Therein upon a pallet bed,
With bars of moonlight on his head,
While winds through ivied mullions creep,
A fair-haired boy did sleep.
Outside an owl did hoot and call
And drown the Abbot’s light foot-fall,
But rustle of those garments cere
In dreams the boy did hear.
“Hush, boy, ’tis I,” the Abbot said,
“Thy pure soul to the rescued dead
Shall bear my message; life is past,
Hell’s meshes hold me fast.
“Was thy sleep sweet? my sleep is o’er,
One speaks to thee who never more
Shall look on man (God send us grace),
Nor ever see God’s face.”
The boy through fear sat bolt upright
In tongueless terror, for moonlight
Smote slanting on the face and eye,
Which worked convulsively.
“One burden, boy, a weight of years,
Full to the brim of hopeless tears,
Hath crushed me, bearing round my brain
The double brand of Cain.
“Thy life and hopes are all before,
And mine are passed for evermore;
My secret in the years to come
Remember, but be dumb.
“O God, my heart beats loud within,
I slew my brother in mortal sin,
I stabbed him twice, not knowing, to free
A maiden’s chastity.”
The Abbot stood erect and tall,
His shadow fell along the wall,—
God save him, as if seeking grace,
He hid his cowlèd face.
“A black snake slipt across my feet,
Above bare boughs did part and meet,
There was a motion in the air
And eyes watched everywhere.