Priest, Dost Thou Fear the Fires of Thy Purgatory?

i said aloud so sudden and fiercely that the monk leapt to his feet with a startled cry from the drunken sleep into which he had fallen. A long roll, i muttered to myself, turning away from my empty plate. Horrible, immense and vast. Good lord, what shadows are these men who come and go like this. Swear by that great crucified form there shining in the taper light above thy throne. Swears by him to whom thou nightly offerest the hyssop incense of thy beastly excesses. And yet i only but wake hung and empty, unchanged, unmindful, careless.