INSIDE OF KING'S COLLEGE CHAPEL, CAMBRIDGE. 101

XLIII.

INSIDE OF KING'S COLLEGE CHAPEL,

CAMBRIDGE.

TAX not the royal Saint with vain expense,
With ill-matched aims the Architect who planned-
Albeit labouring for a scanty band

Of white-robed Scholars only-this immense
And glorious Work of fine intelligence !

Give all thou canst; high Heaven rejects the lore
Of nicely-calculated less or more;

So deemed the man who fashioned for the sense
These lofty pillars, spread that branching roof
Self-poised, and scooped into ten thousand cells,
Where light and shade repose, where music dwells
Lingering, and wandering on as loth to die;
Like thoughts whose very sweetness yieldeth proof
That they were born for immortality.

XLIV.

THE SAME.

WHAT awful perspective! while from our sight
With gradual stealth the lateral windows hide
Their Portraitures, their stone-work glimmers, dyed
In1 the soft chequerings of a sleepy light.
Martyr, or King, or sainted Eremite,
Whoe'er ye be, that thus, yourselves unseen,

1 1827.

Their portraiture the lateral windows hide
Glimmers their corresponding stone-work, dyed

* King Henry VI., who founded King's College, Cambridge.—ED.

102

EJACULATION.

Imbue your prison-bars with solemn sheen,
Shine on, until ye fade with coming Night!
But, from the arms of silence-list! O list!
The music bursteth into second life;

The notes luxuriate, every stone is kissed
By sound, or ghost of sound, in mazy strife;
Heart-trilling strains, that cast, before the eye
Of the devout, a veil of ecstasy!

XLV.

CONTINUED.

THEY dreamt not of a perishable home

Who thus could build. Be mine, in hours of fear
Or grovelling thought, to seek a refuge here;
Or through the aisles of Westminster to roam;
Where bubbles burst, and folly's dancing foam
Melts, if it cross the threshold; where the wreath
Of awe-struck wisdom droops: or let my path
Lead to that younger Pile, whose sky-like dome *
Hath typified by reach of daring art

Infinity's embrace; whose guardian crest,
The silent Cross, among the stars shall spread
As now, when She hath also seen her breast
Filled with mementos, satiate with its part
Of grateful England's overflowing Dead.

XLVI.

EJACULATION.

GLORY to GOD! and to the POWER who came

In filial duty, clothed with love divine,

* St Paul's Cathedral, built by Sir Christopher Wren (1675-1710).—ED.

CONCLUSION.

That made his human tabernacle shine

Like Ocean burning with purpureal flame;

Or like the Alpine Mount, that takes its name
From roseate hues,* far kenned at morn and even,
In hours of peace, or when the storm is driven
Along the nether region's rugged frame!

Earth prompts-Heaven urges; let us seek the light,
Studious of that pure intercourse begun

When first our infant brows their lustre won;
So, like the Mountain, may we grow more bright
From unimpeded commerce with the Sun,

At the approach of all-involving night.

XLVII.

CONCLUSION.

WHY sleeps the future, as a snake enrolled,

Coil within coil, at noon-tide?

For the WORD

103

Yields, if with unpresumptuous faith explored,

Power at whose touch the sluggard shall unfold

His drowsy rings. Look forth!-THAT STREAM behold, That Stream upon whose bosom we have passed Floating at ease while nations have effaced

Nations, and Death has gathered to his fold

Long lines of mighty Kings-look forth, my Soul !
(Nor in this vision be thou slow to trust).

The living Waters, less and less by guilt
Stained and polluted, brighten as they roll,

Till they have reached the eternal City-built
For the perfécted Spirits of the just!

1 1827.

(Nor in that

1822.

Some say that Monte Rosa takes its name from a belt of rock at its summit-a very unpoetical and scarcely a probable supposition.-W. W.,

Only three Poems and two Sonnets were written in 1823. The former include the Stanzas to Memory, and those addressed To the Lady Fleming, on seeing the Foundation preparing for the erection of Rydal Chapel, Westmoreland.

As aptly, also, might be given

A Pencil to her hand;

That, softening objects, sometimes even

Outstrips the heart's demand;

That smoothes foregone distress, the lines

Of lingering care subdues,

Long-vanished happiness refines,

And clothes in brighter hues;

Yet, like a tool of Fancy, works

Those Spectres to dilate

That startle Conscience, as she lurks

Within her lonely seat.

O that our lives, which flee so fast,

In purity were such,

That not an image of the past

Should fear that pencil's touch!

Retirement then might hourly look
Upon a soothing scene,

TO THE LADY FLEMING.

Age steal to his allotted nook
Contented and serene;

With heart as calm as lakes that sleep,

In frosty moonlight glistening;
Or mountain rivers, where they creep

Along a channel smooth and deep,

To their own far-off murmurs listening.

105

For the circumstances which gave rise to this poem, see the Fenwick note to the lines, Written in a Blank Leaf of Macpherson's Ossian, in the Scottish tour of 1833.-ED.

TO THE LADY FLEMING,1

ON SEEING THE FOUNDATION PREPARING FOR THE ERECTION OF RYDAL CHAPEL,2 WESTMORELAND.

[After thanking Lady Fleming in prose for the service she had done to her neighbourhood by erecting this Chapel, I have nothing to say beyond the expression of regret that the architect did not furnish an elevation better suited to the site in a narrow mountain-pass, and, what is of more consequence, better constructed in the interior for the purposes of worship. It has no chancel; the altar is unbecomingly confined; the pews are so narrow as to preclude the possibility of kneeling with comfort; there is no vestry; and what ought to have been first mentioned, the font, instead of standing at its proper place at the entrance, is thrust into the farther end of a pew. When these defects shall be pointed out to the munificent Patroness, they will, it is hoped, be corrected.*]

I.

BLEST is this Isle-our native Land;

Where battlement and moated gate

Are objects only for the hand

Of hoary Time to decorate;

Rydal Chapel remained in the state mentioned in the Fenwick note till the year 1884.-ED.