XXXIII.

THE COUNCIL OF CLERMONT.

"AND shall," the Pontiff asks, "profaneness flow
From Nazareth, source of Christian piety,
From Bethlehem, from the Mounts of Agony
And glorified ascension? Warriors, go,

With prayers and blessings we your path will sow;
Like Moses hold our hands erect, till ye
Have chased far off by righteous victory
These sons of Amalek, or laid them low!"
"GOD WILLETH IT," the whole assembly cry;
Shout which the enraptured multitude astounds!
The Council-roof and Clermont's towers reply;-
"God willeth it," from hill to hill rebounds,
And, in awe-stricken Countries far and nigh,
Through "Nature's hollow arch" that voice
resounds.*

XXXIV.

CRUSADES.

THE turbaned Race are poured in thickening

swarms

Along the west; though driven from Aquitaine, The Crescent glitters on the towers of Spain; And soft Italia feels renewed alarms;

*The decision of this Council was believed to be instantly known in remote parts of Europe.

The cimeter, that yields not to the charms
Of ease, the narrow Bosphorus will disdain;
Not long (that crossed) would Grecian hills detain
Their tents, and check the current of their arms.
Then blame not those who, by the mightiest lever
Known to the moral world, Imagination,
Upheave, so seems it, from her natural station
All Christendom: - they sweep along (was never
So huge a host!) to tear from the Unbeliever
The precious Tomb, their haven of salvation.

XXXV.

RICHARD I.

REDOUBTED King, of courage leonine,
I mark thee, Richard! urgent to equip
Thy warlike person with the staff and scrip;
I watch thee sailing o'er the midland brine;
In conquered Cyprus see thy Bride decline
Her blushing cheek, love-vows upon her lip,
And see love-emblems streaming from thy ship,
As thence she holds her way to Palestine.
My Song, a fearless homager, would attend
Thy thundering battle-axe as it cleaves the press
Of war, but duty summons her away

To tell — how, finding in the rash distress

Of those Enthusiasts a subservient friend,

To giddier heights hath clomb the Papal sway.

XXXVI.

AN INTERDICT.

REALMS quake by turns: proud Arbitress of grace,

The Church, by mandate shadowing forth the power

She arrogates o'er heaven's eternal door,
Closes the gates of every sacred place.

Straight from the sun and tainted air's embrace All sacred things are covered: cheerful morn no seemly garb is worn,

Grows sad as night,

Nor is a face allowed to meet a face

With natural smiles of greeting. Bells are dumb;

Ditches are graves,

funeral rites denied ;

And in the churchyard he must take his bride
Who dares be wedded! Fancies thickly come
Into the pensive heart ill fortified,

And comfortless despairs the soul benumb.

XXXVII.

PAPAL ABUSES.

As with the Stream our voyage we pursue,
The gross materials of this world present
A marvellous study of wild accident;
Uncouth proximities of old and new;
And bold transfigurations, more untrue
(As might be deemed) to disciplined intent

Than aught the sky's fantastic element,
When most fantastic, offers to the view.
Saw we not Henry scourged at Becket's shrine?
Lo! John self-stripped of his insignia :-crown,
Sceptre and mantle, sword and ring, laid down
At a proud Legate's feet! The spears that line
Baronial halls the opprobrious insult feel;
And angry Ocean roars a vain appeal.

XXXVIII.

SCENE IN VENICE.

BLACK Demons hovering o'er his mitred head, To Cæsar's successor the Pontiff spake :

"Ere I absolve thee, stoop! that on thy neck Levelled with earth this foot of mine may tread." Then he, who to the altar had been led,

He whose strong arm the Orient could not check, He who had held the Soldan at his beck,

Stooped, of all glory disinherited,

And even the common dignity of man!

Amazement strikes the crowd: while many turn Their eyes away in sorrow, others burn

With scorn, invoking a vindictive ban

From outraged Nature; but the sense of most
In abject sympathy with power is lost.

XXXIX.

PAPAL DOMINION.

UNLESS to Peter's Chair the viewless wind
Must come and ask permission when to blow,
What further empire would it have? for now
A ghostly Domination, unconfined

As that by dreaming Bards to Love assigned,
Sits there in sober truth, - to raise the low,

Perplex the wise, the strong to overthrow; Through earth and heaven to bind and to unbind!

Resist,

the thunder quails thee! - crouch, – rebuff

Shall be thy recompense! from land to land
The ancient thrones of Christendom are stuff
For occupation of a magic wand,

And 'tis the Pope that wields it: whether rough

Or smooth his front, our world is in his hand!

PART II.

TO THE CLOSE OF THE TROUBLES IN THE REIGN OF CHARLES I.

I.

How soon, alas! did Man, created pure,

By Angels guarded, deviate from the line