As humanizing graces, are but parts
And instruments of deadliest servitude!
THAT heresies should strike (if truth be scanned
Presumptuously) their roots both wide and deep,
Is natural as dreams to feverish sleep.
Lo! Discord at the altar dares to stand,
Uplifting toward high Heaven her fiery brand,
A cherished Priestess of the new-baptized!
But chastisement shall follow peace despised.
The Pictish cloud darkens the enervate land
By Rome abandoned; vain are suppliant cries,
And prayers that would undo her forced farewell;
For she returns not. Awed by her own knell,
She casts the Britons upon strange Allies,
Soon to become more dreaded enemies
Than heartless misery called them to repel.
STRUGGLE OF THE BRITONS AGAINST THE BARBARIANS
they have risen: of brave Aneurin ask How they have scourged old foes, perfidious friends The Spirit of Caractacus descends
Upon the Patriots, animates their task;
Amazement runs before the towering casque
Of Arthur, bearing through the stormy field
The Virgin sculptured on his Christian shield:
Stretched in the sunny light of victory bask
The Host that followed Urien as he strode
O'er heaps of slain ;- from Cambrian wood and
Druids descend, auxiliars of the Cross;
Bards, nursed on blue Plinlimmon's still abode, Rush on the fight, to harps preferring swords, And everlasting deeds to burning words!
NOR wants the cause the panic-striking aid
Of hallelujahs tost from hill to hill,
For instant victory. But Heaven's high will
Permits a second and a darker shade
Of Pagan night. Afflicted and dismayed,
The Relics of the sword flee to the mountains:
O wretched Land! whose tears have flowed like
Whose arts and honors in the dust are laid
By men yet scarcely conscious of a care
For other monuments than those of Earth;
Who, as the fields and woods have given them birth,
Will build their savage fortunes only there;
Content, if foss, and barrow, and the girth
Of long-drawn rampart, witness what they were.
MONASTERY OF OLD BANGOR.*
THE oppression of the tumult,—wrath and scorn.— The tribulation, and the gleaming blades,
Such is the impetuous spirit that pervades
the unarmed Host who by their prayers would
The sword from Bangor's walls, and guard the store
Of Aboriginal and Roman lore,
And Christian monuments, that now must burn
To senseless ashes. Mark! how all things swerve
From their known course, or vanish like a dream:
Another language spreads from coast to coast:
Only perchance some melancholy Stream
And some indignant Hills old names preserve,
When laws, and creeds, and people all are lost!
A BRIGHT-HAIRED company of youthful slaves.
Beautiful strangers, stand within the pale
Of a sad market, ranged for public sale,
Where Tiber's stream the Immortal City laves:
ANGLI by name; and not an ANGEL waves
His wing who could seem lovelier to man's eye Than they appear to holy Gregory;
Who, having learnt that name, salvation craves For them, and for their Land.
The earnest Sire, His questions urging, feels, in slender ties Of chiming sound, commanding sympathies; he would save them from God's IRE; Subjects of Saxon ÆLLA, they shall sing Glad HALLE-lujahs to the Eternal King!
FOR ever hallowed be this morning fair,
Blest be the unconscious shore on which ye
And blest the silver Cross, which ye, instead
Of martial banner, in procession bear;
The Cross preceding Him who floats in air,
The pictured Saviour!- By Augustin led,
They come, and onward travel without dread,
Chanting in barbarous ears a tuneful prayer,
Sung for themselves, and those whom they would
free!
Rich conquest waits them:- the tempestuous sea
Of Ignorance, that ran so rough and high,
And heeded not the voice of clashing swords,
These good men humble by a few bare words,
And calm with fear of God's divinity.
BUT, to remote Northumbria's royal Hall,
Where thoughtful Edwin, tutored in the school
Of sorrow, still maintains a heathen rule,
Who comes with functions apostolical?
Mark him, of shoulders curved, and stature tall,
Black hair, and vivid eye, and meagre cheek,
His prominent feature like an eagle's beak;
A Man whose aspect doth at once appall
And strike with reverence.
Toward the pure truths this Delegate propounds
Repeatedly his own deep mind he sounds
With careful hesitation, then convenes
A synod of his Councillors:-give ear,
And what a pensive Sage doth utter, hear!
"Man's life is like a Sparrow, mighty King!
That while at banquet with your Chiefs you si
Housed near a blazing fire — is seen to flit
Safe from the wintry tempest. Fluttering,
Here did it enter; there, on hasty wing,
Flies out, and passes on from cold to cold;
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