More meet it were to mark the day Of penitence and prayer divine, Sought Melrose' holy shrine. XXX. With naked foot, and sackcloth vest, And arms enfolded on his breast, Did every pilgrim go; The standers-by might hear uneath, Footstep, or voice, or high-drawn breath, Through all the lengthened row: No lordly look, no martial stride; Gone was their glory, sunk their pride, Forgotten their renown; Silent and slow, like ghosts, they glide And there they kneeled them down: Beneath the lettered stones were laid The ashes of their fathers dead; From many a garnished niche around, Stern saints, and tortured martyrs, frowned. XXXI. And slow up the dim aisle afar, With sable cowl and scapular, And snow-white stoles, in order due, The holy Fathers, two and two, In long procession came; Taper, and host, and book they bare, And holy banner, flourished fair With the Redeemer's name; Above the prostrate pilgrim band The mitred Abbot stretched his hand, And blessed them as they kneeled ; With holy cross he signed them all, And fortunate in field. Then mass was sung, and prayers were said, And solemn requiem for the dead; And bells tolled out their mighty peal, For the departed Spirit's weal; And ever in the office close The hymn of intercession rose, And far the echoing aisles prolong DIES IRE, DIES ILLA, SOLVET SÆCLUM IN FAVILLA ; While the pealing organ rung; Were it meet with sacred strain To close my lay, so light and vain, Thus the holy Fathers sung, HYMN FOR THE DEAD. That day of wrath, that dreadful day, When heaven and earth shall pass away, What power shall be the sinner's stay? How shall he meet that dreadful day? When, shrivelling like a parched scroll, The flaming heavens together roll; Swells the high trump that wakes the dead; When man to judgment wakes from clay, Be THOU the trembling sinner's stay, Though heaven and earth shall pass away! HUSHED is the harp-the Minstrel gone. And did he wander forth alone? Alone, in indigence and age, To linger out his pilgrimage? No :-close beneath proud Newark's tower, A simple hut; but there was seen There, sheltered wanderers, by the blaze, Oft heard the tale of other days; For much he loved to ope his door, And give the aid he begged before. Then would he sing achievements high, And circumstance of chivalry, Till the rapt traveller would stay, Forgetful of the closing day; And noble youths, the strain to hear, And Yarrow, as he rolled along, Bore burden to the Minstrel's song. |