These spreading towns a cloak for lawless Nemean victor's brow; less bright was will?

Forbid it, Heaven!-and MERRY ENG- Meed of some Roman chief—in triumph LAND still borne

Shall be thy rightful name, in prose and With captives chained; and shedding

Through my green courts; or climbing, a Of thy new hearth; and sooner shall its

When Bega sought of yore the Cumbrian coast,

Tempestuous winds her holy errand crossed:

She knelt in prayer-the waves their wrath appease;

And, from her vow well weighed in Heaven's decrees, 35 Rose, where she touched the strand, the Chantry of St. Bees.

"Cruel of heart were they, bloody of hand,"

Who in these Wilds then struggled for command;

The strong were merciless, without hope the weak;

Till this bright Stranger came, fair as day-break,

40

And as a cresset true that darts its length
Of beamy lustre from a tower of strength;
Guiding the mariner through troubled seas,
And cheering oft his peaceful reveries,

At Danger's bidding, may confront the Like the fixed Light that crowns yon

With thy stern aspect better far agrees 25
Utterance of thanks that we have past

with ease,

As millions thus shall do, the Headlands of St. Bees.

How savage bosoms melted at the sound
Of gospel-truth enchained in harmonies
Wafted o'er waves, or creeping through
close trees,

From her religious Mansion of St. Bees.

When her sweet Voice, that instrument of love,

55

Was glorified, and took its place, above The silent stars, among the angelic quire, Her chantry blazed with sacrilegious fire, And perished utterly; but her good deeds Yet, while each useful Art augments her Had sown the spot, that witnessed them, store,

with seeds

60

What boots the gain if Nature should Which lay in earth expectant, till a breeze With quickening impulse answered their

lose more?

And Wisdom, as she holds a Christian place

30

In man's intelligence sublimed by grace?

mute pleas,

And lo! a statelier pile, the Abbey of
St. Bees.

There are the naked clothed, the hungry It charms a feast-day throng of all de

Conscience, the timid being's inmost light,
Hope of the dawn and solace of the night, To sound the crystal depth of maiden

Which staff and cockle hat and sandal Peasant and mail-clad Chief with pious shoon

Claim for the pilgrim: and, though chid- As at this day men seeing what they ings sharp

May sometimes greet the strolling min- Or the bare wreck of faith's solemnities,
strel's harp,
Aspire to more than earthly destinies; 125
It is not then when, swept with sportive Witness yon Pile that greets us from

Yet more;

around those Churches, To Prowess guided by her insight keen gathered Towns Matter and Spirit are as one Machine; Safe from the feudal Castle's haughty Boastful Idolatress of formal skill She in her own would merge the eternal will:

frowns; Peaceful abodes, where Justice might uphold

Her scales with even hand, and culture
mould
130
The heart to pity, train the mind in care
For rules of life, sound as the Time could
bear.

Nor dost thou fail, thro' abject love of ease,
Or hindrance raised by sordid purposes,
To bear thy part in this good work,
St. Bees.

135

1 See "Excursion," seventh part; and "Ecclesiastical Sketches," second part, near the be ginning.