But most to Bolton's sacred Pile, On favouring nights, she loved to go; There ranged through cloister, court, and aisle, Attended by the soft-paced Doe; Nor feared she in the still moonshine[202] 265 To look upon Saint Mary's shrine;[VV] Nor on the lonely turf that showed Where Francis slept in his last abode. For that she came; there oft she sate Forlorn, but not disconsolate:[203] 270 And, when she from the abyss returned Of thought, she neither shrunk nor mourned; Was happy that she lived to greet Her mute Companion as it lay In love and pity at her feet; 275 How happy in its[204] turn to meet The[205] recognition! the mild glance Beamed from that gracious countenance; Communication, like the ray Of a new morning, to the nature 280 And prospects of the inferior Creature!
A mortal Song we sing,[206] by dower Encouraged of celestial power; Power which the viewless Spirit shed By whom we were first visited; 285 Whose voice we heard, whose hand and wings Swept like a breeze the conscious strings, When, left in solitude, erewhile We stood before this ruined Pile, And, quitting unsubstantial dreams, 290 Sang in this Presence kindred themes; Distress and desolation spread Through human hearts, and pleasure dead,-- Dead--but to live again on earth, A second and yet nobler birth; 295 Dire overthrow, and yet how high The re-ascent in sanctity! From fair to fairer; day by day A more divine and loftier way! Even such this blessèd Pilgrim trod, 300 By sorrow lifted towards her God; Uplifted to the purest sky Of undisturbed mortality. Her own thoughts loved she; and could bend A dear look to her lowly Friend; 305 There stopped; her thirst was satisfied With what this innocent spring supplied: Her sanction inwardly she bore, And stood apart from human cares: But to the world returned no more, 310 Although with no unwilling mind Help did she give at need, and joined The Wharfdale peasants in their prayers. At length, thus faintly, faintly tied To earth, she was set free, and died. 315 Thy soul, exalted Emily, Maid of the blasted family, Rose to the God from whom it came! --In Rylstone Church her mortal frame Was buried by her Mother's side. 320
Most glorious sunset! and a ray Survives--the twilight of this day-- In that fair Creature whom the fields Support, and whom the forest shields; Who, having filled a holy place, 325 Partakes, in her degree, Heaven's grace; And bears a memory and a mind Raised far above the law of kind;[WW] Haunting the spots with lonely cheer Which her dear Mistress once held dear: 330 Loves most what Emily loved most-- The enclosure of this church-yard ground; Here wanders like a gliding ghost, And every sabbath here is found; Comes with the people when the bells 335 Are heard among the moorland dells, Finds entrance through yon arch, where way Lies open on the sabbath-day; Here walks amid the mournful waste Of prostrate altars, shrines defaced, 340 And floors encumbered with rich show Of fret-work imagery laid low; Paces softly, or makes halt, By fractured cell, or tomb, or vault; By plate of monumental brass 345 Dim-gleaming among weeds and grass, And sculptured Forms of Warriors brave: But chiefly by that single grave, That one sequestered hillock green, The pensive visitant is seen. 350 There doth the gentle Creature lie With those adversities unmoved; Calm spectacle, by earth and sky In their benignity approved! And aye, methinks, this hoary Pile, 355 Subdued by outrage and decay, Looks down upon her with a smile, A gracious smile, that seems to say-- "Thou, thou art not a Child of Time, But Daughter of the Eternal Prime!" 360