Ecclesiastical Sonnets Read Online

The potent call

Doubtless shall cheat full oft the heart's desires;

Yet, while the rugged Age on pliant knee

Vows to rapt Fancy humble fealty,

A gentler life spreads round the holy spires;

Where'er they rise, the sylvan waste retires,

And aëry harvests crown the fertile lea.

IV

Deplorable his lot who tills the ground,

His whole life long tills it, with heartless toil

Of villain-service, passing with the soil

To each new Master, like a steer or hound,

Or like a rooted tree, or stone earth-bound;

But mark how gladly, through their own domains,

The Monks relax or break these iron chains;

While Mercy, uttering, through their voice, a sound

Echoed in Heaven, cries out, »Ye Chiefs, abate

These legalized oppressions! Man – whose name

And nature God disdained not; Man – whose soul

Christ died for – cannot forfeit his high claim

To live and move exempt from all controul

Which fellow-feeling doth not mitigate!«

V

Monks and Schoolmen

Record we too, with just and faithful pen,

That many hooded Cenobites there are,

Who in their private cells have yet a care

Of public quiet; unambitious Men,

Counsellors for the world, of piercing ken:

Whose fervent exhortations from afar

Move Princes to their duty, peace or war;

And oft-times in the most forbidding den

Of solitude, with love of science strong,

How patiently the yoke of thought they bear!

How subtly glide its finest threads along!

Spirits that crowd the intellectual sphere

With mazy boundaries, as the astronomer

With orb and cycle girds the starry throng.

VI

Other Benefits

And, not in vain embodied to the sight,

Religion finds even in the stern retreat

Of feudal sway her own appropriate seat;

From the collegiate pomps on Windsor's height

Down to the humbler altar, which the Knight

And his Retainers of the embattled hall

Seek in domestic oratory small,

For prayer in stillness, or the chanted rite;

Then chiefly dear, when foes are planted round,

Who teach the intrepid guardians of the place –

Hourly exposed to death, with famine worn,

And suffering under many a perilous wound –

How sad would be their durance, if forlorn

Of offices dispensing heavenly grace!

VII

Continued

And what melodious sounds at times prevail!

And, ever and anon, how bright a gleam

Pours on the surface of the turbid Stream!

What heartfelt fragrance mingles with the gale

That swells the bosom of our passing sail!

For where, but on this River's margin, blow

Those flowers of chivalry, to bind the brow

Of hardihood with wreaths that shall not fail? –

Fair Court of Edward! wonder of the world!

I see a matchless blazonry unfurled

Of wisdom, magnanimity, and love;

And meekness tempering honourable pride;

The lamb is couching by the lion's side,

And near the flame-eyed eagle sits the dove.

VIII

Crusaders

Furl we the sails, and pass with tardy oars

Through these bright regions, casting many a glance

Upon the dream-like issues – the romance

Of many-coloured life that Fortune pours

Round the Crusaders, till on distant shores

Their labours end; or they return to lie,

The vow performed, in cross-legged effigy,

Devoutly stretched upon their chancel floors.

Am I deceived? Or is their requiem chanted

By voices never mute when Heaven unties

Her inmost, softest, tenderest harmonies;

Requiem which Earth takes up with voice undaunted,

When she would tell how Brave, and Good, and Wise,

For their high guerdon not in vain have panted!

IX

As faith thus sanctified the warrior's crest

While from the Papal Unity there came,

What feebler means had fail'd to give, one aim

Diffused thro' all the regions of the West;

So does her Unity its power attest

By works of Art, that shed, on the outward frame

Of worship, glory and grace, which who shall blame

That ever looked to heaven for final rest?

Hail countless Temples! that so well befit

Your ministry; that, as ye rise and take

Form, spirit and character from holy writ,

Give to devotion, wheresoe'er awake,

Pinions of high and higher sweep, and make

The unconverted soul with awe submit.

X

Where long and deeply hath been fixed the root

In the blest soil of gospel truth, the Tree,

(Blighted or scathed tho' many branches be,

Put forth to wither, many a hopeful shoot)

Can never cease to bear celestial fruit.

Witness the Church that oft-times, with effect

Dear to the saints, strives earnestly to eject

Her bane, her vital energies recruit.

