LXXVII.
A mighty minster, dim, and proud, and vast!
Silence was round the sleepers whom its floor
Shut in the grave; a shadow of the past,
A memory of the sainted steps that wore
Erewhile its gorgeous pavement, seem’d to brood
Like mist upon the stately solitude;
A halo of sad fame to mantle o’er
Its white sepulchral forms of mail-clad men;
And all was hush’d as night in some deep Alpine glen.