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Fear hath a hundred eyes that all agree
To plague her beating heart ; and there is one
(Nor idlest that !) which holds communion
With things that were not, yet were meant to be.
Aghast within its gloomy cavity
That eye (which sees as if fulfilled and done
Crimes that might stop the motion of the sun)
Beholds the horrible catastrophe
Of an assembled Senate unredeemed
From subterraneous Treason's darkling power :
Merciless act of sorrow infinite !
Worse than the product of that dismal night,
When gushing, copious as a thunder-shower,
The blood of Huguenots through Paris streamed.

PREJUDGED by foes determined not to spare,
An old weak Man for vengeance thrown aside,
Laud, “in the painful art of dying' tried,
(Like a poor bird entangled in a snare
Whose heart still flutters, though his wings forbear
To stir in useless struggle) hath relied
On hope that conscious innocence supplied,
And in his prison breathes celestial air.
Why tarries then thy chariot? Wherefore stay,
O Death ! the ensanguined yet triumphant wheels,
Which thou prepar’st, full often, to convey
(What time a State with madding faction reels)
The Saint or Patriot to the world that heals
All wounds, all perturbations doth allay ?







The Virgin Mountain , wearing like a Queen
A brilliant crown of everlasting snow,
Sheds ruin from her sides; and men below
Wonder that aught of aspect so serene
Can link with desolation. Smooth and green,
And seeming, at a little distance, slow,
The waters of the Rhine; but on they go
Fretting and whitening, keener and more keen;
Till madness seizes on the whole wide Flood,
Turned to a fearful Thing whose nostrils breathe
Blasts of tempestuous smoke—wherewith he tries
To hide himself, but only magnifies ;
And doth in more conspicuous torment writhe,
Deafening the region in his ireful mood.

HARP! could'st thou venture, on thy boldest string,
The faintest note to echo which the blast
Caught from the hand of Moses as it pass'd
O’er Sinai's top, or from the Shepherd-king,
Early awake, by Siloa’s brook, to sing
Of dread Jehovah ; then, should wood and waste
Hear also of that name, and mercy cast
Off to the mountains, like a covering
Of which the Lord was weary. Weep, oh! weep,
Weep with the good, beholding King and Priest
Despised by that stern God to whom they raise
Their suppliant hands ; but holy is the feast
He keepeth ; like the firmament his ways :
His statutes like the chambers of the deep.






Even such the contrast that, where'er we move, I saw the figure of a lovely Maid
To the mind's eye Religion doth present ;

Seated alone beneath a darksome tree,
Now with her own deep quietness content ; Whose fondly-overhanging canopy
Then, like the mountain, thundering from above Set off her brightness with a pleasing shade.
Against the ancient pine-trees of the grove

No Spirit was she ; that my heart betrayed,
And the Land's humblest comforts. Now her

For she was one I loved exceedingly ;
Recals the transformation of the flood, [mood But while I gazed in tender reverie
Whose rage the gentle skies in vain reprove, (Or was it sleep that with my Fancy played ?)
Earth cannot check. O terrible excess

The bright corporeal presence—form and face Of headstrong will ! Can this be Piety?

Remaining still distinct grew thin and rare, No—some fierce Maniac hath usurped her name ;

Like sunny mist ;-—at length the golden hair, And scourges England struggling to be free :

Shape, limbs, and heavenly features, keeping pace Her peace destroyed ! her hopes a wilderness !

Each with the other in a lingering race Her blessings cursed-her glory turned to shame!

Of dissolution, melted into air.

* The Jung-frau.

* See Note.

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Last night, without a voice, that Vision spake
Fear to my Soul, and sadness which might seem
Wholly dissevered from our present theme;
Yet, my beloved Country! I partake
Of kindred agitations for thy sake;
Thou, too, dost visit oft my midnight dream;
Thy glory meets me with the earliest beam
Of light, which tells that Morning is awake.
If aught impair thy beauty or destroy,
Or but forebode destruction, I deplore
With filial love the sad vicissitude ;
If thou hast fallen, and righteous Heaven restore
The prostrate, then my spring-time is renewed,
And sorrow bartered for exceeding joy.

