XX.

At night, in secret, there they came, The Palmer and the holy dame. The moon among the clouds rose high, And all the city hum was by. Upon the street, where late before Did din of war and warriors roar, You might have heard a pebble fall, A beetle hum, a cricket sing, An owlet flap his boding wing On Giles’s steeple tall. The antique buildings, climbing high, Whose Gothic frontlets sought the sky, Were here wrapt deep in shade; There on their brows the moonbeam broke Through the faint wreaths of silvery smoke, And on the casements played. And other light was none to see, Save torches gliding far, Before some chieftain of degree, Who left the royal revelry To bowne him for the war. A solemn scene the Abbess chose; A solemn hour, her secret to disclose.