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!"
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.
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 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!
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?
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!
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!
Nor utterly unworthy to endure Was the supremacy of crafty Rome; Age after age to the arch of Christendom Aërial 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.
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.
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