THERE are no colours in the fairest sky
So fair as these. The feather, whence the pen
Was shaped that traced the lives of these good men,
Dropped from an Angel's wing. With moistened eye
We read of faith and purest charity
In Statesman, Priest, and humble Citizen:
O could we copy their mild virtues, then
What joy to live, what blessedness to die !
Methinks their very names shine still and bright;
Apart—like glow-worms on a summer night ;
Or lonely tapers when from far they fling
A guiding ray; or seen-like stars on high,
Satellites burning in a lucid ring
Around meek Walton's heavenly memory.

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Who comes—with rapture greeted, and caress’d
With frantic love-his kingdom to regain? Nor shall the eternal roll of praise reject
Him Virtue's Nurse, Adversity, in vain

Those Unconforming; whom one rigorous day
Received, and fostered in her iron breast : Drives from their Cures, a voluntary prey
For all she taught of hardiest and of best, To poverty, and grief, and disrespect,
Or would have taught, by discipline of pain And some to want-as if by tempests wrecked
And long privation, now dissolves amain,

On a wild coast; how destitute ! did They Or is remembered only to give zest

Feel not that Conscience never can betray, To wantonness.-Away, Circean revels !

That peace of mind is Virtue's sure effect. But for what gain? if England soon must sink Their altars they forego, their homes they quit, Into a gulf which all distinction levels

Fields which they love, and paths they daily trod, That bigotry may swallow the good name, And cast the future upon Providence; And, with that draught, the life-blood : misery, | As men the dictate of whose inward sense shame,

Outweighs the world ; whom self-deceiving wit By Poets loathed; from which Historians shrink! | Lures not from what they deem the cause of God.




PERSECUTION OF THE SCOTTISH COVENANTERS. YET Truth is keenly sought for, and the wind Charged with rich words poured out in thought's Wuen Alpine Vales threw forth a suppliant cry, defence;

The majesty of England interposed [closed; Whether the Church inspire that eloquence, And the sword stopped; the bleeding wounds were Or a Platonic Piety confined

And Faith preserved her ancient purity. To the sole temple of the inward mind;

How little boots that precedent of good, And One there is who builds immortal lays, Scorned or forgotten, Thou canst testify, Though doomed to tread in solitary ways,

For England's shame, O Sister Realm ! from wood, Darkness before and danger's voice behind; Mountain, and moor, and crowded street, where lie Yet not alone, nor helpless to repel

The headless martyrs of the Covenant, Sad thoughts; for from above the starry sphere Slain by Compatriot-protestants that draw Come secrets, whispered nightly to his ear;

From councils senseless as intolerant And the pure spirit of celestial light

Their warrant. Bodies fall by wild sword-law; Shines through his soul—that he may see and tell But who would force the Soul, tilts with a straw Of things invisible to mortal sight.'

Against a Champion cased in adamant.





A voice, from long-expecting thousands sent, A SUDDEN conflict rises from the swell
Shatters the air, and troubles tower and spire; Of a proud slavery met by tenets strained
For Justice hath absolved the innocent,

In Liberty's behalf. Fears, true or feigned, And Tyranny is balked of her desire :

Spread through all ranks; and lo! the Sentinel Up, down, the busy Thames—rapid as fire Who loudest rang his pulpit ’larum bell, Coursing a train of gunpowder—it went,

Stands at the Bar, absolved by female eyes And transport finds in every street a vent, Mingling their glances with grave flatteries Till the whole City rings like one vast quire. Lavished on Himthat England may rebel The Fathers urge the People to be still, (vain ! Against her ancient virtue. High and Low, With outstretched hands and earnest speech-in Watch-words of Party, on all tongues are rife; Yea, many, haply wont to entertain

As if a Church, though sprung from heaven, must Small reverence for the mitre's offices,

To opposites and fierce extremes her life,– [owe And to Religion's self no friendly will,

Not to the golden mean, and quiet flow A Prelate's blessing ask on bended knees.

Of truths that soften hatred, temper strife.

