THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES
 
 5e ni i ma,^^^ a^ ^"^^ n^t^J 
 
 r//7frj?j Jfint M ^J(fd5
 
 C|t ^rainniai- ^tljools of Britain : 
 
 A POEM, 
 
 IN THREE CANTOS. 
 
 BY 
 
 THE REV. S. DORIA 
 
 HEAD MASTER 
 
 OF THE 
 
 GEAI\nUR SCHOOL, WIOAN, 
 
 AUTHOR OF " THE SUXDAT SCHOOL," " EXPOSITIOX OF THE CHURCH 
 CATECHISM,'' "compendium OF ANCIENT GEOGRAPHT," &C. &C 
 
 LONDON: 
 E. Marlborough axd Co., Ate Maria Lane; 
 Cambridge: Macmillan and Co.; Liverpool: A. Newlino; 
 Manchester: J.Pratt; Wigax: D.Thomas. 
 
 AND mat be obtained FROM ALL BOOKSELLEKS.
 
 WIG AN: 
 
 PRINTED EY D. THOMAS, MARKF.T-ri,ACE.
 
 
 ^ 
 
 TO THE MASTERS, 
 
 PROFESSORS, AND OTHER GENTLEMEN, 
 
 WHOSE 
 
 BEST TALENTS AND LABOURS 
 
 BOTH AT THE UNIVERSITIES AND GRAMMAR SCHOOLS 
 
 ARE DEVOTED 
 
 TO THE SERVICE OF THEIR COUNTRY, 
 
 THIS LITTLE POEM IS MOST 
 
 RESPECTFULLY DEDICATED BY 
 
 THE AUTHOlt. 
 
 9i:7936
 
 THE PREFACE. 
 
 The old proverb, quot homines, tot sententicB, is so singularly 
 applicable to tbe expansiveness of tbe subject, on which the 
 Author has ventured, that provided he shall be found to have 
 steered his frail verse clear of the Scylla of Geneva, and the 
 Charybdis of Eome, he trusts that even public opinion will not 
 gainsay its adaptation to this case. 
 
 The nature, moreover, of the subject is such as to interest 
 deeply the community, and especially that portion of it, whose 
 province it is to rear in the principles of vital Christianity a gene- 
 ration that shall freely serve its God, and thus be best prepared 
 to promote the well-being of its country. Hence to the general 
 reader au apology is due from the Author, should he seem to 
 have ari'ogated to the profession, to which it is his privilege to 
 belong, more than a fair share of the success of its Christian 
 mission. Such, however, is not the case, for the author is 
 well aware that there is no mind so weak in this community, 
 that cannot do even very much towards educating the character 
 of the young, so that the glory of God shall be the paramount 
 object of all its thoughts, and words, and deeds. And if to the
 
 general reader, in a much higher degree is a still more ample 
 apology due to his professional superiors and brethren, for 
 attempting to confine so large a subject within such narrow 
 limits, necessarily, therefore, leaving untouched very much that 
 might, perhaps that ought to have been introduced, inasmuch as 
 one single Grammar School, not to mention a University, would 
 afford a copious subject for far more gifted powers of imagina- 
 tion than are here displayed. In apologising, moreover, botli 
 to the one and the other for the weak style in which so nervous 
 a subject is clothed, the Author would be understood to depre- 
 cate the severity of their criticism by throwing himself upon 
 their indulgence shewn to his former productions, which have 
 not warranted, but perhaps induced him to hope that the same 
 kind welcome may also be extended to this present one. 
 
 Should the view, which has been taken of the whole 
 subject, be deemed of too decided a character in making the 
 Protestantism of vital Christianity tbe corner-stone of his 
 building, the Author, in all humble but respectful truthfulness, 
 must express his belief that the Founders of all our noblo 
 Universities and Grammar Schools before the time of the 
 Keformation had but one object at heart, viz. : That these 
 Institutions should be equally the safeguards of the Crown, as 
 the nurseries for supplying good and able men to the service 
 of the Church and State. With regard to those glorious 
 Grammar Schools that sprung into existence at and after the
 
 111. 
 
 time of the Reformation, the Author assuredly believes it was 
 the one intention of their several Founders, that in all of 
 them should especially be inculcated, without any reserve, 
 this principle — that the teaching of the Romish Church is 
 utterly incompatible with the teaching of the Anglican 
 Protestant Church, which acknowledges, in all its length 
 and depth and breadth, the full, plenary, and unsearchable 
 riches of the glorious liberty of the kingdom of Christ. 
 
