"'Tis twice three years at summer tide Since first among our freres he came; And here it soothes him to abide 800 For some dark deed he will not name. But never at our Vesper prayer, Nor e'er before Confession chair Kneels he, nor recks he when arise Incense or anthem to the skies, But broods within his cell alone, His faith and race alike unknown. The sea from Paynim land he crost, And here ascended from the coast; Yet seems he not of Othman race, 810 But only Christian in his face: I'd judge him some stray renegade, Repentant of the change he made, Save that he shuns our holy shrine, Nor tastes the sacred bread and wine. Great largess to these walls he brought, And thus our Abbot's favour bought; But were I Prior, not a day Should brook such stranger's further stay, Or pent within our penance cell 820 Should doom him there for aye to dwell. Much in his visions mutters he Of maiden whelmed beneath the sea;[dv] Of sabres clashing, foemen flying, Wrongs avenged, and Moslem dying. On cliff he hath been known to stand, And rave as to some bloody hand Fresh severed from its parent limb, Invisible to all but him, Which beckons onward to his grave, 830 And lures to leap into the wave." * * * * * * * * * *