The pointed angles of each tower; Yet still entire the Abbey stood,  Like veteran, worn, but unsubdued.

XI.

Soon as they near’d his turrets strong,  The maidens raised Saint Hilda’s song,  And with the sea-wave and the wind,  Their voices, sweetly shrill, combined,    And made harmonious close;  Then, answering from the sandy shore,  Half-drown’d amid the breakers’ roar,     According chorus rose: Down to the haven of the Isle,  The monks and nuns in order file,    From Cuthbert’s cloisters grim;  Banner, and cross, and relics there,  To meet Saint Hilda’s maids, they bare;  And, as they caught the sounds on air,    They echoed back the hymn. The islanders, in joyous mood,  Rush’d emulously through the flood,    To hale the bark to land;  Conspicuous by her veil and hood,  Signing the cross, the Abbess stood,    And bless’d them with her hand.

XII.

Suppose we now the welcome said,  Suppose the Convent banquet made:    All through the holy dome,  Through cloister, aisle, and gallery,  Wherever vestal maid might pry,  No risk to meet unhallow’d eye,      The stranger sisters roam: Till fell the evening damp with dew,  And the sharp sea-breeze coldly blew,  For there, even summer night is chill.  Then, having stray’d and gazed their fill,    They closed around the fire;  And all, in turn, essay’d to paint  The rival merits of their saint,    A theme that ne’er can tire  A holy maid; for, be it known,  That their saint’s honour is their own.

XIII.

Then Whitby’s nuns exulting told,  How to their house three Barons bold    Must menial service do;  While horns blow out a note of shame,  And monks cry ‘Fye upon your name!  In wrath, for loss of silvan game,    Saint Hilda’s priest ye slew.’- ‘This, on Ascension-day, each year,  While labouring on our harbour-pier,  Must Herbert, Bruce, and Percy hear.’-  They told how in their convent-cell  A Saxon princess once did dwell,    The lovely Edelfled;  And how, of thousand snakes, each one  Was changed into a coil of stone,    When holy Hilda pray’d; Themselves, within their holy bound,  Their stony folds had often found.  They told, how sea-fowls’ pinions fail, 
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