O God! such piteous groans!
1st Nun. Yes, since the ev'ning sun it hath been so.
The voice of mis'ry oft hath reach'd mine ear,
E'en in the cell above.
2d Nun.How is it thus?
Methought he brav'd it with a manly spirit,
And led, with shackl'd hands, his sister forth,
Like one resolv'd to bear misfortune boldly.
1st Nun. Yes, with heroick courage, for a while
He seem'd inspir'd; but, soon depress'd again,
Remorse and dark despair o'erwhelm'd his soul,
And so he hath remain'd.
Enter Father Bernard, advancing from the further end of the gallery, bearing a crucifix.
1st Nun. How goes it, father, with your penitent?
We've heard his heavy groans.
Bern. Retire, my daughters; many a bed of death,
With all its pangs and horrour I have seen,
But never ought like this.
2d Nun. He's dying, then?
Bern.Yes, death is dealing with him.
From violent agitation of the mind,
Some stream of life within his breast has burst;
For many times, within a little space,
The ruddy-tide has rush'd into his mouth.
God, grant his pains be short!
