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Whose image on the glass was dyed;
And trampled the Apostate's pride.
They sate them down on a marble stone,
A Scottish monarch slept below;
"I was not always a man of woe;
"In these far climes, it was my lot . To meet the wonderous Michael Scott;
A wizard of such dreaded fame,
The bells would ring in Notre Dame!
And bridled the Tweed with a curb of stone:
A treble penance must be done.
"When Michael lay on his dying bed,
His conscience was awakened;
He bethought him of his sinful deed,
And he gave me a sign to come with speed:
I was in Spain when the morning rose,
But I stood by his bed ere evening close.
The words may not again be said,
"I swore to bury his Mighty Book,
That never mortal might therein look j
And never to tell where it was hid,
Save at his chief of Branksome's need;
And when that need was past and o'er,
Again the volume to restore.
I buried him on St Michael's night,
When the bell tolled one, and the moon was bright;
And I dug his chamber among the dead,
When the floor of the chancel was stained red,
That his patron's cross might over him wave,
And scare the fiends from the Wizard's grave.
"It was a night of woe and dread,
When Michael in the tomb I laid!
Strange sounds along the chancel past,
The banners waved without a blast"—
—Still spoke the Monk, when the bell tolled one !—
I tell you, that a braver man
Than William of Deloraine, good at need,
Against a foe ne'er spurred a steed;
Yet somewhat was he chilled with dread.
And his hair did bristle upon his head.
"Lo, Warrior! now, the Cross of Red
Slow moved the Monk to the broad flag-stone,
Which the bloody Cross was traced upon:
He pointed to a secret nook;
An iron bar the Warrior took;
And the Monk made a sign, with his withered hand,
The grave's huge portal to expand.
With beating heart to the task he went; .
His sinewy frame o'er the grave-stone bent;
With bar of iron heaved amain,
Till the toil-drops fell from his brows, like rain.
It was by dint of passing strength,
That he moved the massy stone at length
I would you had been there, to see
How the light broke forth so gloriously,
Streamed upward to the chancel roof,
And through the galleries far aloof1