Lamenting, do not hopelessly repine

When such good work is doomed to be undone,

The conquests lost that were so hardly won: –

All promises vouchsafed by Heaven will shine

In light confirmed while years their course shall run,

Confirmed alike in progress and decline.

XI

Transubstantiation

Enough! for see, with dim association

The tapers burn; the odorous incense feeds

A greedy flame; the pompous mass proceeds;

The Priest bestows the appointed consecration;

And, while the HOST is raised, its elevation

An awe and supernatural horror breeds;

And all the people bow their heads, like reeds

To a soft breeze, in lowly adoration.

This Valdo brooks not. On the banks of Rhone

He taught, till persecution chased him thence,

To adore the Invisible, and Him alone.

Nor are his Followers loth to seek defence,

'Mid woods and wilds, on Nature's craggy throne,

From rites that trample upon soul and sense.

XII

The Vaudois

But whence came they who for the Saviour Lord

Have long borne witness as the Scriptures teach? –

Ages ere Valdo raised his voice to preach

In Gallic ears the unadulterate Word,

Their fugitive Progenitors explored

Subalpine vales, in quest of safe retreats

Where that pure Church survives, though summer heats

Open a passage to the Romish sword,

Far as it dares to follow. Herbs self-sown,

And fruitage gathered from the chestnut-wood,

Nourish the sufferers then; and mists, that brood

O'er chasms with new-fallen obstacles bestrown,

Protect them; and the eternal snow that daunts

Aliens, is God's good winter for their haunts.

XIII

Praised be the Rivers, from their mountain springs

Shouting to Freedom, »Plant thy banners here!«

To harassed Piety, »Dismiss thy fear,

And in our caverns smooth thy ruffled wings!«

Nor be unthanked their final lingerings –

Silent, but not to high-souled Passion's ear –

'Mid reedy fens wide-spread and marshes drear,

Their own creation. Such glad welcomings

As Po was heard to give where Venice rose,

Hailed from aloft those Heirs of truth divine

Who near his fountains sought obscure repose,

Yet came prepared as glorious lights to shine,

Should that be needed for their sacred Charge;

Blest Prisoners They, whose spirits were at large!

XIV

Waldenses

Those had given earliest notice, as the lark

Springs from the ground the morn to gratulate;

Or rather rose the day to antedate,

By striking out a solitary spark,

When all the world with midnight gloom was dark. –

Then followed the Waldensian bands, whom Hate

In vain endeavours to exterminate,

Whom Obloquy pursues with hideous bark:

But they desist not; – and the sacred fire,

Rekindled thus, from dens and savage woods

Moves, handed on with never-ceasing care,

Through courts, through camps, o'er limitary floods:

Nor lacks this sea-girt Isle a timely share

Of the new Flame, not suffered to expire.

XV

Archbishop Chicheley to Henry V.

»What beast in wilderness or cultured field

The lively beauty of the leopard shows?

What flower in meadow-ground or garden grows

That to the towering lily doth not yield?

Let both meet only on thy royal shield!

Go forth, great King! claim what thy birth bestows;

Conquer the Gallic lily which thy foes

Dare to usurp; – thou hast a sword to wield,

And Heaven will crown the right.« – The mitred Sire

Thus spake – and lo! a Fleet, for Gaul addrest,

Ploughs her bold course across the wondering seas;

For, sooth to say, ambition, in the breast

Of youthful heroes, is no sullen fire,

But one that leaps to meet the fanning breeze.

XVI

Wars of York and Lancaster

Thus is the storm abated by the craft

Of a shrewd Counsellor, eager to protect

The Church, whose power hath recently been checked,

Whose monstrous riches threatened. So the shaft

Of victory mounts high, and blood is quaffed

In fields that rival Cressy and Poictiers –

Pride to be washed away by bitter tears!

For deep as hell itself, the avenging draught

Of civil slaughter. Yet, while temporal power

Is by these shocks exhausted, spiritual truth

Maintains the else endangered gift of life;

Proceeds from infancy to lusty youth;

And, under cover of this woeful strife,

Gathers unblighted strength from hour to hour.

