These walls were built by men who did a deed <br />Of blood:--terrific conscience, day by day, <br />Followed, where'er their shadow seemed to stay, <br />And still in thought they saw their victim bleed, <br />Before God's altar shrieking: pangs succeed, <br />As dire upon their heart the deep sin lay, <br />No tears of agony could wash away: <br />Hence! to the land's remotest limit, speed! <br />These walls are raised in vain, as vainly flows <br />Contrition's tear: Earth, hide them, and thou, Sea, <br />Which round the lone isle, where their bones repose, <br />Dost sound for ever, their sad requiem be, <br />In fancy's ear, at pensive evening's close, <br />Still murmuring MISERERE, DOMINE.<br /><br />William Lisle Bowles<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/woodspring-abbey/