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, Or who, in desperate doubt of grace, Or thought more grace to gain, By strange device were they brought there, XXV. And now that blind old Abbot rose, To speak the Chapter's doom,' It is well known, that the religious, who broke their vows of chastity, were subjected to the same penalty as the Roman vestals in a similar case. A small niche, sufficient to enclose their bodies, was made in the massive wall of the convent; a slender pittance of food and water was deposited in it, and the awful words, VADE IN PACE, were the signal for immuring the criminal. It is not likely that, in latter times, this punishment was often resorted to but, among the ruins of the Abbey of Coldingham, were some years ago discovered the remains of a female skeleton, which, from the shape of the niche, and position of the figure, seemed to be that of an immured nun. On those the wall was to enclose, Alive, within the tomb; But stopp'd, because that woeful Maid, 'Twixt each attempt all was so still, XXVI. At length, an effort sent apart The blood that curdled to her heart, And light came to her eye, A hectic and a flutter'd streak, By Autumn's stormy sky; And when her silence broke at length, Still as she spoke she gathered strength, And arm'd herself to bear. It was a fearful sight to see In form so soft and fair. XXVII. "I speak not to implore your grace, Nor do I speak your prayers to gain : To cleanse my sins, be penance vain, I listen'd to a traitor's tale, I left the convent and the veil; For three long years I bow'd my pride, But did my fate and wish agree, 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, Say ye, who preach Heaven shall decide Wilton found overthrow or death, Beneath a traitor's spear? How false the charge, how true he fell, This guilty packet best can tell. Then drew a packet from her breast, Paused, gather'd voice, and spoke the rest. XXIX. "Still was false Marmion's bridal staid; 6 To Whitby's convent fled the maid, The hated match to shun. Ho! shifts she thus?' King Henry cried, Sir Marmion, she shall be thy bride, If she were sworn a nun.' One way remain'd-the King's command Sent Marmion to the Scottish land: I linger'd here, and rescue plann'd For Clara and for me: This caitiff Monk, for gold, did swear, A saint in heaven should be. But ill the dastard kept his oath, Whose cowardice has undone us both. XXX. "And now my tongue the secret tells, And come he slow, or come he fast, XXXI. "Yet dread me, from my living tomb, |