XVII

Wicliffe

Once more the Church is seized with sudden fear,

And at her call is Wicliffe disinhumed:

Yea, his dry bones to ashes are consumed

And flung into the brook that travels near;

Forthwith that ancient Voice which Streams can hear

Thus speaks (that Voice which walks upon the wind,

Though seldom heard by busy human kind) –

»As thou these ashes, little Brook! wilt bear

Into the Avon, Avon to the tide

Of Severn, Severn to the narrow seas,

Into main Ocean they, this deed accurst

An emblem yields to friends and enemies

How the bold Teacher's Doctrine, sanctified

By truth, shall spread, throughout the world dispersed.«

XVIII

Corruptions of the Higher Clergy

»Woe to you, Prelates! rioting in ease

And cumbrous wealth – the shame of your estate;

You, on whose progress dazzling trains await

Of pompous horses; whom vain titles please;

Who will be served by others on their knees,

Yet will yourselves to God no service pay;

Pastors who neither take nor point the way

To Heaven; for, either lost in vanities

Ye have no skill to teach, or if ye know

And speak the word –« Alas! of fearful things

'Tis the most fearful when the people's eye

Abuse hath cleared from vain imaginings;

And taught the general voice to prophesy

Of Justice armed, and Pride to be laid low.

XIX

Abuse of Monastic Power

And what is Penance with her knotted thong;

Mortification with the shirt of hair,

Wan cheek, and knees indúrated with prayer,

Vigils, and fastings rigorous as long;

If cloistered Avarice scruple not to wrong

The pious, humble, useful Secular,

And rob the people of his daily care,

Scorning that world whose blindness makes her strong?

Inversion strange! that, unto One who lives

For self, and struggles with himself alone,

The amplest share of heavenly favour gives;

That to a Monk allots, both in the esteem

Of God and man, place higher than to him

Who on the good of others builds his own!

XX

Monastic Voluptuousness

Yet more, – round many a Convent's blazing fire

Unhallowed threads of revelry are spun;

There Venus sits disguisèd like a Nun, –

While Bacchus, clothed in semblance of a Friar,

Pours out his choicest beverage high and higher

Sparkling, until it cannot choose but run

Over the bowl, whose silver lip hath won

An instant kiss of masterful desire –

To stay the precious waste. Through every brain

The domination of the sprightly juice

Spreads high conceits to madding Fancy dear,

Till the arched roof, with resolute abuse

Of its grave echoes, swells a choral strain,

Whose votive burthen is – »OUR KINGDOM'S HERE!«

XXI

Dissolution of the Monasteries

Threats come which no submission may assuage,

No sacrifice avert, no power dispute;

The tapers shall be quenched, the belfries mute,

And, 'mid their choirs unroofed by selfish rage,

The warbling wren shall find a leafy cage;

The gadding bramble hang her purple fruit;

And the green lizard and the gilded newt

Lead unmolested lives, and die of age.

The owl of evening and the woodland fox

For their abode the shrines of Waltham choose:

Proud Glastonbury can no more refuse

To stoop her head before these desperate shocks –

She whose high pomp displaced, as story tells,

Arimathean Joseph's wattled cells.

XXII

The Same Subject

The lovely Nun (submissive, but more meek

Through saintly habit than from effort due

To unrelenting mandates that pursue

With equal wrath the steps of strong and weak)

Goes forth – unveiling timidly a cheek

Suffused with blushes of celestial hue,

While through the Convent's gate to open view

Softly she glides, another home to seek.

Not Iris, issuing from her cloudy shrine,

An Apparition more divinely bright!

Not more attractive to the dazzled sight

Those watery glories, on the stormy brine

Poured forth, while summer suns at distance shine,

And the green vales lie hushed in sober light!

XXIII

Continued

Yet many a Novice of the cloistral shade,

And many chained by vows, with eager glee

The warrant hail, exulting to be free;

Like ships before whose keels, full long embayed

In polar ice, propitious winds have made

Unlooked-for outlet to an open sea,

Their liquid world, for bold discovery,

In all her quarters temptingly displayed!

Hope guides the young; but when the old must pass

The threshold, whither shall they turn to find

The hospitality – the alms (alas!

Alms may be needed) which that House bestowed?

Can they, in faith and worship, train the mind

To keep this new and questionable road?

