseman's need.
"But once I saw that face, yet then
"It was so mark`d with inward pain,
"I could not pass it by again;

"It breathes the same dark spirit now,

"As death were stamped upon his brow." "'Tis twice three years at summer tide

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"Since first among our freres he came;

"And here it soothes him to abide

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"For some dark deed he will not name.

"But never at our vesper prayer,

"Nor e'er before confession chair

"Kneels he, nor recks he when arise

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"Incense or anthem to the skies,
"But broods within his cell alone,
"His faith and race alike unknown.
"The sea from Paynim land he crost,
"And here ascended from the coast;
"Yet seems he not of Othman race,
"But only Christian in his face:

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"I'd judge him some stray renegade, "Repentant of the change he made, "Save that he shuns our holy shrine,

"Nor tastes the sacred bread and wine. "Great largess to these walls he brought,

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“And thus our abbot's favour bought;

"But were I Prior, not a day

"Should brook such stranger's further stay, "Or pent within our penance cell

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“Should doom him there for aye to dwell.

"Much in his visions mutters he

"Of maiden 'whelm'd beneath the sea;

"Of sabres clashing, foemen flying,
"Wrongs avenged, and Moslem dying.

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"On cliff he hath been known to stand,
"And rave as to some bloody hand
"Fresh sever'd from its parent limb,
"Invisible to all but him,

"Which beckons onward to his grave, "And lures to leap into the wave."

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Dark and unearthly is the scowl
That glares beneath his dusky cowl:
The flash of that dilating eye
Reveals too much of times gone by;
Though varying, indistinct its hue,
Oft will his glance the gazer rue,

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For in it lurks that nameless spell
Which speaks, itself unspeakable,
A spirit yet unquell'd and high,
That claims and keeps ascendancy;

And like the bird whose pinions quake,
But cannot fly the gazing snake,

Will others quail beneath his look,

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Nor 'scape the glance they scarce can brook. 845 From him the half-affrighted Friar

When met alone would fain retire,

As if that eye and bitter smile

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Well were it so-such ghastly mirth
From joyaunce ne'er derived its birth.
But sadder still it were to trace

What once were feelings in that face:
Time hath not yet the features fix'd,
But brighter traits with evil mix'd;
And there are hues not always faded,
Which speak a mind not all degraded

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Even by the crimes through which it waded: 865

The common crowd but see the gloom
Of wayward deeds, and fitting doom;
The close observer can espy

A noble soul, and lineage high:

Alas! though both bestow'd in vain,

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Which Grief could change, and Guilt could stain,

It was no vulgar tenement

To which such lofty gifts were lent,
And still with little less than dread
On such the sight is riveted.
The roofless cot, decay'd and rent,
Will scarce delay the passer by;
The tower by war or tempest bent,
While yet may frown one battlement,

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Demands and daunts the stranger's eye;

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Each ivied arch, and pillar lone,

Pleads haughtily for glories gone!

"His floating robe around him folding,

"Slow sweeps he through the column'd aisle ; "With dread beheld, with gloom beholding

"The rites that sanctify the pile.

"But when the anthem shakes the choir, "And kneel the monks, his steps retire;

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By yonder lone and wavering torch "His aspect glares within the porch; "There will he pause till all is done"And hear the prayer, but utter none.

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"See-by the half-illumined wall
"His hood fly back, his dark hair fall,
"That pale brow wildly wreathing round,
"As if the Gorgon there had bound
"The sablest of the serpent-braid

"That o'er her fearful forehead stray'd:

"For he declines the convent oath,

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"And leaves those locks unhallow'd growth, 900 "But wears our garb in all beside;

"And, not from piety but pride,

"Gives wealth to walls that never heard

"Of his one holy vow nor word. "Lo!-mark ye, as the harmony "Peals louder praises to the sky, "That livid cheek, that stony air

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"Of mix'd defiance and despair!

"Saint Francis, keep him from the shrine!

"Else may we dread the wrath divine

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"Made manifest by awful sign.

"If ever evil angel bore

"The form of mortal, such he wore:

"By all my hope of sins forgiven,

"Such looks are not of earth nor heaven!"

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To love the softest hearts are prone,

But such can ne'er be all his own;
Too timid in his woes to share,
Too meek to meet, or brave despair;

And sterner hearts alone may feel

920

The wound that time can never heal.

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