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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=529880" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Legend of St. Laura</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Saint Laura, in her sleep of death,<br>Preserves beneath the tomb<br>---'Tis willed where what is willed must be---<br>In incorruptibility<br>Her beauty and her bloom.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">So pure her maiden life had been,<br>So free from earthly stain,<br>'Twas fixed in fate by Heaven's own Queen,<br>That till the earth's last closing scene<br>She should unchanged remain.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Within a deep sarcophagus<br>Of alabaster sheen,<br>With sculptured lid of roses white,<br>She slumbered in unbroken night<br>By mortal eyes unseen.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Above her marble couch was reared<br>A monumental shrine,<br>Where cloistered sisters, gathering round,<br>Made night and morn the aisle resound<br>With choristry divine.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The abbess died: and in her pride<br>Her parting mandate said,<br>They should her final rest provide,<br>The alabaster couch beside,<br>Where slept the sainted dead.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The abbess came of princely race:<br>The nuns might not gainsay:<br>And sadly passed the timid band,<br>To execute the high command<br>They dared not disobey.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The monument was opened then:<br>It gave to general sight<br>The alabaster couch alone:<br>But all its lucid substance shone<br>With præ.ternatural light.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">They laid the corpse within the shrine:<br>They closed its doors again:<br>But nameless terror seemed to fall,<br>Throughout the live-long night, on all<br>Who formed the funeral train.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Lo! on the morrow morn, still closed<br>The monument was found:<br>But in its robes funereal drest,<br>The corpse they had consigned to rest<br>Lay on the stony ground.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">So pure her maiden life had been,<br>So free from earthly stain,<br>'Twas fixed in fate by Heaven's own Queen,<br>That till the earth's last closing scene<br>She should unchanged remain.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Fear and amazement seized on all:<br>They salled on Mary's aid:<br>And in the tomb, unclosed again,<br>With choral hymn and funeral train,<br>The corpse again was laid.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">So was it found when morning beamed:<br>In solemn suppliant strain,<br>The nuns implored all saints in heaven,<br>That rest might to the corpse be given,<br>Which they entombed again.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">On the third night a watch was kept<br>By many a friar and nun:<br>Trembling, all knelt in fervebt parayer,<br>Till on the dreary midnight air<br>Rolled the deep bell-toll, &quot;One!&quot;</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The saint within the opening tomb<br>Like marble statue stood:<br>All fell to earth in deep dismay:<br>And through their ranks she passed away,<br>In calm unchanging mood.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">No answering sound her footsteps raised<br>Along the stony floor:<br>Silent as death, severe as fate,<br>She glided through the chapel gate,<br>And none beheld her more.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The alabaster couch was gone:<br>The tomb was void and bare:<br>For the last time, with hasty rite,<br>Even 'mid the terror of the night,<br>They laid the abbess there.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'Tis said, the abbess rests not well<br>In that sepulchral pile:<br>But yearly, when the night comes round,<br>And dies of &quot;One&quot; the bell's deep sound<br>She flits along the aisle.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">But whither passed the virgin saint,<br>To slumber far away,<br>Destined by Mary to endure,<br>Unfettered in her semblance pure,<br>Until the judgement day?</div><div style="margin:10px 0">None knew, and none may ever know:<br>Angels the secret keep:<br>Impenetrable ramparts bound,<br>Eternal silence dwells around,<br>The chamber of her sleep.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Thomas+Love+Peacock">Thomas Love Peacock</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=529880" data-title="The Legend of St. Laura de Thomas Love Peacock" data-description="Saint Laura, in her sleep of death,
Preserves beneath the tomb
---'Tis willed where what is willed must be---
In incorruptibility
Her beauty and her bloom.

So pure her maiden life had been,
So free from earthly stain,
'Twas fixed in fate by Heave..."></div>
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