Nought but imperfect murmurs slip From her convulsed and quivering lip; Twixt each attempt all was so still, You seem’d to hear a distant rill- ‘Twas ocean’s swells and falls; For though this vault of sin and fear Was to the sounding surge so near, A tempest there you scarce could hear, So massive were the walls.
XXVI.
At length, an effort sent apart The blood that curdled to her heart, And light came to her eye, And colour dawn’d upon her cheek, A hectic and a flutter’d streak, Like that left on the Cheviot peak, By Autumn’s stormy sky;And when her silence broke at length, Still as she spoke she gather’d strength, And arm’d herself to bear. It was a fearful sight to see Such high resolve and constancy, In form so soft and fair.
XXVII.
‘I speak not to implore your grace, Well know I, for one minute’s space Successless might I sue:Nor do I speak your prayers to gain;For if a death of lingering pain,To cleanse my sins, be penance vain, Vain are your masses too.-I listen’d to a traitor’s tale,I left the convent and the veil;For three long years I bow’d my pride,A horse-boy in his train to ride; And well my folly’s meed he gave,Who forfeited, to be his slave,All here, and all beyond the grave.-He saw young Clara’s face more fair,He knew her of broad lands the heir,Forgot his vows, his faith forswore,And Constance was beloved no more.- ‘Tis an old tale, and often told; But did my fate and wish agree, Ne’er had been read, in story old, Of maiden true betray’d for gold, That loved, or was avenged, like me!
XXVIII.
‘The King approved his favourite’s aim; In vain a rival barr’d his claim, Whose fate with Clare’s was plight, For he attaints that rival’s fame With treason’s charge-and on they came, In mortal lists to fight. Their oaths are said, Their prayers are pray’d, Their lances in the rest are laid, They meet in mortal shock; And hark! the throng, with thundering cry, Shout “Marmion, Marmion I to the sky, De Wilton to the block!”