 The Author trusts that he will be found to have taken no 
 greater liberty with the history of his subject than its 
 generous spirit might warrant ; and, being deeply anxious that 
 this Preface should end in the same kindliness of general 
 regard in which it commenced, he would respectfully remind 
 his readers of the comprehensiveness of the adage he 
 adopted as bis motto at the beginning. 
 
 Gpnnmur School, Witjan.
 
 CAMO 1. 
 
 Hail, Holy Spirit, of our Britain's isle ! 
 
 That erst oil Juda's strand so lov'd to smile. 
 
 E'en at that need, when thy di-ead Godhead ^A^roug•ht 
 
 Its mightiest wonders, with redemption fraught, 
 
 And gav'st in awfid grandem- 'midst the wave — 
 
 Safety to thine, to Egj^t's host a grave ; —   
 
 From that lone horn*, when in thy promise made 
 
 By Jacob's dying lips, tlii'ough faith who laid 
 
 The hand of promise on his grandson's head. 
 
 The last-born Eplu'aim, sought the mighty dead 
 
 Of bmied fathers, and dispell'd the gloom 
 
 Of hopeless fear, that brooded o'er the tomb. — 
 
 From that same horn* thy holiest, fondest love, 
 
 With more than mother's care for nestling dove, 
 
 Watch'd o'er the cradled Joshua's infant form, 
 
 Eear'd him a giant 'gainst th' impending storm ; 
 
 Stamp'd on his noble brow his God's behest. 
 
 And clos'd his long career in endless rest. 
 
 Nor did thy cherish'd love for e'er defile 
 
 Its virgin promise, made despite of giiile ; 
 
 Tlu'ough foidest treason, mui'der's guilty brand. 
 
 It sigh'd when driv'n from the baneful land,
 
 11 
 
 Still o'er its people hover'd like a di-eam, 
 
 Amidst Assyiian chains by Gozan's stream ; 
 
 There, thi-oiigh a lengthen'd coiu-se of toil and pain, 
 
 It school'd her Israel's sons for fiitiu-e reign, 
 
 Kept them aloof amid the din of arms, 
 
 While Greece and Rome by turns the world alarms ; — 
 
 Still cheering onwards, as the horn- drew nigh 
 
 Of Israel's blessing promis'd from on high, 
 
 Taught them thro' faith a new redemption giv'n 
 
 By God's own Son, restor'd from death to Heav'n, 
 
 Lannch'd on the waves, that lash her Britain's strand, 
 
 And caird them Saxons on their nati\'e land. 
 
 II. 
 
 'Twas even so : — The Spirit's llame, 
 Smoidd'ring awhile without a name, 
 Again blaz'd forth in holy pride. 
 As bridal maiden by the side 
 Of liim, her first, her chosen love. 
 
 With statelier step and finner tread, 
 And closer bound by vows above. 
 
 Yet feels and owns her nobler head ; — 
 E'en thus lov'd Britain in her glow 
 
 Of virgin pow'r, she lov'd and fear'tl, 
 Chose for her own, to ward the blow
 
 12 
 
 Of Dauisli idols wild and wit-rd, 
 A prince of spotless, matcMess wortli, 
 With brow that stamps the regal birth, 
 By Israel bless'd through Joshua's blood. 
 Daring alike to stem the flood 
 Of madden'd spite, and reckless guile ; — 
 Mdd too, as woman's holiest smile 
 
 Amid her holiest tears ; — 
 Thus bless'd in love by earth and heav'n 
 In mutual vows for ever giv'n — 
 
 Britain no danger fears : — 
 Thenceforth with nobler gait and mien 
 She walk'd a Bridal Ocean-Queen, 
 
 With Alfred at her side ; — 
 From Cornwall's shore to boldest lea 
 Of Cambria's, to Northmnbria's sea, 
 
 All own'd with honest pride. 
 That ne'er before that golden reign 
 Such peace and pleiity could regain 
 
 God's mercies thrown aside ; — 
 AH idols bow'd before the God 
 Of Alfred's path, that Britain trod 
 
 In silent holy fear ; — 
 God's glory was their only aim. 
 The first, the last, yet still the same. 
 
 E'en to his hallow'd bier.
 
 iir. 
 
