IV.

But to return:-the Abbot of this place
Was very holy, as such men should be,
Yet sometimes, when he saw a pretty face,
He felt as always feel the laity;

And though he vehemently prayed for grace
To curb such grievous impropriety,

He could not (though he prayed in ghostly fashion)
Quench altogether the disturbing passion.

V.

This gnawed our Abbot to the very bone,

Well knowing it would bring down heaps of

scandal

If his peculiarity were known,—

For it would give the godless ones a handle; And withered spinsters, too, would sigh and groan, Swearing the holy offices were manned ill:

He therefore, feeling for the Church's glory,
Was sly in all his dealings amatory.

VI.

Love rears a throne in proud hearts in the
He builds and consecrates an altar, where
His holy worship ever shall endure!

pure

In sensual souls he forms, with wanton care,

A bower where syren beauties do allure,

And flowers fling out their fragrance to the air; In sordid hearts he moulds a golden calf, And builds in vain ones what makes all men laugh.

VII.

This self-denying Abbot had a neighbour,

A Franklin named Ferando, dull and wealthy, Who'd gained the best part of his cash by labour,

And had been, as all working men are, healthy. He loved to see girls dance to pipe and tabor, And often laughed outright to watch the stealthy

And merry glances of some canny vixen,

Who'd capture any man she chose to fix on.

VIII.

Ferando had a wife of wondrous beauty,

Who went to our good Abbot for confession,
Which is, of course, a pious woman's duty,-
Alas! that it should lead them to transgression!

But I, though sorry, must admit that few tie
Their faith to ONE; for every new impression
Wipes out all earlier traces that remain,
"Wax to receive,”- wax also "to retain !"

IX.

Fair Gertrude's dress was quite correct in fashion,— That is to say, she wore it very low,

Which awfully stirred up the Abbot's passion:

'Tis

wrong that ladies dress, or undress, so! But I myself have seen some maidens rash on

That point, who really made my cheeks to glow; For showing all their charms so very nude,

Is half an invitation to be rude.

X.

Our Abbot felt the witchery of this

Sweet woman telling all her sins to him: She'd mourn the coldness of her husband's kiss, While he would tell her of the Cherubim,

The wondrous rapture of celestial bliss!

At last, his longing eyesight growing dim Beneath the brightness of her beauty's splendour, From the sublime would tumble to the tender.

XI.

In time his passion swallowed every thought,He had, in fact, no other meditation;

Daylight and darkness the same vision brought, As overseers deal out the changeless ration:

Or as a bee, in new-made honey caught,

Dies overwhelmed by thorough saturation. Thus our good Abbot felt the Franklin's wife At once the joy and torment of his life.

XII.

The wife and Bennet (so the monk was called)
Would often in the Abbey's garden stray.

This pleasant garden was full lofty walled,
And spreading trees were growing every way,
While jessamines and honeysuckles crawled
O'er buttresses fast creeping to decay;

And here and there, above one's drowsy head,
A mighty vine its leafy shadow spread.

XIII.

By heavens! it must be a pleasant thing
To live and die within a garden land,-
To see the bursting herbage in the Spring,

And watch as day by day the buds expand;
To hear the sweet birds in the morning sing

Those songs which the pure heart can understand;

To sit at noon beneath the leafy tree,

Whose rustling makes a music like the sea.