So they piled on more wood, and drew their seats nigher!
Three monks sat by a bogwood fire!
Loud wailed the wind through cloister and nave!
With penitent air by that bogwood fire
The first that spake it was Eustace grave,
And told, “He had been a soldier brave
In his youth, till a comrade he slew in ire;
Since then he forswore helmet and glaive,
And, leaving his home, had crossed the wave,
And taken the cross and cowl at Saint Finbar’s spire!”