 It i's no fable icUy told 
 Of Kings, whose \artue, like the gold 
 WTiich sparkles purer ft-om the fii-e, 
 Long tried by danger soars the higher, 
 That when such die, all nature mourns, 
 
 As though her life's blood ceas'd to flow, 
 And in her wildest mountaiu-boums 
 
 She seems in deepest grief to go : — 
 And when thus nature mourns the dead, 
 
 And the lov'd bird of poet's song 
 On Isis' sedgy bank is said 
 
 Its dirgelike numbers to prolong. 
 And fondly still repeat its tale 
 Each mom and night adown the vale. 
 Where Oxford 'midst her clust'ring bow'rs 
 In simple grandeiu- rears her tow'rs. 
 For thousand ages yet to come 
 Her Alfred's dear mousoleum ; — 
 Shall she his bride of early love, 
 His Britain, ever heedless prove 
 Of all his care and toil and pain, 
 That his lov'd children ne'er again, 
 Through ignorance of God's own word. 
 On England's shores shoidd bend the knee,
 
 14. 
 
 Where Gospel-liberty is heard, 
 
 'Mid Odin's foul idolatry? — 
 It cannot be ;— tlie God who gave ' 
 To Alfred's love a peaceful grave, 
 
 And bless'd bis Christian reign. 
 His blessing giv'n will fulfil. 
 E'en tbrougb much trying need, until 
 
 His word shall sure remain : — 
 Por ne'er stall Britain 'midst her woe— 
 Her fondest, earliest, vow forego ; — 
 So deeply graven are the tears 
 Upon the shrine a nation rears. 
 
 IV. 
 
 Inspir'd by heav'n, the fleeting soul. 
 
 When on the confines of the grave, 
 About to pass from man's control 
 
 Back to its God, his life who gave 
 E'en to himself, in human mould 
 When born to death, by traitors sold. 
 Can, at that hour, when, fades the eye, 
 See somewhat of futurity ; — 
 Can see, 'tis said, and know, and tell. 
 If falt'ring tongue can then declare, 
 What good, or evil, heav'n, or hell,
 
 15 
 
 Is waiting those that sorrow there ; — 
 Oh, if 'tis tiiie, — what haiTOwing care 
 Did England's mighty Alfred share 
 
 For England's fiitm-e woe ? — 
 Grief such as he alone could feel, 
 When dying, that his coimtry's weal 
 
 Shoidd meet its heaviest blow 
 E'en from that hand itself had fed. 
 And arm'd against the holy dead. 
 But who his rapture shall unfold, 
 
 As down the page of England's gloiy 
 His mind in prophecy foretold, 
 
 A time should be in England's story, 
 When o'er the world at peace the while 
 A Queen of Victoiy shoidd smile 
 
 Descended from his blood. 
 Should 'midst her people great and fi-ee 
 Her Albert and her Alfred see 
 
 To stem th' imrighteous flood ? — 
 And does there live, who would the tears 
 Of a whole people's love thi-ough years 
 Still mock with scom, and still deride, 
 As drifts the fashion of the tide. 
 Those glorious bulwarks of her crown. 
 So dearly rescued from the frown 
 Of superstitions wildest spell,
 
 16 
 
 That baffles e'en tlie infidel ?— 
 And is there traitor, that will dare, 
 Who freely breathes a British air, 
 Has drain'd a British mother's breast, 
 By British mother lull'd to rest, 
 To seek the downfal of that pile, 
 Rear'd by a British Alfred's smile ? 
 That glorious pile of England's page. 
 Her safeguard amidst stomi and rage. 
 Where freely 'midst the cloister'd tow'rs 
 Of his lov'd Oxford's peaceful bow'rs 
 Learning in safety might address, 
 And contemplate God's holiness ; — 
 There teach his Britain's sons, no more 
 
 To bear the yoke of heathen pride, 
 Thence send them school'd in Christian lore. 
 
 O'er his own Senate to pi-eside ; 
 That thus his Oxford might e'er be 
 A blessing to posterity. 
 
 V. 
 
 The blood of Arab courser fires 
 The courage of Ms progeny ; — 
 
 No eagle's eyrie-nest desires 
 The dove to stain its purity ; —
 
 17 
 
 Like as the sire, so the son 
 To generations e'er will run, 
 If mother's training fondly prove 
 But faitliful to her infant's love ; — 
 So trutliful is the Scripture page. 
 Denouncing wrath on every age, 
 That faithless to its bridal vow 
 Contaminates its blood below. — 
 Then need we wonder, if we see 
 The love of Alfi'ed, piu'e as free 
 
 For his dear country's weal, 
 In his son Edward thus inspir'd 
 By holy fame, and heaven fir'd. 
 
