Through the thin air? or hear we litanies
That, sung by monks at even-song, arise
And heavenward, full of holy rapture, swell?
No; but within the walls of yonder cell,
Where, near his death, God’s faithful servant lies,
Led by his brother’s soul, an angel throng
Welcomes St. Chad, whose prayerful life is o’er.
His feet shall tread the Mercian vales no more.
His work is done. Hark! fainter sounds their song,
While his glad spirit leaves its frame outworn,