By pity soothed, remorse lost half her fears,
And soften'd pride dropp'd penitential tears.
Then convent-walls and nunnery-spires arose,
In pleasant spots which monk or abbot chose;
When counts and barons saints devoted fed,
And, making cheap exchange, had pray'r for bread.
Now all is lost; the earth where abbeys stood
Is layman's land, the glebe, the stream, the wood;
150
His oxen low where monks retired to eat;