 The truth of Scriptm-e seal ? — 
 And as the Poets fondly trace 
 Their Diomed through his sire's race ; — 
 So on thy banks and flow 'ry meads, 
 Time-honour'd Camus, that thy reeds 
 Might ever chamit thy Alfred's dirge, 
 Borne by the gales across thy surge, 
 Did his lov'd Son his Father's pray'r 
 Fulfil, and raise a temple fair. 
 Where pure religion might be fi-ee, 
 Free as his Britain's liberty ; — 
 "VNTiere noble tow'rs and schools might train 
 His Britain's sons for wider reign ; — 
 
 B
 
 18 
 
 Willi Oxford's banners tlftis unfiii-rd 
 
 Might bear God's tratli throughout tlic worUT ,-- 
 
 That each, so passing fair, might prove 
 
 From what pm-e som-ce they drew their love ; — 
 
 As Sisters, nm-tur'd by one sire, 
 
 Fondle with mutual love's desire 
 
 Their babes, and light their Father's fae :— 
 
 Thus train'd, thus cherish'd, thus betroth'd, 
 
 Proudly, but nobly, have they shew'd 
 
 Their sons, whence freedom springs ; — 
 Yes, Granta, dearest Mother mine, 
 Right foitlifidly thy glories sliine, 
 
 The Avorld thy virtue sings ; — 
 So sweetly pure, so piu-ely true. 
 Glows the life's blood, that mantles you. 
 
 VI. 
 
 Would that my gratefid pen coidd trace 
 How in the com-se of learning's race 
 Thou, Granta, gloriously hast riv'n 
 Those direful fetters Rome had striv'n 
 Round beauteous science fast to tie 
 By torturing rack, and infamy : — 
 How through long seras thou hast train'd 
 Thy sons to brave Rome's altars, stain'd
 
 19 
 
 With pure religion's blood ; 
 And as each martjT'd Son expii-'d, 
 Another rose, by thee inspir'd 
 
 To brave th' unhallow'd flood : — 
 Thus with that Jewish mother's breath, 
 "V\Tio taught her sons to spmn the death 
 A tja-ant order'd, and then gave 
 Herself her countiy's law to save, — 
 Thou, on that shrine, thy Edward rear'd, 
 And Hemy's charter nobly cheer'd, 
 Freely to show the Gospel's might. 
 And biing his people to its Hght, 
 With pious care hast fed thy youth 
 From the life-giving soiu'ce of tnith : — 
 Like that fond bird by nature taught 
 
 From its own blood to feed its yomig. 
 That thus with self oblation fraught 
 
 Self-love might cease its vaimting tongiic, 
 And human pride might learn to bow 
 Submissive to God's wiU below. — 
 
 God ! I seem to hear e'en now, 
 Though years have sorely mark'd my broAv, 
 Thy gentle warnings, Granta dear, 
 Strike fi'esh across my list'ning ear, 
 And pointing upwards to the skies
 
 20 
 
 Still chide my wayAvarclness of tliought, 
 Still aid by teaching to uprise 
 
 By all the means, fair science brought 
 
 To man, with Chiist's redemption fraught ;- 
 Mother, I may not teU. my grief 
 
 To the cold world, it heeds not me ; — 
 Thou know'st my secret soul's belief, 
 
 Thou know'st how true it clings to thee ; — 
 And whilst that God, Avho made thee free, 
 
 Still sheds his grace upon thy head, 
 So let thy love thou gav'st to me. 
 
 Be on my children's children shed. 
 
 VII. 
 
 O 'twas no vain, no idle pray'r 
 That pass'd unheeded through the air, 
 In that his last and solemn hour, 
 When in the prsescience of his pow'r 
 
 On death-bed Alfred lay ; — 
 Deep as the deepest ocean-wave. 
 That rocks the shroud of seaman's grave. 
 His soul had poiu-'d its patriot zeal 
 In throbbing accents for the weal 
 
 Of Britain's Christian ray ; —
 
 21 
 
 Thougli still the pray'r, and small the voice, 
 
 Thy caves, sweet Salop, caught its thiiU ; 
 Loud and more loud, its happy choice, 
 
 From Isis bank to Wrekin's hiU, 
 Echo, e'er faitliful to the cause 
 Of nature's God and nature's laws, 
 Wafted across the rippling wave, 
 Of Avon's bank to Haumond's cave, 
 The pray'r of dying King to save 
 
 From Lethe's darkling stream ; 
 The wakeful Naids of thy vale. 
 Sweet Severn, stay'd the passing gale. 
 Bade it repeat its holy tale. 
 
