My purpose in writing this Series was, as much as possible, to confine my view to the introduction, progress, and operation of the Church in England, both previous and subsequent to the Reformation. The Sonnets were written long before ecclesiastical history and points of doctrine had excited the interest with which they have been recently enquired into and discussed. The former particular is mentioned as an excuse for my having fallen into error in respect to an incident which had been selected as setting forth the height to which the power of the Popedom over temporal sovereignty had attained, and the arrogance with which it was displayed. I allude to the last Sonnet but one in the first series, where Pope Alexander the third at Venice is described as setting his foot on the neck of the Emperor Barbarossa. Though this is related as a fact in history, I am told it is a mere legend of no authority. Substitute for it an undeniable truth not less fitted for my purpose, namely, the penance inflicted by Gregory the Seventh upon the Emperor Henry the Fourth. Before I conclude my notice of these Sonnets, let me observe that the opinion I pronounced in favour of Laud (long before the Oxford Tract movement) and which had brought censure upon me from several quarters, is not in the least changed. Omitting here to examine into his conduct in respect to the persecuting spirit with which he has been charged, I am persuaded that most of his aims to restore ritual practices which had been abandoned were good and wise, whatever errors he might commit in the manner he sometimes attempted to enforce them. I further believe that, had not he, and others who shared his opinions and felt as he did, stood up in opposition to the reformers of that period, it is questionable whether the Church would ever have recovered its lost ground and become the blessing it now is, and will, I trust, become in a still greater degree, both to those of its communion and to those who unfortunately are separated from it. IV DRUIDICAL EXCOMMUNICATION 1821. 1822 MERCY and Love have met thee on thy road, Thou wretched Outcast, from the gift of fire And food cut off by sacerdotal ire, From every sympathy that Man bestowed! Justice, and order. Tremblingly escaped, Glimmers through many a superstitious form That fills the Soul with unavailing ruth. With malice ne'er to deadliest weapon linked Which God's ethereal store-houses afford: Against the Followers of the incarnate Lord It rages; some are smitten in the field — Some pierced to the heart through the ineffectual shield Of sacred home; - with pomp are others gored And dreadful respite. Thus was Alban tried, England's first Martyr, whom no threats could shake; Self-offered victim, for his friend he died, And for the faith; nor shall his name forsake That Hill, whose flowery platform seems to rise By Nature decked for holiest sacrifice. Their radiance through the woods - may yet suffice To sap your hardy virtue, and abate Of your redemption. Shun the insidious arts That Rome provides, less dreading from her frown Than from her wily praise, her peaceful gown, Language, and letters; - these, though fondly viewed As humanising graces, are but parts VII RECOVERY 1821. 1822 As, when a storm hath ceased, the birds regain Their cheerfulness, and busily retrim Even in her own despite, both feed and cheer; For all things are less dreadful than they seem. VIII TEMPTATIONS FROM ROMAN REFINE MENTS 1821. 1822 WATCH, and be firm! for, soul-subduing vice, Heart-killing luxury, on your steps await. Fair houses, baths, and banquets delicate, And temples flashing, bright as polar ice, IX DISSENSIONS 1821. 1822 THAT heresies should strike (if truth be scanned Presumptuously) their roots both wide and deep, Is natural as dreams to feverish sleep. 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. NOR wants the cause the panic-striking aid Permits a second and a darker shade O wretched Land! whose tears have flowed like fountains; Whose arts and honours 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. XII MONASTERY OF OLD BANGOR 1821. 1822 THE oppression of the tumult wrath and scorn The tribulation-and the gleaming blades Such is the impetuous spirit that pervades The song of Taliesin;-Ours shall mourn The unarmed Host who by their prayers would turn The sword from Bangor's walls, and guard the store Of Aboriginal and Roman lore, But from what world She came, what woe or weal On her departure waits, no tongue hath shown; This mystery if the Stranger can reveal, XVII CONVERSION 1821. 1822 PROMPT transformation works the novel Lore; The Council closed, the Priest in full career Rides forth, an armèd man, and hurls a spear To desecrate the Fane which heretofore He served in folly. Woden falls, and Thor Is overturned; the mace, in battle heaved (So might they dream) till victory was achieved, Drops, and the God himself is seen no more. Temple and Altar sink, to hide their shame In the new Rite, the pledge of sanctity, XVIII APOLOGY 1821. 1822 NOR scorn the aid which Fancy oft doth lend The Soul's eternal interests to promote: Death, darkness, danger, are our natural lot; And evil Spirits may our walk attend The midnight stars outshining, or the blaze Of the noon-day. Nor doubt that golden cords Of good works, mingling with the visions, raise The Soul to purer worlds: and who the line |