XXIV

Saints

Ye, too, must fly before a chasing hand,

Angels and Saints, in every hamlet mourned!

Ah! if the old idolatry be spurned,

Let not your radiant Shapes desert the Land:

Her adoration was not your demand,

The fond heart proffered it – the servile heart;

And therefore are ye summoned to depart,

Michael, and thou, St. George, whose flaming brand

The Dragon quelled; and valiant Margaret

Whose rival sword a like Opponent slew:

And rapt Cecilia, seraph-haunted Queen

Of harmony; and weeping Magdalene,

Who in the penitential desert met

Gales sweet as those that over Eden blew!

XXV

The Virgin

Mother! whose virgin bosom was uncrost

With the least shade of thought to sin allied;

Woman! above all women glorified,

Our tainted nature's solitary boast;

Purer than foam on central ocean tost;

Brighter than eastern skies at daybreak strewn

With fancied roses, than the unblemished moon

Before her wane begins on heaven's blue coast;

Thy Image falls to earth. Yet some, I ween,

Not unforgiven the suppliant knee might bend,

As to a visible Power, in which did blend

All that was mixed and reconciled in Thee

Of mother's love with maiden purity,

Of high with low, celestial with terrene!

XXVI

Apology

Not utterly unworthy to endure

Was the supremacy of crafty Rome;

Age after age to the arch of Christendom

Aerial keystone haughtily secure;

Supremacy from Heaven transmitted pure,

As many hold; and, therefore, to the tomb

Pass, some through fire – and by the scaffold some –

Like saintly Fisher, and unbending More.

»Lightly for both the bosom's lord did sit

Upon his throne;« unsoftened, undismayed

By aught that mingled with the tragic scene

Of pity or fear; and More's gay genius played

With the inoffensive sword of native wit,

Than the bare axe more luminous and keen.

XXVII

Imaginative Regrets

Deep is the lamentation! Not alone

From Sages justly honoured by mankind;

But from the ghostly tenants of the wind,

Demons and Spirits, many a dolorous groan

Issues for that dominion overthrown:

Proud Tiber grieves, and far-off Ganges, blind

As his own worshippers: and Nile, reclined

Upon his monstrous urn, the farewell moan

Renews. Through every forest, cave, and den,

Where frauds were hatched of old, hath sorrow past –

Hangs o'er the Arabian Prophet's native Waste,

Where once his airy helpers schemed and planned

'Mid spectral lakes bemocking thirsty men,

And stalking pillars built of fiery sand.

XXVIII

Reflections

Grant that by this unsparing hurricane

Green leaves with yellow mixed are torn away,

And goodly fruitage with the mother-spray;

'Twere madness – wished we, therefore, to detain,

With hands stretched forth in mollified disdain,

The ›trumpery‹ that ascends in bare display –

Bulls, pardons, relics, cowls black, white, and grey –

Upwhirled, and flying o'er the ethereal plain

Fast bound for Limbo Lake. And yet not choice

But habit rules the unreflecting herd,

And airy bonds are hardest to disown;

Hence, with the spiritual sovereignty transferred

Unto itself, the Crown assumes a voice

Of reckless mastery, hitherto unknown.

XXIX

Translation of the Bible

But, to outweigh all harm, the sacred Book,

In dusty sequestration wrapt too long,

Assumes the accents of our native tongue;

And he who guides the plough, or wields the crook,

With understanding spirit now may look

Upon her records, listen to her song,

And sift her laws – much wondering that the wrong,

Which Faith has suffered, Heaven could calmly brook.

Transcendent Boon! noblest that earthly King

Ever bestowed to equalize and bless

Under the weight of mortal wretchedness!

But passions spread like plagues, and thousands wild

With bigotry shall tread the Offering

Beneath their feet, detested and defiled.

XXX

The Point at Issue

For what contend the wise? – for nothing less

Than that the Soul, freed from the bonds of Sense,

And to her God restored by evidence

Of things not seen, drawn forth from their recess,

Root there, and not in forms, her holiness; –

For Faith, which to the Patriarchs did dispense

Sure guidance, ere a ceremonial fence

Was needful round men thirsting to transgress; –

For Faith, more perfect still, with which the Lord

Of all, himself a Spirit, in the youth

Of Christian aspiration, deigned to fill

The temples of their hearts who, with his word

Informed, were resolute to do his will,

And worship him in spirit and in truth.

