CLOSING the sacred Book which long has fed Our meditations, give we to a day Of annual joy one tributary lay;
This day, when, forth by rustic music led, The village Children, while the sky is red With evening lights, advance in long array Through the still church-yard, each with garland gay, That,carried sceptre-like, o'ertops the head
Of the proud Bearer. To the wide church-door, Charged with these offerings which their fathers bore For decoration in the Papal time,
The innocent procession softly moves :—
The spirit of Laud is pleased in heaven's pure clime, And Hooker's voice the spectacle approves!
WOULD that our scrupulous Sires had dared to leave
Less scanty measure of those graceful rites
And usages, whose due return invites
A stir of mind too natural to deceive;
Giving to Memory help when she would weave A crown for Hope!—I dread the boasted lights That all too often are but fiery blights,
Killing the bud o'er which in vain we grieve. Go, seek, when Christmas snows discomfort bring, The counter Spirit found in some gay church Green with fresh holly, every pew a perch In which the linnet or the thrush might sing, Merry and loud and safe from prying search, Strains offered only to the genial Spring.
FROM low to high doth dissolution climb, And sink from high to low, along a scale Of awful notes, whose concord shall not fail; A musical but melancholy chime,
Which they can hear who meddle not with crime, Nor avarice, nor over-anxious care.
Truth fails not; but her outward forms that bear The longest date do melt like frosty rime, That in the morning whitened hill and plain And is no more; drop like the tower sublime Of yesterday, which royally did wear
His crown of weeds, but could not even sustain Some casual shout that broke the silent air, Or the unimaginable touch of Time.
MONASTIC Domes! following my downward way, Untouched by due regret I marked your fall! Now, ruin, beauty, ancient stillness, all Dispose to judgments temperate as we lay On our past selves in life's declining day: For as, by discipline of Time made wise, We learn to tolerate the infirmities And faults of others-gently as he may, So with our own the mild Instructor deals, Teaching us to forget them or forgive. Perversely curious, then, for hidden ill Why should we break Time's charitable seals ? Once ye were holy, ye are holy still; Your spirit freely let me drink, and live!
EVEN while I speak, the sacred roofs of France Are shattered into dust; and self-exiled From altars threatened, levelled, or defiled, Wander the Ministers of God, as chance
Opens a way for life, or consonance
Of faith invites. More welcome to no land The fugitives than to the British strand, Where priest and layman with the vigilance Of true compassion greet them. Creed and test Vanish before the unreserved embrace
Of catholic humanity:-distrest
They came,—and, while the moral tempest roars Throughout the Country they have left, our shores Give to their Faith a fearless resting-place.
THUS all things lead to Charity, secured By THEM who blessed the soft and happy gale That landward urged the great Deliverer's sail, Till in the sunny bay his fleet was moored! Propitious hour!-had we, like them, endured Sore stress of apprehension*, with a mind Sickened by injuries, dreading worse designed, From month to month trembling and unassured, How had we then rejoiced! But we have felt, As a loved substance, their futurity:
Good, which they dared not hope for, we have seen ; A State whose generous will through earth is dealt; A State-which, balancing herself between
Licence and slavish order, dares be free.
Bur liberty, and triumphs on the Main, And laurelled armies, not to be withstood- What serve they? if, on transitory good Intent, and sedulous of abject gain,
The State (ah, surely not preserved in vain!) Forbear to shape due channels which the Flood Of sacred truth may enter-till it brood O'er the wide realm, as o'er the Egyptian plain The all-sustaining Nile. No more-the time Is conscious of her want; through England's bounds, In rival haste, the wished-for Temples rise!
I hear their sabbath bells' harmonious chime Float on the breeze-the heavenliest of all sounds That vale or hill prolongs or multiplies!
BE this the chosen site; the virgin sod, Moistened from age to age by dewy eve, Shall disappear, and grateful earth receive The corner-stone from hands that build to God.
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