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,
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!
AND what melodious sounds at times prevail!
And, ever and anon, how bright a gleam
Pours on the surface of the turbid Stream!
What heart-felt 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 honorable 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
Of many-colored life, that Fortune pours
Round the Crusaders, till on distant shores
Their labors 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 through 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 though many branches be,
Put forth to wither, many a hopeful shoot)
Can never cease to bear celestial fruit.
Witness the Church that ofttimes, 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.
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
Open a passage to the Romish sword,
Far as it dares to follow.
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.
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!
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