430 RIEVAULX ABBEY. 



Or when pale moon-shine cloth'd these towers in Iighf r 



And every sound by solemn night was hush'd, 



The lone enthusiast straying from his cell, 



ID fearful adoration knelt him down 



Before the " man of sorrows" on the cross ; 



While through the windows beam'd the placid moon, 



And smil'd upon the Gothic pride within ; 



As to his effigy the feeling monk 



In holy accents falter'd out his prayer. 



From yon dilapidated falling tower, 

 The consecrated bells, with son'rous sound, 

 Dave often warn'd the heaven-devoted train 

 To chauat the holy Virgin's matin praise; 

 Which from their voices round the altar peal'd, 

 Sublimely sounding through the spacious fane, 

 Along the pillar'd church and lofty choir ; 

 Where on the ground Mosaic beauty caught 

 The dazzl'd eye surveying these abodes ; 

 Reflecting back the window's dusky light, 

 Partly obstructed by the tinted glass, 

 Which bore devices suited to the times ; 

 Saints, shields, and flowers, all varying in their hue ; 

 With lineal arms of barons great in power, 

 Patrons and firm supporters of the church. 



Delightful vale ! I love thy silent scenes, 

 Thy winding river, and thy woody banks 

 Of stately trees ; where o'er the whisp'ring leaves 

 Appears the terrace ; there Burnice's art 

 Seems to have vied with the fair scenes around, 

 Yet art has fail'd, and bows to nature's work. 

 There in the centre of the pannelPd roof 

 Appears Aurora, goddess of the morn, 

 With splendid equipage and shining train ; 