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Calm as an under-current, strong to draw
Millions of waves into itself, and run,
From sea to sea, impervious to the sun
And ploughing storm, the spirit of Nassau
(Swerves not, how blest if by religious awe
Swayed, and thereby enabled to contend
With the wide world's commotions) from its end
Swerves not-diverted by a casual law.
Had mortal action e'er a nobler scope ?
The Hero comes to liberate, not defy;
And, while he marches on with stedfast hope,
Conqueror beloved ! expected anxiously!
The vacillating Bondman of the Pope
Shrinks from the verdict of his stedfast eye,

Down a swift Stream, thus far, a bold design
Have we pursued, with livelier stir of heart
Than his who sees, borne forward by the Rhine,
The living landscapes greet him, and depart;
Sees spires fast sinking-up again to start!
And strives the towers to number, that recline
O'er the dark steeps, or on the horizon line
Striding with shattered crests his eye athwart.
So have we hurried on with troubled pleasure:
Henceforth, as on the bosom of a stream
That slackens, and spreads wide a watery gleam,
We, nothing loth a lingering course to measure,
May gather up our thoughts, and mark at leisure
How widely spread the interests of our theme.






UNGRATEFUL Country, if thou e'er forget

Well worthy to be magnified are they The sons who for thy civil rights have bled ! Who, with sad hearts, of friends and country took How, like a Roman, Sidney bowed his head, A last farewell, their loved abodes forsook, And Russel's milder blood the scaffold wet;

And hallowed ground in which their fathers lay; But these had fallen for profitless regret

Then to the new-found World explored their way, Had not thy holy Church her champions bred, That so a Church, unforced, uncalled to brook And claims from other worlds inspirited

Ritual restraints, within some sheltering nook The star of Liberty to rise. Nor yet

Her Lord might worship and his word obey (Grave this within thy heart !) if spiritual things In freedom. Men they were who could not bend; Be lost, through apathy, or scorn, or fear, Blest Pilgrims, surely, as they took for guide Shalt thou thy humbler franchises support, A will by sovereign Conscience sanctified ; However hardly won or justly dear:

Blest while their Spirits from the woods ascend What came from heaven to heaven by nature clings, Along a Galaxy that knows no end, And, if dissevered thence, its course is short. But in His glory who for Sinners died.





From Rite and Ordinance abused they fled
To Wilds where both were utterly unknown;
But not to them had Providence foreshown
What benefits are missed, what evils bred,
In worship neither raised nor limited
Save by Self-will. Lo ! from that distant shore,
For Rite and Ordinance, Piety is led
Back to the Land those Pilgrims left of yore,
Led by her own free choice. So Truth and Love
By Conscience governed do their steps retrace.-
Fathers ! your Virtues, such the power of

Their spirit, in your Children, thus approve.
Transcendent over time, unbound by place,
Concord and Charity in circles move.

As star that shines dependent upon star
Is to the sky while we look up in love;
As to the deep fair ships which though they move
Seem fixed, to eyes that watch them from afar;
As to the sandy desert fountains are,
With palm-groves shaded at wide intervals,
Whose fruit around the sun-burnt Native falls
Of roving tired or desultory war-
Such to this British Isle her christian Fanes,
Each linked to each for kindred services;
Her Spires, her Steeple-towers with glittering vanes
Far-kenned, her Chapels lurking among trees,
Where a few villagers on bended knees
Find solace which a busy world disdains.

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III. CONCLUDED.-AMERICAN EPISCOPACY. Patriots informed with Apostolic light

A GENIAL hearth, a hospitable board,

And a refined rusticity, belong Were they, who, when their Country had been freed,

To the neat mansion, where, his flock among, Bowing with reverence to the ancient creed, Fixed on the frame of England's Church their sight, Though meek and patient as a sheathèd sword;

The learned Pastor dwells, their watchful Lord. And strove in filial love to reunite What force had severed. Thence they fetched the Though pride's least lurking thought appear a seed


To human kind; though peace be on his tongue, Of Christian unity, and won a meed

Gentleness in his heart-can earth afford
Of praise from Heaven. To Thee, 0 saintly WHITE,
Patriarch of a wide-spreading family,

Such genuine state, pre-eminence so free,
Remotest lands and unborn times shall turn,

As when, arrayed in Christ's authority, Whether they would restore or build—to Thee,

He from the pulpit lifts his awful hand; As one who rightly taught how zeal should burn,

Conjures, implores, and labours all he can As one who drew from out Faith's holiest urn

For re-subjecting to divine command The purest stream of patient Energy.

The stubborn spirit of rebellious man?