XXXI

Edward VI.

»Sweet is the holiness of Youth« – so felt

Time-honoured Chaucer speaking through that Lay

By which the Prioress beguiled the way,

And many a Pilgrim's rugged heart did melt.

Hadst thou, loved Bard! whose spirit often dwelt

In the clear land of vision, but foreseen

King, child, and seraph, blended in the mien

Of pious Edward kneeling as he knelt

In meek and simple infancy, what joy

For universal Christendom had thrilled

Thy heart! what hopes inspired thy genius, skilled,

(O great Precursor, genuine morning Star)

The lucid shafts of reason to employ,

Piercing the Papal darkness from afar!

XXXII

Edward Signing the Warrant for the Execution of Joan of Kent

The tears of man in various measure gush

From various sources; gently overflow

From blissful transport some – from clefts of woe

Some with ungovernable impulse rush;

And some, coëval with the earliest blush

Of infant passion, scarcely dare to show

Their pearly lustre – coming but to go;

And some break forth when others' sorrows crush

The sympathising heart. Nor these, nor yet

The noblest drops to admiration known,

To gratitude, to injuries forgiven –

Claim Heaven's regard like waters that have wet

The innocent eyes of youthful Monarchs driven

To pen the mandates, nature doth disown.

XXXIII

Revival of Popery

The saintly Youth has ceased to rule, discrowned

By unrelenting Death. O People keen

For change, to whom the new looks always green!

Rejoicing did they cast upon the ground

Their Gods of wood and stone; and, at the sound

Of counter-proclamation, now are seen,

(Proud triumph is it for a sullen Queen!)

Lifting them up, the worship to confound

Of the Most High. Again do they invoke

The Creature, to the Creature glory give;

Again with frankincense the altars smoke

Like those the Heathen served; and mass is sung;

And prayer, man's rational prerogative,

Runs through blind channels of an unknown tongue.

XXXIV

Latimer and Ridley

How fast the Marian death-list is unrolled!

See Latimer and Ridley in the might

Of Faith stand coupled for a common flight!

One (like those prophets whom God sent of old)

Transfigured, from this kindling hath foretold

A torch of inextinguishable light;

The Other gains a confidence as bold;

And thus they foil their enemy's despite.

The penal instruments, the shows of crime,

Are glorified while this once-mitred pair

Of saintly Friends the »murtherer's chain partake,

Corded, and burning at the social stake:«

Earth never witnessed object more sublime

In constancy, in fellowship more fair!

XXXV

Cranmer

Outstretching flame-ward his upbraided hand

(O God of mercy, may no earthly Seat

Of judgment such presumptuous doom repeat!)

Amid the shuddering throng doth Cranmer stand;

Firm as the stake to which with iron band

His frame is tied; firm from the naked feet

To the bare head. The victory is complete;

The shrouded Body to the Soul's command

Answers with more than Indian fortitude,

Through all her nerves with finer sense endued,

Till breath departs in blissful aspiration:

Then, 'mid the ghastly ruins of the fire,

Behold the unalterable heart entire,

Emblem of faith untouched, miraculous attestation!1

1 For the belief in this fact, see the contemporary Historians.

XXXVI

General View of the Troubles of the Reformation

Aid, glorious Martyrs, from your fields of light,

Our mortal ken! Inspire a perfect trust

(While we look round) that Heaven's decrees are just:

Which few can hold committed to a fight

That shows, ev'n on its better side, the might

Of proud Self-will, Rapacity, and Lust,

'Mid clouds enveloped of polemic dust,

Which showers of blood seem rather to incite

Than to allay. Anathemas are hurled

From both sides; veteran thunders (the brute test

Of truth) are met by fulminations new –

Tartarean flags are caught at, and unfurled –

Friends strike at friends – the flying shall pursue –

And Victory sickens, ignorant where to rest!