 E'en as a mornings dream ; — 
 Then swift as skims the wild sea-mew 
 Adown the stoma, when fi-om the view 
 
 The surge has swept the sky ; 
 Or when, through iiarmony of thought. 
 The mutual love of soids has caught 
 
 One glance of beaming eye ; — 
 With swifter tho' not holier care 
 Did the fond nymphs the echo bear 
 Adown their Severn's rippling tide. 
 When in majestic awe preside 
 Those noble halls of Pengwem's pride, 
 
 St. Alkmund's blessed shrine ; —
 
 22 
 
 There cradled 'midst the gentlest love, 
 Of nursing Queen's prophetic lore, 
 
 Fair science, beaming from above 
 On Edgar pour'd her richest store, 
 And bade him heed her babe the more. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 What, tho' gTey time refus'd to save 
 
 The Saxon arch and architrave, 
 
 St. Alkmmid's sluine stiU felt the glow 
 
 Of duty's caU to sacred vow, 
 
 That Edgar in his hope and pow'r 
 
 Had made in that tlmce-blessed hour. 
 
 That Alkmu^nd's cloister'd tow'rs should be 
 
 A school to an posterity ; — 
 
 A refrigc from th' impending storm. 
 
 That scowling tlu'eaten'd every fonn 
 
 Of pm*e religion's libei-ty ; — 
 And what, though Koman Pontifl" chang'd 
 
 The very site of Alkmund's shrine, 
 And madly o'er the ruins rang'd, 
 
 Vaunting to crush the sold divine ; — 
 Idle the vaunt, and vain the rage, 
 Like the chaf d liou in his cage, 
 
 That madlv bites his chain ;
 
 23 
 
 In those pro\ul tow'rs of Edgar's pray'r, 
 Foster (I by more than mother's care, 
 
 St. Alkmund lives again -. — 
 No Hydra e'en of mythic lore, 
 Rose bolder 'gainst the iron pow'r 
 
 Of Alceus' mighty son, 
 Than e'er from under E-omish ride 
 St. Alkmu-iid's chm'ch and noble school 
 
 The Royal Edward won ; — • 
 Thus foster'd by the royal love 
 Of Briton's throne, it lives to prove 
 How pure and sound can learning be, 
 WTien, by religion founded fi-ee, 
 It dares to spurn idolatiy. 
 Hence like the beacon-fire that glar'd 
 Erom Wrekin's hiE, when Spaniard dar'd 
 
 To vaunt with angry mien. 
 Glaring, it told the threats of Rome 
 Through Severn's vale 'gainst Britain's home, 
 
 Her Bible and her Queen : — 
 Such fire then lighted biu'ns as clear 
 In Edgar's school, as neither fear 
 Nor guile of Jesuit priesthood's lie 
 Will dare its purpose to defy, 
 Or undermine with sophistry.
 
 24 
 IX. 
 
 O might I revel in tlie pow'r 
 Of painter's skill, though for an hour, 
 How should the canvass glow with thee. 
 My school, that nurs'd me to be free 
 In the same Gospel's liberty : — 
 But no, — I may not ; — then do thou 
 
 Sweet limner, fir'd from heav'n above. 
 It boldly sketch, as living now, 
 
 Our native oak, our Britain's love ; 
 And fondly in her virgin pride 
 Let bridal Ivy grace its side. 
 But mark, how tnithfid is the soiu-ce 
 Wlience springs its beauty, whence the force 
 Of all its majesty, below 
 Deep seated bravely does it show 
 Faith, the main-root by which it feeds 
 Its tender rootlets, whence it leads 
 By nature's law, th' adapted food 
 To aU its branches, sound and good ; — 
 Next mark, how beauteously grand 
 Eises its stem from out the land ; — 
 Well may the poet call that stem. 
 
 So iinnly rooted in its faith. 
 Its very Hope, tliat priceless gem.
 
