LXXVII.

A mighty minster, dim, and proud, and vast! Silence was round the sleepers whom its floor Shut in the grave; a shadow of the past, A memory of the sainted steps that wore Erewhile its gorgeous pavement, seem’d to brood Like mist upon the stately solitude; A halo of sad fame to mantle o’er Its white sepulchral forms of mail-clad men; And all was hush’d as night in some deep Alpine glen.