XXXVII

English Reformers in Exile

Scattering, like birds escaped the fowler's net,

Some seek with timely flight a foreign strand;

Most happy, re-assembled in a land

By dauntless Luther freed, could they forget

Their Country's woes. But scarcely have they met,

Partners in faith, and brothers in distress,

Free to pour forth their common thankfulness,

Ere hope declines: – their union is beset

With speculative notions rashly sown,

Whence thickly-sprouting growth of poisonous weeds;

Their forms are broken staves; their passions, steeds

That master them. How enviably blest

Is he who can, by help of grace, enthrone

The peace of God within his single breast!

XXXVIII

Elizabeth

Hail, Virgin Queen! o'er many an envious bar

Triumphant, snatched from many a treacherous wile!

All hail, sage Lady, whom a grateful Isle

Hath blest, respiring from that dismal war

Stilled by thy voice! But quickly from afar

Defiance breathes with more malignant aim;

And alien storms with home-bred ferments claim

Portentous fellowship. Her silver car,

By sleepless prudence ruled, glides slowly on;

Unhurt by violence, from menaced taint

Emerging pure, and seemingly more bright:

Ah! wherefore yields it to a foul constraint

Black as the clouds its beams dispersed, while shone,

By men and angels blest, the glorious light?

XXXIX

Eminent Reformers

Methinks that I could trip o'er heaviest soil,

Light as a buoyant bark from wave to wave,

Were mine the trusty staff that JEWEL gave

To youthful HOOKER, in familiar style

The gift exalting, and with playful smile:

For thus equipped, and bearing on his head

The Donor's farewell blessing, can he dread

Tempest, or length of way, or weight of toil? –

More sweet than odours caught by him who sails

Near spicy shores of Araby the blest,

A thousand times more exquisitely sweet,

The freight of holy feeling which we meet,

In thoughtful moments, wafted by the gales

From fields where good men walk, or bowers wherein they rest.

XL

The Same

Holy and heavenly Spirits as they are,

Spotless in life, and eloquent as wise,

With what entire affection do they prize

Their Church reformed! labouring with earnest care

To baffle all that may her strength impair;

That Church, the unperverted Gospel's seat;

In their afflictions a divine retreat;

Source of their liveliest hope, and tenderest prayer! –

The truth exploring with an equal mind,

In doctrine and communion they have sought

Firmly between the two extremes to steer;

But theirs the wise man's ordinary lot,

To trace right courses for the stubborn blind,

And prophesy to ears that will not hear.

XLI

Distractions

Men, who have ceased to reverence, soon defy

Their forefathers; lo! sects are formed, and split

With morbid restlessness: – the ecstatic fit

Spreads wide; though special mysteries multiply,

The Saints must govern is their common cry;

And so they labour, deeming Holy Writ

Disgraced by aught that seems content to sit

Beneath the roof of settled Modesty.

The Romanist exults; fresh hope he draws

From the confusion, craftily incites

The overweening, personates the mad –

To heap disgust upon the worthier Cause:

Totters the Throne; the new-born Church is sad,

For every wave against her peace unites.

XLII

Gunpowder Plot

Fear hath a hundred eyes that all agree

To plague her beating heart; and there is one

(Nor idlest that!) which holds communion

With things that were not, yet were meant to be.

Aghast within its gloomy cavity

That eye (which sees as if fulfilled and done

Crimes that might stop the motion of the sun)

Beholds the horrible catastrophe

Of an assembled Senate unredeemed

From subterraneous Treason's darkling power:

Merciless act of sorrow infinite!

Worse than the product of that dismal night,

When gushing, copious as a thunder-shower,

The blood of Huguenots through Paris streamed.

XLIII

Illustration the Jung-Frau and the Fall of the Rhine Near Schaffhausen

The Virgin-Mountain,1 wearing like a Queen

A brilliant crown of everlasting snow,

Sheds ruin from her sides; and men below

Wonder that aught of aspect so serene

Can link with desolation. Smooth and green,

And seeming, at a little distance, slow,

The waters of the Rhine; but on they go

Fretting and whitening, keener and more keen;

Till madness seizes on the whole wide Flood,

Turned to a fearful Thing whose nostrils breathe

Blasts of tempestuous smoke – wherewith he tries

To hide himself, but only magnifies;

And doth in more conspicuous torment writhe,

Deafening the region in his ireful mood.

