SCENE I.
The inside of a convent chapel, of old Gothic architecture,
almost dark: two torches only are seen at
a distance, burning over a newly covered
grave.
Lightning is seen flashing through the windows, and
thunder heard, with the sound of wind beating upon
the building. Enter two monks.
1st monk.
The storm increases: hark how dismally
It howls along the cloisters. How goes time?
2nd monk.
It is the hour: I hear them near at hand:
And when the solemn requiem has been sung
For the departed sister, we'll retire.
Yet, should this tempest still more violent grow,
We'll beg a friendly shelter till the morn.
1st monk.
See, the procession enters: let us join.
[
The organ strikes up a solemn prelude. Enter
a procession of nuns, with the abbess, bearing
torches. After compassing the grave twice,
and remaining there some time, the organ plays
a grand dirge, while they stand round the grave.
SONG BY THE NUNS.
Departed soul, whose poor remains
This hallow'd lowly grave contains;
Whose passing storm of life is o'er,
Whose pains and sorrows are no more;
Bless'd be thou with the bless'd above,
Where all is joy, and purity, and love!
Let Him, in might and mercy dread,
Lord of the living and the dead;
In whom the stars of heav'n rejoice,
And the ocean lifts its voice;
Thy spirit, purified, to glory raise,
To sing witn holy saints his everlasting praise!
Departed soul, who in this earthly scene
Hast our lowly sister been,
Swift be thy way to where the blessed dwell!
Until we meet thee there, farewell! farewell!
Enter a young pensioner, with a wild terrified look,
her hair and dress all scattered, and rushes forward
amongst them.
Abb.
Why com'st thou here, with such disorder'd looks,
To break upon our sad solemnity?
Pen.
Oh! I did hear through the receding blast,
Such horrid cries! they made my blood run chill.
Abb.
'Tis but the varied voices of the storm,
Which many times will sound like distant screams:
It has deceiv'd thee.
Pen.
O no, for twice it call'd, so loudly call'd,
With horrid strength, beyond the pitch of nature;
And murder! murder! was the dreadful cry.
A third time it return'd with feeble strength,
But o' the sudden ceas'd, as though the words
Were smother'd rudely in the grappled throat,
And all was still again, save the wild blast
Which at a distance growl'd.—
Oh! it will never from my mind depart!
That dreadful cry, all i' the instant still'd:
For then, so near, some horrid deed was done,
And none to rescue.
Abb.
Where didst thou hear it?
Pen.
In the higher cells,
As now a window, open'd by the storm,
I did attempt to close.
1st monk.
I wish our brother Bernard were arriv'd;
He is upon his way.
Abb.
Be not alarm'd; it still may be deception.
'Tis meet we finish our solemnity,
Nor show neglect unto the honour'd dead.
[
Gives a sign, and the organ plays again: just as it ceases, a loud knocking is heard without.
Abb.
Ha! who may this be? hush!
[
Knocking heard again.
2d monk.
It is the knock of one in furious haste.
Hush! hush! What footsteps come? Ha! brother Bernard.
Enter
Bernard
bearing a lantern.
1st monk.
See, what a look he wears of stiffen'd fear!
Where hast thou been, good brother?
Bern.
I've seen a horrid sight!
[
All gathering round him and speaking at once.
What hast thou seen?
Bern.
As on I hasten'd, bearing thus my light,
Across the path, not fifty paces off,
I saw a murder'd corse, stretch'd on his back,
Smear'd with new blood, as though but freshly slain.
Abb.
A man or woman was't?
Bern.
A man, a man!
Abb.
Didst thou examine if within its breast
There yet were lodg'd some small remains of life?
Was it quite dead?
Bern.
Nought in the grave is deader.
I look'd but once, yet life did never lodge
In any form so laid.
A chilly horror seiz'd me, and I fled.
1st monk.
And does the face seem all unknown to thee?
Bern.
The face! I would not on the face have look'd
For e'en a kingdom's wealth, for all the world!
O no! the bloody neck, the bloody neck!
[
Shaking his head and shuddering with horror. Loud knocking heard without.
Sist.
Good mercy! who comes next?
Bern.
Not far behind
I left our brother Thomas on the road;
But then he did repent him as he went,
And threatened to return.
2d monk.
See, here he comes.
Enter Brother
Thomas,
with a wild terrified look.
1st monk.
How wild he looks!
Bern.
(
going up to him eagerly).
What, hast thou seen it too?
Thom.
Yes, yes! it glared upon me as it pass'd.
Bern.
What glared upon thee?
[
All gathering round
Thomas,
and speaking at once.
O! what hast thou seen?
Thom.
As striving with the blast I onward came,
Turning my feeble lantern from the wind,
Its light upon a dreadful visage gleam'd,
Which paus'd and look'd upon me as it pass'd;
But such a look, such wildness of despair,
Such horror-strained features, never yet
Did earthly visage show. I shrank and shudder'd.
If a damn'd spirit may to earth return,
I've seen it.
Bern.
Was there any blood upon it?
Thom.
Nay, as it pass'd, I did not see its form;
Nought but the horrid face.
Bern.
It is the murderer.
1st monk.
What way went it?
Thom.
I durst not look till I had pass'd it far.
Then turning round, upon the rising bank,
I saw, between me and the paly sky,
A dusky form, tossing and agitated.
I stopp'd to mark it; but, in truth, I found
'Twas but a sapling bending to the wind,
And so I onward hied, and look'd no more.
1st monk.
But we must look to't; we must follow it:
Our duty so commands. (To 2d monk.)
Will you go, brother?
(
To
Bernard.)
And you, good Bernard?
Bern.
If I needs must go.
1st monk.
Come, we must all go.
Abb.
Heaven be with you, then!
[
Exeunt monks.
Pen.
Amen! amen! Good heav'n, be with us all!
O what a dreadful night!
Abb.
Daughters, retire; peace to the peaceful dead!
Our solemn ceremony now is finish'd.
[
Exeunt.
