One, whose brute-feeling ne’er aspires Beyond his own more brute desires. Such tools the Tempter ever needs, To do the savagest of deeds;For them no vision’d terrors daunt, Their nights no fancied spectres haunt, One fear with them, of all most base, The fear of death,-alone finds place.This wretch was clad in frock and cowl, And ‘shamed not loud to moan and howl, His body on the floor to dash, And crouch, like hound beneath the lash;While his mute partner, standing near, Waited her doom without a tear.
XXIII.
Yet well the luckless wretch might shriek, Well might her paleness terror speak! For there were seen in that dark wall, Two niches, narrow, deep, and tall;-Who enters at such grisly door, Shall ne’er, I ween, find exit more. In each a slender meal was laid, Of roots, of water, and of bread:By each, in Benedictine dress, Two haggard monks stood motionless; Who, holding high a blazing torch, Show’d the grim entrance of the porch:Reflecting back the smoky beam, The dark-red walls and arches gleam. Hewn stones and cement were display’d, And building tools in order laid.
XXIV.
These executioners were chose, As men who were with mankind foes, And with despite and envy fired, Into the cloister had retired; Or who, in desperate doubt of grace, Strove, by deep penance, to efface Of some foul crime the stain; For, as the vassals of her will, Such men the Church selected still, As either joy’d in doing ill, Or thought more grace to gain,If, in her cause, they wrestled down Feelings their nature strove to own. By strange device were they brought there, They knew not how, and knew not where.
XXV.
And now that blind old Abbot rose, To speak the Chapter’s doom, On those the wall was to enclose, Alive, within the tomb;But stopp’d, because that woful Maid, Gathering her powers, to speak essay’d. Twice she essay’d, and twice in vain; Her accents might no utterance gain;
