Sweet pastoral flowers, and laurels that have crowned

Full oft the unworthy brow of lawless force; And, for delight of him who tracks its

course,

Immortal amaranth and palms abound.

II

CONJECTURES

IF there be prophets on whose spirits rest Past things, revealed like future, they can tell

What Powers, presiding o'er the sacred well

Of Christian Faith, this savage Island blessed

With its first bounty. Wandering through the west,

Did holy Paul1 a while in Britain dwell, And call the Fountain forth by miracle, And with dread signs the nascent Stream invest?

Or He, whose bonds dropped off, whose prison doors

Flew open, by an Angel's voice unbarred? Or some of humbler name, to these wild shores

Storm-driven; who, having seen the cup of

woe

Pass from their Master, sojourned here to guard

The precious Current they had taught to flow?

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 suffering, 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.

III

TREPIDATION OF THE DRUIDS

SCREAMS round the Arch-druid's brow the seamew 2-white

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,

1 See Note.

2 This water-fowl was, among the Druids, an emblem of those traditions connected with the Deluge that made an important part of their mysteries. The Cormorant was a bird of bad

omen.

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
Of Time and shadows of Tradition, crost;
And where the boatman of the Western

Isles

Slackens his course-to mark those holy piles

XVIII

APOLOGY

NOR Scorn the aid which Fancy oft doth lend

The Soul's eternal interests to promote: Death, darkness, danger, are our nátural 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?

XX

OTHER INFLUENCES

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

Is chilled by death, does mutual service fail?
Is tender pity then of no avail ?
Are intercessions of the fervent tongue
A waste of hope?-From this sad source
have sprung

Rites that console the Spirit, under grief
Which ill can brook more rational relief:
Hence, prayers are shaped amiss, and dirges
sung

For Souls whose doom is fixed! The way is smooth

For Power that travels with the human heart:
Confession ministers the pang to soothe
In him who at the ghost of guilt doth start.
Ye holy Men, so earnest in your care,
Of your own mighty instruments beware!

XIX

PRIMITIVE SAXON CLERGY 1

How beautiful your presence, how benign, Servants of God! who not a thought will share

With the vain world; who, outwardly as bare

As winter trees, yield no fallacious sign That the firm soul is clothed with fruit divine !

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 Descended:-happy are the eyes that meet The Apparition; evil thoughts are stayed 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.

1 See Note.

XXI

SECLUSION

LANCE, shield, and sword relinquished, at his side

A bead-roll, in his hand a clasped book, Or staff more harmless than a shepherd's crook,

The war-worn Chieftain quits the worldto hide

His thin autumnal locks where Monks abide
In cloistered privacy. But not to dwell
In soft repose he comes: within his cell,
Round the decaying trunk of human pride,
At morn, and eve, and midnight's silent hour,
Do penitential cogitations cling;
Like ivy, round some ancient elm, they
twine

In grisly folds and strictures serpentine;
Yet, while they strangle, a fair growth they
bring,
For recompence ·
bower.

their own perennial

XXII

CONTINUED

METHINKS that to some vacant hermitage My feet would rather turn-to some dry nook