And now they climb the footworn stair,
The chapel gates unclose,
Now each breathed low a fervent prayer,
And fear each bosom froze— _60
Now paused awhile the doubtful band
And viewed the solemn scene,—
Full dark the clustered columns stand,
The moon gleams pale between—
‘Say father, say, what cloisters’ gloom _65
Conceals the unquiet shade,
Within what dark unhallowed tomb,
The corse unblessed was laid.’
‘Through yonder drear aisle alone it walks,
And murmurs a mournful plaint, _70
Of thee! Black Canon, it wildly talks,
And call on thy patron saint—
The pilgrim this night with wondering eyes,
As he prayed at St. Edmond’s shrine,
From a black marble tomb hath seen it rise, _75
And under yon arch recline.’—
‘Oh! say upon that black marble tomb,
What memorial sad appears.’—
‘Undistinguished it lies in the chancel’s gloom,
No memorial sad it bears’— _80
The Canon his paternoster reads,
His rosary hung by his side,
Now swift to the chancel doors he leads,
And untouched they open wide,
Resistless, strange sounds his steps impel, _85
To approach to the black marble tomb,
‘Oh! enter, Black Canon,’ a whisper fell,
‘Oh! enter, thy hour is come.’
He paused, told his beads, and the threshold passed.
Oh! horror, the chancel doors close, _90
A loud yell was borne on the rising blast,
And a deep, dying groan arose.
The Monks in amazement shuddering stand,
They burst through the chancel’s gloom,
From St. Edmond’s shrine, lo! a skeleton’s hand, _95
Points to the black marble tomb.