The tale then proceeds, after a lapse of years, of which no account is given, to the convent in which the Giaour has sought a refuge, but where he joins in none of the holy offices :' His floating robe around him folding, Slow sweeps he through the columned aisle; All that is known beside of the heart-stricken man is gathered from his broken confession, made before death released him from his woes: Father! thy days have passed in peace) 'Mid counted beads, and countless prayer; Thyself without a crime or care, Whose secret sins and sorrows rest My days, though few, have passed below. In much of joy, but more of woe; Yet still in hours of love or strife I've 'scaped the weariness of life: Now leagued with friends, now girt by foes, I loathed the languor of repose.. Now nothing left to love or hate, I loved her, friar! nay, adored But these are words that all can use- A stain its steel can never lose :, It warmed the heart of one abhorred : Nor midst my sins such act record; :/. Was wormwood to his Paynim spleen. |