English Narrative Poems

Narrative poetry, English; Readers -- Poetry
St. Agnes' Eve--Ah, bitter chill it was!
      The owl, for all his feathers, was a-cold;
      The hare limp'd trembling through the frozen grass,
      And silent was the flock in woolly fold:
      Numb were the Beadsman's[143] fingers, while he told             5
      His rosary, and while his frosted breath,
      Like pious incense from a censer old,
      Seem'd taking flight for heaven, without a death,
    Past the sweet Virgin's picture, while his prayer he saith.


    II

      His prayer he saith, this patient, holy man;                    10
      Then takes his lamp, and riseth from his knees
      And back returneth, meagre, barefoot, wan,
      Along the chapel aisle by slow degrees:
      The sculptured dead, on each side, seem to freeze,
      Emprison'd in black, purgatorial rails:                         15
      Knights, ladies, praying in dumb orat'ries,
      He passeth by; and his weak spirit fails
    To think how they may ache in icy hoods and mails.


    III

      Northward he turneth through a little door,
      And scarce three steps, ere Music's golden tongue               20
      Flatter'd to tears this aged man and poor;
      But no--already had his death-bell rung;
      The joys of all his life were said and sung:
      His was harsh penance on St. Agnes' Eve;
      Another way he went, and soon among                             25
      Rough ashes sat he for his soul's reprieve,
    And all night kept awake, for sinners' sake to grieve.


    IV

      That ancient Beadsman heard the prelude soft;
      And so it chanced, for many a door was wide,
      From hurry to and fro. Soon, up aloft,                          30
      The silver, snarling[144] trumpets 'gan to chide:
      The level chambers, ready with their pride,
      Were glowing to receive a thousand guests:
      The carved angels, ever eager-eyed,
      Stared, where upon their heads the cornice rests,               35
    With hair blown back, and wings put crosswise on their breasts.


    V

      At length burst in the argent revelry,
      With plume, tiara, and all rich array,
      Numerous as shadows haunting fairily
      The brain, new-stuff'd, [145]in youth, with triumphs gay        40
      Of old romance. These let us wish away,
      And turn, sole-thoughted, to one Lady there,
      Whose heart had brooded, all that wintry day,
      On love, and wing'd St. Agnes' saintly care,
    As she had heard old dames full many times declare.               45


    VI
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
English Narrative Poems

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