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.
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!
As faith thus sanctified the warrior's crest While from the Papal Unity there came, What feebler means had failed 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.
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 Confirmed alike in progress and decline.
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.
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 chesnut 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.
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!
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
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