 25 
 
 That renders vile all else beneath ; — 
 Whence in clue season it wiU spread 
 A blessed shade for wearied head : — 
 But who God's bounty may declare 
 When sun and rain's appointed share 
 Has freely to the oak ordain'd, 
 Tlu-ough changeful seasons fondly train'd 
 That in each Autumn it supply 
 An endless crop of Charity ? 
 And canst thou number all its fruit 
 Pood once of Briton, now of bnite ? — 
 Then down the page of Britain's rule 
 Go seek the glories of this school ; — 
 I dare not from those honour'd names 
 Cidl here or there, when each one claims 
 The incense of om- gratefid strain, 
 For blessings ever to remain 
 The epitaph they strove to gain. . ; 
 
 X. 
 
 Years have roU'd past, yet oft I ^e 
 W'ith mem'i-y's eye the old ash tree, 
 O'ershadowing with outspread bough 
 Those courts that teem'd with life below, 
 Where oft, despite of Ovid's call,
 
 26 
 
 I lov'd to drive the bounding ball : — 
 
 And still those tow'rs, and noble schools. 
 
 That chapel's court, those golden rides, 
 
 Crowd fresh and thick o'er fancy's pow'r, 
 
 That, dreaming of my boyhood's hoiu', 
 
 I seem to lose the thoughts of age. 
 
 Still seem to revel on the stage 
 
 Of schoolboy's love, and schoolboy's rage. — 
 
 Oft too at stilly hour of eve, 
 
 When pride and pomp and love receive 
 
 Some silent warning, that the prime 
 
 Of all is passing, when the time 
 
 Brings back a communing of soul 
 
 With those who rear'd it what it is, 
 Who seem our actions to control, 
 
 And lead them on to futiu'c bliss. — 
 Then who will e'er forget that name 
 
 Beatified in mem'ry's shrine, 
 That eye which could oppression tame, 
 
 Inspii-e its youth with fire divine, 
 And, cheering onwards up to heav'n, 
 Teach, Venice their country's pride was giv'n?- 
 O'cr the sick bed thy hand would rule 
 
 With more than gentleness of love ; — 
 The same calm broAv within thy school 
 
 Told whence it drew its aid — above,
 
 S7 
 
 Though stamp' d with all that Greece ov Home 
 Could offer on an altar's home: — 
 And who would dare the love control 
 
 Of those who in thy learning bask'd ? — 
 One might as vairdy bid the soul 
 
 Go seU the freedom it had task'd 
 Its human powers to win, or die 
 WTiUe seeking immortality. — 
 O could our grateful pray'r yet bring, 
 
 Tby shades, lov'd Butler, from thy bow'rs 
 What hymns each morning would we sing 
 To paciiy these soids of ours ; — 
 But no ; — thy praise wiU ever be 
 The pride of Britain's history. 
 
 XI. 
 
 Is it a dream, by poets feign'd, 
 That where their dying hero stain'd 
 The herbage with his patriot-blood. 
 That from that tm-f, whereon he stood 
 And fought and fell, thence wiU arise 
 Wafting soft fragrance to the skies. 
 Some new, some beauteous flow'r to tell 
 In silent language, where he fell. 
 In whispers to each tell-tale breeze.
 
 28 
 
 Where sleeps a kindred spii'it's fame, 
 That the lone flow'r beneath yon trees 
 
 Will one day kindle mem'ry's flame, 
 And thus recall the hero's name ? — 
 Can this be fancy ? — No — the soid 
 That feels its God, thi-ough Chi-ist, control 
 The passions of its mortal mould, 
 WUl, as it breaks each mortal fold 
 
 Enveloping its heav'nward flight. 
 Still love its country, though too cold 
 
 To be rekindled by its light ; — 
 Still strive in vu-gin love to giiard, 
 
 A native star, its counti-y's weal, — 
 Stdl train its children to retard 
 
 Those sins, preventing heav'n to seal 
 
 With grace the faith it would reveal. — 
 And what, though flow'r shoidd not be there 
 To meet Spring's song-birds in the air ? — 
 What, though the hero's bones may rest 
 In 'scutcheon'd marble o'er his breast. 
 Will grateful echo less awake 
 The spirit-stirring pray'r, and break 
 No silence of the peacefid dead ? 
 Where pil'd cathedral rears its head 
 And tow'ring dome, and cloister'd aisles 
 Kise georgeous, whence her Alfred smilf«s
 
 29 
 
 E'en from his grave, aud seems to bless 
 Those schools that from his ashes spring, 
 
 That Winchester might thus address, 
 And teach its country's youth to sing 
 
 The fi'eedom of religion's pow'r, 
 
 Which Britain o'er the world might show'r. 
 
