III.
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he Abbess was of noble blood, 45But early took the veil and hood,Ere upon life she cast a look,Or knew the world that she forsook.Fair too she was, and kind had beenAs she was fair, but ne'er had seen 50For her a timid lover sigh,Nor knew the influence of her eye.Love, to her ear, was but a name,Combined with vanity and shame;Her hopes, her fears, her joys, were all 55Bounded within the cloister wall:The deadliest sin her mind could reachWas of monastic rule the breach;And her ambition's highest aimTo emulate Saint Hilda's fame. 60For this she gave her ample dower,To raise the convent's eastern tower;For this, with carving rare and quaint,She deck'd the chapel of the saint,And gave the relic-shrine of cost, 65With ivory and gems emboss'd.The poor her Convent's bounty blest,The pilgrim in its halls found rest.
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