Triumphant Hymen hail’d the blissful Hour,
And saw a white-rob’d social Train approach,
For whom the Pleasures dress’d the happy Bow’r,
And scatter’d Roses o’er the destin’d Couch.
Still other Blessings from this Change appear’d,
No injur’d Family did then behold
On loit’ring Monks its native Wealth confer’d,
Nor spacious Altars cover’d with its Gold.
Full many trod that crooked Path to Fame,
Yet from her Hand receiv’d no lasting Meed,
She from her Annals rends their fading Name,
And gives to Infamy the worthless Deed:
But Vengeance some pursued with dire Disgrace,
Pursued beyond the Circle of its Sphere,
Ev’n to the Cemetery’s dark Recess,
Nor spar’d them sleeping on the peaceful Bier:
Beside the spreading of that sombrous Yew,
Where yawns with hideous Chasm the vaulted Cave,
Presenting to the fix’d astonish’d View,
The Profanation of a rifled Grave:
The large-endowing Rufus lay inurn’d
With many a sculptur’d Image on his Shrine,
That smit with Sorrow o’er his Ashes mourn’d,
The Sister-Graces and the tuneful Nine.
Imprinted on Tradition’s storied Leaf
Is found (to this sepulchral Spot confin’d)
A Terror-breathing Tale that wins Belief,
And oft repeated by the neighb’ring Hind!
From where yon Mountain shades the dreary Plain,
Attracted by the Scent of human Blood,
A Troop of Wolves voracious scour’d amain,
And at this Charnel Vault requir’d their Food:
When, horrid to relate! they burst the Tomb,
And swift defending to the deepest Shade,
Up-tore the shrouded Tenant from its Womb,
And o’er the mangled Corse relentless prey’d.
The paly Stars with dim reluctant Light,
Like Tapers glimmer’d on their Orgies foul,
While gliding Spectres scream’d with wild Affright,
Re-echo’d loud by their tremendous Howl.