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The blood gushed out amain! For every clot a burning spot
Was scorching in my brain !
“My head was like an ardent coal,
My heart as solid ice;
Was at the Devil's price.
the dead Had never groaned but twice !
“And now, from forth the frowning sky,
From the heaven's topmost height, I heard a voice, the awful voice
Of the blood-avenging sprite: • Thou guilty man! take up thy dead,
And hide it from my sight!'
“And I took the dreary body up,
And cast it in a stream,
The depth was so extreme:
Is nothing but a dream!
Down went the corse with a hollow plunge,
And vanished in the pool;
And washed my forehead cool,
That evening in the school.
“O Heaven! to think of their white souls,
And mine so black and grim!
Nor join in evening hymn;
Mid holy cherubim !
' And peace went with them, one and all,
And each calm pillow spread;
That lighted me to bed,
With fingers bloody red !
“All night I lay in agony,
In anguish dark and deep;
But stared aghast at Sleep;
The keys of hell to keep !
“ All night I lay in agony,
From weary chime to chime; With one besetting horrid hint,
That racked me all the time, A mighty yearning, like the first
Fierce impulse unto crime,
“One stern tyrannic thought, that made
All other thoughts its slave!
Stronger and stronger every pulse
Did that temptation crave, Still urging me to go and see
The dead man in his grave!
“ Heavily I rose up, as soon
As light was in the sky,
With a wild misgiving eye;
For the faithless stream was dry.
“Merrily rose the lark, and shook
The dew-drop from its wing;
I never heard it sing;
Under the horrid thing. “ With breathless speed, like a soul in chase,
I took him up and ran ;
Before the day began,
I hid the murdered man!
“ And all that day I read in school,
But my thought was otherwhere;
In secret I was there,
And still the corse was bare !
" Then down I cast me on my face,
And first began to weep,
That earth refused to keep,
Ten thousand fathoms deep.
So wills the fierce avenging sprite,
Till blood for blood atones!
And trodden down with stones,
The world shall see his bones!
“O God! that horrid, horrid dream
Besets me now awake!
The human life I take;
Like Cranmer's at the stake.
“ And still no peace for the restless clay
Will wave or mould allow;
It stands before me now!”
Huge drops upon his brow.
That very night, while gentle sleep
The urchin's eyelids kissed,
Through the cold and heavy mist;
RESTORATION OF MALMESBURY ABBEY.
MONASTIC and time-consecrated fane!
Almost august as in thy early day,