CXVII.

The door flew wide, not swiftly,--but, as fly The sea-gulls, with a steady, sober flight-- And then swung back; nor close--but stood awry, Half letting in long shadows on the light, Which still in Juan's candlesticks burned high, For he had two, both tolerably bright, And in the doorway, darkening darkness, stood The sable Friar in his solemn hood.