FROM THE INTRODUCTION OF CHRISTIANITY INTO BRITAIN, TO THE CONSUMMATION
OF THE PAPAL DOMINION.

"A verse may catch a wandering Soul, that flies
Profounder Tracts, and by a blest surprise
Convert delight into a Sacrifice."

As Menai's foam; and toward the mystic ring
Where Augurs stand, the Future questioning,
Slowly the cormorant aims her heavy flight,
Portending ruin to each baleful rite
That, in the lapse of ages, hath crept o'er
Diluvian truths, and patriarchal lore.
Haughty the Bard: can these meek doctrines
blight

His transports? wither his heroic strains?
But all shall be fulfilled;-the Julian spear
A way first opened; and, with Roman chains,
The tidings come of Jesus crucified;
They come-they spread-the weak, the suffer-
ing, hear;
Receive the faith, and in the hope abide.

IV.

DRUIDICAL EXCOMMUNICATION.
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!
Yet shall it claim our reverence, that to God,
Ancient of days! that to the eternal Sire,
These jealous Ministers of law aspire,
As to the one sole fount whence wisdom flowed,
Justice, and order. Tremblingly escaped
As if with prescience of the coming storm,
That intimation when the stars were shaped;
And still, 'mid yon thick woods, the primal truth
Glimmers through many a superstitious form
That fills the Soul with unavailing ruth.

V.
UNCERTAINTY.

DARKNESS Surrounds us: seeking, we are lost
On Snowdon's wilds, amid Brigantian coves,
Or where the solitary shepherd roves
Along the plain of Sarum, by the ghost
deluge that made an important part of their
mysteries. The Cormorant was a bird of bad
omen.

POEMS OF THE IMAGINATION.

Of Time and shadows of Tradition, crost;
And where the boatman of the Western Isles
Slackens his course-to mark those holy piles
Which yet survive on bleak Iona's coast.
Nor these, nor monuments of eldest name,
Nor Taliesin's unforgotten lays,
Nor characters of Greek or Roman fame,
To an unquestionable Source have led ;
Enough-if eyes, that sought the fountain-head
In vain, upon the growing Rill may gaze.

VI.

PERSECUTION.

LAMENT! for Diocletian's fiery sword
Works busy as the lightning; but instinct
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 ineffec-
tual 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.

TEMPTATIONS FROM ROMAN REFINEMENTS.

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,
Their radiance through the woods-may yet
suffice

To sap your hardy virtue, and abate

Your love of him upon whose forehead sate
The crown of thorns; whose life-blood flowed,
the price

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
And instruments of deadliest servitude!

IX.
DISSENSIONS.

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,
But chastisement shall follow peace despised.
A cherished Priestess of the new-baptized!
The Pictish cloud darkens the enervate land
By Rome abandoned; vain are suppliant cries,
And prayers that would undo her forced fare-
well;

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.
X.

STRUGGLE OF THE BRITONS AGAINST THE
BARBARIANS.

RISE!-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

moss

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!

XI.

SAXON CONQUEST.
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 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.

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 song of Taliesin ;-Ours shall mourn

turn

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. swerve

Mark how all things| Safe from the wintry tempest. Fluttering,
Here did it enter; there, on hasty wing,
Flies out, and passes on from cold to cold;
But whence it came we know not, nor behold
Whither it goes. Even such, that transient
Thing,

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!

XIII.

CASUAL INCITEMENT.

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;
DE-IRIANS he would save them from God's
IRE;

Subjects of Saxon ELLA-they shall sing
Glad HALLE-lujahs to the eternal King!

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 appal
And strike with reverence. The Monarch leans
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!

The human Soul; not utterly unknown
While in the Body lodged, her warm abode;
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,
His be a welcome cordially bestowed!'

XVII.
CONVERSION.

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
Amid oblivious weeds. "O come to me,
Ye heavy laden!' such the inviting voice
Heard near fresh streams; and thousands, who
rejoice

In the new Rite-the pledge of sanctity,

Shall, by regenerate life, the promise claim.

XVIII.

APOLOGY.

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
For aught the wisest know or comprehend;
Then be good Spirits free to breathe a note
Of elevation; let their odours float
Around these Converts; and their glories blend,
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
Shall draw, the limits of the power define,
That even imperfect faith to man affords?

ΧΙΧ.

PRIMITIVE SAXON CLERGY.

How beautiful your presence, how benign,
Servants of God! who not a thought will share
With the vain world; who, outwardly as bare
That the firm soul is clothed with fruit divine!
As winter trees, yield no fallacious sign
Such Priest, when service worthy of his care
Has called him forth to breathe the common air,
Might seem a saintly Image from its shrine
The Apparition; evil thoughts are stayed
Descended:-happy are the eyes that meet
At his approach, and low-bowed necks entreat
A benediction from his voice or hand;
Whence grace, through which the heart can
understand,

And vows, that bind the will, in silence made.

XX.

OTHER INFLUENCES.

Ан, when the Body, round which in love we clung,

Is chilled by death, does mutual service fail?

LANCE, shield, and sword relinquished-at his Flow to the poor, and freedom to the slave;