"As thou play'st at the ball art thou playing with me?
When we know that her lover to battle is gone,
And the saints know above that she loveth but one
And will ne'er wed another?"

VII.

Then the boy wept aloud; 't was a fair sight yet sad
To see the tears run down the sweet blooms he had:
He stamped with his foot, said--"The saints know I lied
Because truth that is wicked is fittest to hide:
Must I utter it, mother?"

VIII.

In his vehement childhood he hurried within
And knelt at her feet as in prayer against sin,
But a child at a prayer never sobbeth as he--
"Oh! she sits with the nun of the brown rosary,
At nights in the ruin--

IX.

"The old convent ruin the ivy rots off,
Where the owl hoots by day and the toad is sun-proof,
Where no singing-birds build and the trees gaunt and grey
As in stormy sea-coasts appear blasted one way--
But is _this_ the wind's doing?

X.

"A nun in the east wall was buried alive
Who mocked at the priest when he called her to shrive,
And shrieked such a curse, as the stone took her breath,
The old abbess fell backwards and swooned unto death
With an Ave half-spoken.

XI.

"I tried once to pass it, myself and my hound,
Till, as fearing the lash, down he shivered to ground--
A brave hound, my mother! a brave hound, ye wot!
And the wolf thought the same with his fangs at her throat
In the pass of the Brocken.

XII.

"At dawn and at eve, mother, who sitteth there
With the brown rosary never used for a prayer?
Stoop low, mother, low! If we went there to see,
What an ugly great hole in that east wall must be
At dawn and at even!

XIII.

"Who meet there, my mother, at dawn and at even?
Who meet by that wall, never looking to heaven?
O sweetest my sister, what doeth with _thee_
The ghost of a nun with a brown rosary
And a face turned from heaven?

XIV.

"Saint Agnes o'erwatcheth my dreams and erewhile
I have felt through mine eyelids the warmth of her smile;
But last night, as a sadness like pity came o'er her,
She whispered--'Say _two_ prayers at dawn for Onora:
The Tempted is sinning.'"

XV.

"Onora, Onora!" they heard her not coming,
Not a step on the grass, not a voice through the gloamin