RECITATIVE. OF Constance holy legends tell, The softest sister of the cell; None sent to Heav'n so sweet a cry, Or roll'd at mass so bright an eye. No wanton taint her bosom knew, Her hours in heavenly vision flew, Her knees were worn with midnight pray'rs, And thus she breath'd divinest airs: AIR. 'In hallow'd walks and awful cells, Secluded from the light and vain, The chaste-ey'd maid with Virtue dwells, And solitude and silence reign. 'The wanton's voice is heard not here; To Heav'n the sacred pile belongs; Each wall returns the whisper'd pray'r, And echoes but to holy songs.' RECITATIVE. Alas! that pamper'd monks should dare Intrude where sainted Vestals are! Ah, Francis, Francis! well I weet Those holy looks are all deceit. With shame the Muse prolongs her tale, The Priest was young, the Nun was frail; Devotion falter'd on her tongue, Love tun'd her voice, and thus she sung: AIR. 'Alas! how deluded was I To fancy delights as I did, With maidens at midnight to sigh, And love, the sweet passion, forbid! 'O Father! my follies forgive, And still to absolve me be nigh; Your lessons have taught me to live, Come teach me, O teach me! to die.' To her arms in a rapture he sprung, Her bosom, half naked, met his; Transported in silence she hung, And melted away at each kiss. 'Ah Father! (expiring, she cried) With rapture I yield up my breath!' 'Ah Daughter! (he fondly replied) The righteous find comfort in death.' | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...UNDER THE CEDARCROFT CHESTNUT by SIDNEY LANIER DOMESDAY BOOK: THE HOUSE THAT JACK BUILT by EDGAR LEE MASTERS NIGHT PIECE (2) by EDITH SITWELL NO EXEMPTION FOR TOURISTS by KAREN SWENSON |