DURING the month of December, 1820, I accompanied a much loved and honoured friend in a walk through different parts of his estate, with a view to fix upon the site of a new church which he intended to erect. It was one of the most beautiful mornings of a mild season,-our feelings were in harmony with the cherishing influences of the scene; and, such being our purpose, we were naturally led to look back upon past events with wonder and gratitude, and on the future with hope. Not long afterwards some of the sonnets which will be found towards the close of this series were produced as a private memorial of that morning's occupation.

The Catholic question, which was agitated in Parliament about that time, kept my thoughts in the same course, and it struck me that certain

points in the ecclesiastical history of the country might advantageously be presented to view in verse. Accordingly I took up the subject, and what I now offer to the reader was the result.

When the work was far advanced, I was agreeably surprised to find that my friend, Mr. Southey, was engaged, with similar views, in writing a concise history of the Church in England. If our productions, thus unintentionally coinciding, shall be found to illustrate each other, it will prove a high gratification to me, which I am sure my friend will participate.

W. WORDSWORTH. Rydal Mount, January 24, 1822.

And call the fountain forth by miracle, And with dread signs the nascent stream invest? [prison doors Or he, whose bonds dropped off, whose Flew open, by an angel's voice unbarred? Or some of humbler name, to these wild shores [woe Storm-driven, who, having seen the cup of Pass from their master, sojourned here to guard [flow? The precious current they had taught to

TREPIDATION OF THE DRUIDS.

seamew-white

SCREAMS round the arch-druid's brow the
[ring
As Menai's foam; and towards the mystic
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 suffering, hear;

Receive the faith, and in the hope abide.

On Snowdon's wilds, amid Brigantian
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
[piles
Slackens his course-to mark those holy
Which yet survive on bleak Iona's coast.

Nor these, nor monuments of eldest fame
Nor Taliesin's unforgotten lays,

Nor characters of Greek or Roman fame, To an unquestionable source have led: Enough-if eyes that sought the fountainhead,

In vain, upon the growing rill may gaze.

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 storehouses afford: Against the followers of the incarnate Lord It rages;-some are smitten in the fieldSome pierced beneath 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 [riset That hill, whose flowery platform seems to By nature decked for holiest sacrifice.

This hill at St. Alban's must have been an object of great interest to the imagination of the venerable Bede, who thus describes it with a delicate feeling delightful to meet with in that rude age, traces of which are frequent in his works:-" Variis herbarum floribus depictus imò usquequaque vestitus, in quo nihil repentè arduum, nihil præceps, nihil abruptum, quem

RECOVERY.

regain

Their cheerfulness, and busily retrim

Their nests, or chant a gratulating hymn
To the blue ether and bespangled plain;
Even so, in many a reconstructed fane,
Have the survivors of this storm renewed
Their holy rites with vocal gratitude:
And solemn ceremonial they ordain
To celebrate their great deliverance;
Most feelingly instructed 'mid their fear,
That persecution, blind with rage extreme,
May not the less, through Heaven's mild
[cheer;
Even in her own despite, both feed and
For all things are less dreadful than they

countenance,

A cherished priestess of the new-baptized! The Pictish cloud darkens the enervate land By Rome abandoned, vain are suppliant cries, [farewell. And prayers that would undo her forced For she returns not.-Awed by her own knell,

She casts he Britons upon strange allies, Soon to become more dreaded enemies Than heartless misery called them to repel

STRUGGLE OF THE BRITONS AGAINST THE BARBARIANS.

RISE!- they have risen: of brave Aneurin

ask

[friends How they have scourged old foes, perfidious The spirit of Caractacus defends

The patriots, animates their glorious 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 hosts 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, [swords, Rush on the fight, to harps preferring And everlasting deeds to burning words!

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 light. Afflicted and dismayed,
The relics of the sword flee to the moun-
tains:
[like fountains;
O wretched land! whose tears have flowed
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,

Alluding to the victory gained under Ger manus. See Bede.

The last six lines of this sonnet are chiefly from the prose of Daniel; and here I will state though to the readers whom this poem will chiefly interest it is unnecessary), that my obli