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Bishops and Priests, blessed are ye, if deep Yes, if the intensities of hope and fear (As yours above all offices is high)

Attract us still, and passionate exercise Deep in your hearts the sense of duty lie; Of lofty thoughts, the way before us lies Charged as ye are by Christ to feed and keep Distinct with signs, through which in set career, From wolves your portion of his chosen sheep: As through a zodiac, moves the ritual year Labouring as ever in your Master's sight, Of England's Church ; stupendous mysteries ! Making your hardest task your best delight, Which whoso travels in her bosom eyes, What perfect glory ye in Heaven shall reap!- As he approaches them, with solemn cheer. But, in the solemn Office which ye sought Upon that circle traced from sacred story And undertook premonished, if unsound

We only dare to cast a transient glance, Your practice prove, faithless though but in thought, Trusting in hope that Others may advance Bishops and Priests, think what a gulf profound With mind intent upon the King of Glory, Awaits you then, if they were rightly taught From his mild advent till his countenance Who framed the Ordinance by your lives disowned ! | Shall dissipate the seas and mountains hoary.

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Dear be the Church, that, watching o'er the needs The Young-ones gathered in from hill and dale, Of Infancy, provides a timely shower

With holiday delight on every brow : Whose virtue changes to a christian Flower 'Tis passed away; far other thoughts prevail ; A Growth from sinful Nature's bed of weeds ! For they are taking the baptismal Vow Fitliest beneath the sacred roof proceeds

Upon their conscious selves; their own lips speak The ministration ; while parental Love

The solemn promise. Strongest sinews fail, Looks on, and Grace descendeth from above And many a blooming, many a lovely, cheek As the high service pledges now, now pleads.

Under the holy fear of God turns pale ; There, should vain thoughts outspread their wings While on each head his lawn-robed Servant lays To meet the coming hours of festal mirth, [and fly An apostolic hand, and with prayer seals The tombs—which hear and answer that brief cry, The Covenant. The Omnipotent will raise The Infant's notice of his second birth

Their feeble Souls ; and bear with his regrets, Recal the wandering Soul to sympathy

Who, looking round the fair assemblage, feels With what man hopes from Heaven, yet fears from That ere the Sun goes down their childhood sets.






Father ! to God himself we cannot give
A holier name ! then lightly do not bear
Both names conjoined, but of thy spiritual care
Be duly mindful : still more sensitive
Do Thou, in truth a second Mother, strive
Against disheartening custom, that by Thee
Watched, and with love and pious industry
Tended at need, the adopted Plant may thrive
For everlasting bloom. Benign and pure
This Ordinance, whether loss it would supply,
Prevent omission, help deficiency,
Or seek to make assurance doubly sure.
Shame if the consecrated Vow be found
An idle form, the Word an empty sound !

I saw a Mother's eye intensely bent
Upon a Maiden trembling as she knelt ;
In and for whom the pious Mother felt
Things that we judge of by a light too faint:
Tell, if ye may, some star-crowned Muse, or Saint!
Tell what rushed in, from what she was relieved
Then, when her Child the hallowing touch received,
And such vibration through the Mother vent
That tears burst forth amain. Did gleams appear?
Opened a vision of that blissful place
Where dwells a Sister-child ? And was power given
Part of her lost One's glory back to trace
Even to this Rite? For thus She knelt, and, ere
The summer-leaf had faded, passed to Heaven.





By chain yet stronger must the Soul be tied : From Little down to Least, in due degree,

One duty more, last stage of this ascent, Around the Pastor, each in new-wrought vest, Brings to thy food, mysterious Sacrament ! Each with a vernal posy at his breast,

The Offspring, haply at the Parent's side; We stood, a trembling, earnest Company !

But not till They, with all that do abide With low soft murmur, like a distant bee,

In Heaven, have lifted up their hearts to laud Some spake, by thought-perplexing fears betrayed; And magnify the glorious name of God, And some a bold unerring answer made :

Fountain of grace, whose Son for sinners died. How fluttered then thy anxious heart for me, Ye, who have duly weighed the summons, pause Beloved Mother! Thou whose happy hand No longer ; ye, whom to the saving rite Had bound the flowers I wore, with faithful tie : The Altar calls ; come early under laws Sweet flowers ! at whose inaudible command That can secure for you a path of light Her countenance, phantom-like, doth re-appear : Through gloomiest shade ; put on (nor dread its O lost too early for the frequent tear,

weight) And ill requited by this heartfelt sigh !

Armour divine, and conquer in your cause !

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