XXXIV

MUTABILITY

FROM low to high doth dissolution climb, And sink from high to low, along a scale Of awful notes, whose concord shall not fail;

A musical but melancholy chime, Which they can hear who meddle not with crime,

Nor avarice, nor over-anxious care. Truth fails not; but her outward forms that bear

The longest date do melt like frosty rime, That in the morning whitened hill and plain And is no more; drop like the tower sublime

Of yesterday, which royally did wear His crown of weeds, but could not even sustain

Some casual shout that broke the silent air, Or the unimaginable touch of Time.

XXXIII

REGRETS

WOULD that our scrupulous Sires had dared to leave

Less scanty measure of those graceful rites
And usages, whose due return invites
A stir of mind too natural to deceive;
Giving to Memory help when she would

weave

A crown for Hope!-I dread the boasted lights

That all too often are but fiery blights, Killing the bud o'er which in vain we grieve. Go, seek, when Christmas snows discomfort bring,

The counter Spirit found in some gay church

Green with fresh holly, every pew a perch In which the linnet or the thrush might

sing,

Merry and loud and safe from prying search,

Strains offered only to the genial Spring.

1 See Note.

XXXV

OLD ABBEYS

MONASTIC Domes! following my downward way,

Untouched by due regret I marked your fall!

Now, ruin, beauty, ancient stillness, all
Dispose to judgments temperate as we lay
On our past selves in life's declining day:
For as, by discipline of Time made wise,
We learn to tolerate the infirmities
And faults of others-gently as he may,
So with our own the mild Instructor deals,
Teaching us to forget them or forgive.1
Perversely curious, then, for hidden ill
Why should we break Time's charitable
seals?

Once ye were holy, ye are holy still;
Your spirit freely let me drink, and live!

XXXVI

EMIGRANT FRENCH CLERGY

EVEN while I speak, the sacred roofs of France

Are shattered into dust; and self-exiled

1 See Note.