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The Monastery by Scott, Walter, Sir, 1771-1832
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A word from our supporters: File extension ADF | To express himself by signs, the common language of all nations, the cautious Sacristan first pointed to the river, then to his mule's crupper, and then made, as gracefully as he could, a sign to induce the fair solitary to mount behind him. She seemed to understand his meaning, for she rose up as if to accept his offer; and while the good monk, who, as we have hinted, was no great cavalier, laboured, with the pressure of the right leg and the use of the left rein, to place his mule with her side to the bank in such a position that the lady might mount with ease, she rose from the ground with rather portentous activity, and at one bound sate behind the monk upon the animal, much the firmer rider of the two. The mule by no means seemed to approve of this double burden; she bounded, bolted, and would soon have thrown Father Philip over her head, had not the maiden with a firm hand detained him in the saddle. At last the restive brute changed her humour; and, from refusing to budge off the spot, suddenly stretched her nose homeward, and dashed into the ford as fast as she could scamper. A new terror now invaded the monk's mind--the ford seemed unusually deep, the water eddied off in strong ripple from the counter of the mule, and began to rise upon her side. Philip lost his presence of mind,--which was at no time his most ready attribute, the mule yielded to the weight of the current, and as the rider was not attentive to keep her head turned up the river, she drifted downward, lost the ford and her footing at once, and began to swim with her head down the stream. And what was sufficiently strange, at the same moment, notwithstanding the extreme peril, the damsel began to sing, thereby increasing, if anything could increase, the bodily fear of the worthy Sacristan. I.Both current and ripple are dancing in light. We have roused the night raven, I heard him croak, As we plashed along beneath the oak That flings its broad branches so far and so wide, Their shadows are dancing in midst of the tide. "Who wakens my nestlings," the raven he said, "My beak shall ere morn in his blood be red. For a blue swoln corpse is a dainty meal. And I'll have my share with the pike and the eel." II.There's a golden gleam on the distant height; There's a silver shower on the alders dank. And the drooping willows that wave on the bank. I see the abbey, both turret and tower, It is all astir for the vesper hour; The monks for the chapel are leaving each cell. But Where's Father Philip, should toll the bell? III.Downward we drift through shadow and light, Under yon rock the eddies sleep, Calm and silent, dark and deep. The Kelpy has risen from the fathomless pool. He has lighted his candle of death and of dool. Look, Father, look, and you'll laugh to see How he gapes and glares with his eyes on thee. IV. |