Rent by the lightning’s recent stroke.
Brian, the Hermit, by it stood,
Barefooted, in his frock and hood.[169]
His grisled beard and matted hair
Obscured a visage of despair;
His naked arms and legs, seamed o’er,
The scars of frantic penance bore.
That monk, of savage form and face,
The impending danger of his race
Had drawn[170] from deepest solitude,