1 The Jung-frau.

XLIV

Troubles of Charles the First

Even such the contrast that, where'er we move,

To the mind's eye Religion doth present;

Now with her own deep quietness content;

Then, like the mountain, thundering from above

Against the ancient pine-trees of the grove

And the Land's humblest comforts. Now her mood

Recals the transformation of the flood,

Whose rage the gentle skies in vain reprove,

Earth cannot check. O terrible excess

Of headstrong will! Can this be Piety?

No – some fierce Maniac hath usurped her name;

And scourges England struggling to be free:

Her peace destroyed! her hopes a wilderness!

Her blessings cursed – her glory turned to shame!

XLV

Laud

Prejudged by foes determined not to spare,

An old weak Man for vengeance thrown aside,

Laud, ›in the painful art of dying‹ tried,

(Like a poor bird entangled in a snare

Whose heart still flutters, though his wings forbear

To stir in useless struggle) hath relied

On hope that conscious innocence supplied,

And in his prison breathes celestial air.

Why tarries then thy chariot? Wherefore stay,

O Death! the ensanguined yet triumphant wheels,

Which thou prepar'st, full often, to convey

(What time a State with madding faction reels)

The Saint or Patriot to the world that heals

All wounds, all perturbations doth allay?

XLVI

Afflictions of England

Harp! couldst thou venture, on thy boldest string,

The faintest note to echo which the blast

Caught from the hand of Moses as it pass'd

O'er Sinai's top, or from the Shepherd-king,

Early awake, by Siloa's brook, to sing

Of dread Jehovah; then, should wood and waste

Hear also of that name, and mercy cast

Off to the mountains, like a covering

Of which the Lord was weary. Weep, oh! weep,

Weep with the good, beholding King and Priest

Despised by that stern God to whom they raise

Their suppliant hands; but holy is the feast

He keepeth; like the firmament his ways:

His statutes like the chambers of the deep.

Part III

From the Restoration to the Present Times

I

I saw the figure of a lovely Maid

Seated alone beneath a darksome tree,

Whose fondly-overhanging canopy

Set off her brightness with a pleasing shade.

No Spirit was she; that my heart betrayed,

For she was one I loved exceedingly;

But while I gazed in tender reverie

(Or was it sleep that with my Fancy played?)

The bright corporeal presence – form and face –

Remaining still distinct grew thin and rare,

Like sunny mist; – at length the golden hair,

Shape, limbs, and heavenly features, keeping pace

Each with the other in a lingering race

Of dissolution, melted into air.

II

Patriotic Sympathies

Last night, without a voice, that Vision spake

Fear to my Soul, and sadness which might seem

Wholly dissevered from our present theme;

Yet, my belovèd Country! I partake

Of kindred agitations for thy sake;

Thou, too, dost visit oft my midnight dream;

Thy glory meets me with the earliest beam

Of light, which tells that Morning is awake.

If aught impair thy beauty or destroy,

Or but forbode destruction, I deplore

With filial love the sad vicissitude;

If thou hast fallen, and righteous Heaven restore

The prostrate, then my spring-time is renewed,

And sorrow bartered for exceeding joy.

III

Charles the Second

Who comes – with rapture greeted, and caress'd

With frantic love – his kingdom to regain?

Him Virtue's Nurse, Adversity, in vain

Received, and fostered in her iron breast:

For all she taught of hardiest and of best,

Or would have taught, by discipline of pain

And long privation, now dissolves amain,

Or is remembered only to give zest

To wantonness. – Away, Circean revels!

But for what gain? if England soon must sink

Into a gulf which all distinction levels –

That bigotry may swallow the good name,

And, with that draught, the life-blood: misery, shame,

By Poets loathed; from which Historians shrink!

