University of Virginia Library

X.

Long watched the Monk, where, on the aisle,
The Warrior trod in his dark weed;

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Ill might such stalk his rank beguile,
Or figure be for monk's received.
He watched him by Duke Humphrey's tomb,
Where, from the roof's light filagree,
Blazed tapers through the vaulted gloom,
While voices sung his obsequy.
He watched him through the eastern arch,
Where once St. Catherine's story shone;—
The Knight has turned on Mary's Porch,—
The monk is to his pallet gone.