“My food was ashes in my mouth,
My very soul was seared with drouth,
I banished thought, the struggle vain
Brought back the thought again.
“The saints and angels held aloof,
My prayers fell back from chapel roof,
They had no lightness to ascend
Where earth and heaven blend.
“The stars did mock me with their peace,
The seasons brought me no release,
Despair and anguish like a sea
And pain were under me.
“And year by year more pains I gave,
Till life became a living grave,
Till, like the lost behind hell’s gate,
My soul was desolate.”
Outside, an owl did hoot and call,
But in the abbey silence all;
The Abbot’s voice had hollow sound,
As if from underground.
“Hush, boy, the fiend came yesternight.”
The Abbot smiled—a gruesome sight,
That smiling face in moonlight wan,
With eyes so woe-begone—
“The fiend came yesternight to ask
The utmost deed that life can task,
A soul by self-death given to win
Another’s soul from sin.”
So fearful was the story told,
The boy’s teeth chattered as with cold,
He saw no leaf-shapes on the floor,
He heard no bell ring four.
“To-night with head on chapel stone,
I prayed to Him who did atone,
Till blood-sweat ran, as down His face
It ran in garden-place.
“’Tis done, the earthly fight is o’er,
My soul is dark for evermore,
I am the fiend’s, hark! hear him call—
He holds a soul in thrall.