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Book, page 81 / 131 He abideth night and day. By the marriage bed of their lords, 'tis said, He flits on the bridal eve; And 'tis held as faith, to their bed of death, He comes--but not to grieve. "When an heir is born, he is heard to mourn, And when aught is to befall That ancient line, in the pale moonshine He walks from hall to hall. His form you may trace, but not his face, 'Tis shadow'd by his cowl; But his eyes may be seen from the folds between, And they seem of a parted soul. "But beware! beware of the Black Friar, He still retains his sway, For he is yet the church's heir, Whoever may be the lay. Amundeville is lord by day, But the monk is lord by night, Nor wine nor wassail could raise a vassal To question that friar's right. "Say nought to him as he walks the hall, And he'll say nought to you; He sweeps along in his dusky pall, As o'er the grass the dew. Then gramercy! for the Black Friar; Heaven sain him! fair or foul, And whatsoe'er may be his prayer Let ours be for his soul." Such is the story of the goblin friar, which, partly through old tradition, and partly through the influence of Lord Byron's rhymes, has become completely established in the Abbey, and threatens to hold possession so long as the old edifice shall endure. Various visitors have either fancied, or pretended to have seen him, and a cousin of Lord Byron, Miss Sally Parkins, is even said to have made a sketch of him from memory. As to the servants at the Abbey, they have become
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