IV

Latitudinarianism

Yet Truth is keenly sought for, and the wind

Charged with rich words poured out in thought's defence;

Whether the Church inspire that eloquence,

Or a Platonic Piety confined

To the sole temple of the inward mind;

And One there is who builds immortal lays,

Though doomed to tread in solitary ways,

Darkness before and danger's voice behind;

Yet not alone, nor helpless to repel

Sad thoughts; for from above the starry sphere

Come secrets, whispered nightly to his ear;

And the pure spirit of celestial light

Shines through his soul – »that he may see and tell

Of things invisible to mortal sight.«

V

Walton's Book of Lives

There are no colours in the fairest sky

So fair as these. The feather, whence the pen

Was shaped that traced the lives of these good men,

Dropped from an Angel's wing. With moistened eye

We read of faith and purest charity

In Stateman, Priest, and humble Citizen:

Oh could we copy their mild virtues, then

What joy to live, what blessedness to die!

Methinks their very names shine still and bright;

Apart – like glow-worms on a summer night;

Or lonely tapers when from far they fling

A guiding ray; or seen – like stars on high,

Satellites burning in a lucid ring

Around meek Walton's heavenly memory.

VI

Clerical Integrity

Nor shall the eternal roll of praise reject

Those Unconforming; whom one rigorous day

Drives from their Cures, a voluntary prey

To poverty, and grief, and disrespect,

And some to want – as if by tempests wrecked

On a wild coast; how destitute! did They

Feel not that Conscience never can betray,

That peace of mind is Virtue's sure effect.

Their altars they forego, their homes they quit,

Fields which they love, and paths they daily trod,

And cast the future upon Providence;

As men the dictate of whose inward sense

Outweighs the world; whom self-deceiving wit

Lures not from what they deem the cause of God.

VII

Persecution of the Scottish Covenanters

When Alpine Vales threw forth a suppliant cry,

The majesty of England interposed

And the sword stopped; the bleeding wounds were closed;

And Faith preserved her ancient purity.

How little boots that precedent of good,

Scorned or forgotten, Thou canst testify,

For England's shame, O Sister Realm! from wood,

Mountain, and moor, and crowded street, where lie

The headless martyrs of the Covenant,

Slain by Compatriot-protestants that draw

From councils senseless as intolerant

Their warrant. Bodies fall by wild sword-law;

But who would force the Soul, tilts with a straw

Against a Champion cased in adamant.

VIII

Acquittal of the Bishops

A voice, from long-expecting thousands sent,

Shatters the air, and troubles tower and spire;

For Justice hath absolved the innocent,

And Tyranny is balked of her desire:

Up, down, the busy Thames – rapid as fire

Coursing a train of gunpowder – it went,

And transport finds in every street a vent,

Till the whole City rings like one vast quire.

The Fathers urge the People to be still,

With outstretched hands and earnest speech – in vain!

Yea, many, haply wont to entertain

Small reverence for the mitre's offices,

And to Religion's self no friendly will,

A Prelate's blessing ask on bended knees.

IX

William the Third

Calm as an under-current, strong to draw

Millions of waves into itself, and run,

From sea to sea, impervious to the sun

And ploughing storm, the spirit of Nassau

Swerves not, (how blest if by religious awe

Swayed, and thereby enabled to contend

With the wide world's commotions) from its end

Swerves not – diverted by a casual law.

Had mortal action e'er a nobler scope?

The Hero comes to liberate, not defy;

And while he marches on with stedfast hope,

Conqueror beloved! expected anxiously!

The vacillating Bondman of the Pope

Shrinks from the verdict of his stedfast eye.

X

Obligations of Civil to Religious Liberty

Ungrateful Country, if thou e'er forget

The sons who for thy civil rights have bled!

How, like a Roman, Sidney bowed his head,

And Russel's milder blood the scaffold wet;

But these had fallen for profitless regret

Had not thy holy Church her champions bred,

And claims from other worlds inspirited

The star of Liberty to rise. Nor yet

(Grave this within thy heart!) if spiritual things

Be lost, through apathy, or scorn, or fear,

Shalt thou thy humbler franchises support,

However hardly won or justly dear:

What came from heaven to heaven by nature clings,

And, if dissevered thence, its course is short.

XI

Sacheverel

A sudden conflict rises from the swell

Of a proud slavery met by tenets strained

In Liberty's behalf. Fears, true or feigned,

Spread through all ranks; and lo! the Sentinel

Who loudest rang his pulpit 'larum bell,

Stands at the Bar, absolved by female eyes

Mingling their glances with grave flatteries

Lavished on Him – that England may rebel

Against her ancient virtue.