 XII. 
 
 Where in this modem world of ours 
 Shall the crush' d spirit seek those pow'rs 
 To call its people to the thought 
 That life without a God is naught, 
 Worse, worse than naught, a veiy flame 
 That flickers, dies without a name. 
 Worthless throughout, and still the same ? 
 "VMience shall the spirit wing its flight 
 Through clouds, that seein to gather might 
 From German schoolmen's mystic waves, 
 From Gaul, where scepticism raves ? 
 From every wind, fr'om eveiy world, 
 "VYTiere treason, fi-om its slime imcurl'd. 
 Crawls its long length in eye of heav'n, 
 And dares what cannot be forgiv'n ? 
 O where then can the spirit try 
 To soar above expediency ? —
 
 30 
 
 It was not thus thy patriot zeal 
 
 Bade thee, proud Athens, to reveal. 
 
 At one man's bidding, all the glow 
 
 Of sacred virtue, and forego 
 
 The prize, that would thy pow'r set high 
 
 O'er Sparta's boasted rivalry ; — 
 
 But no ; — expediency blush'd 
 
 And quail'd at virtue, and was hush'd, — 
 
 — Vers'd in such classic lore, sublim'd 
 
 By God's own wiU reveal' d, that shin'd 
 
 Pure-ray'd and clear across the gloom 
 
 That darkly mystified the tomb, 
 
 And gave to the aspiring soid, 
 
 That souo-ht from heav'n some arm to save 
 Free grace to aid, free will to roll 
 
 Its future hope beyond the grave : — 
 Thus taught, thus skiU'd in wisdom's school. 
 Thy youth has Icarn'd its pow'rs to nde 
 
 Chastis'd by holy fear : 
 Hence, Winchester, thy country oAves 
 To noble Wykeham, aU that glows 
 
 Prom out his haUow'd bier. 
 
 XIII. 
 
 What ! is the pale of England's Chmx-h 
 So narrow' (1, thai one fain must search
 
 31 
 
 Tlu'ough the old archives of Rome's creed 
 
 And pare down faith fi'om Gospel's need 
 
 To the dread breadth and depth and length 
 
 Of Eome's cold canons ? — This the strength 
 
 Of Jds piu'e teaching, whom the breeze 
 
 Off heathen Britain's stormy seas 
 
 Bade to its people's pray'rs to bring 
 
 Some aid to quench death's bitter sting, 
 
 "VMio butcher'd midst Rome's prondest show 
 
 Wam'd Cluistian Chiu'ches of the woe 
 
 That Babel throngh the world might show ? 
 
 This were indeed the nde to tread 
 
 Of fabled Procrnstean bed : — 
 
 And then is Britain ask'd whence she 
 
 Draws Christ's religions liberty ? 
 
 — Go, seek it from the earliest age, 
 
 — Go, seek it in the Bible's page 
 
 Of God's own Chiu-ch ; — before the Word 
 
 Of God reveal'd to man was heard, 
 
 Teaching a world then nnforgiv'n, 
 
 How easy was the path to heav'n. — 
 
 Thus to enquiring so\ds declare 
 
 These are the records free and fair. 
 
 Where Britain's Church her teaching draws. 
 
 Her faith, her doctrine and her laws. — 
 
 , Then say not Roman Pontiff gave
 
 32 
 
 Religion's blessing to tliis land, 
 Say not, Augiistine o'er the wave 
 
 Brought Cluistian vii-tues in his hand ; — 
 No, — for these happy isles had knelt 
 In Christian Church, its gTaces felt 
 For eras e'er Rome's chiu-ch had sold 
 Tier chastity for tliis world's gold. 
 Thence was that earliest faith confinn'd, 
 And lighted at that source, it burn'd 
 Holy and pure, — hence taught its tale 
 To Britain's sons o'er hill and vale, 
 And bade lov'd Erin's church be free 
 From all her foul idolatiy. — 
 Thus Britain and lov'd Erin trace 
 Their best traditions from the face 
 Of Scriptm-e's page, and Scripture's grace : — 
 Nor was it, till fair science fled 
 Her Britain's strand, that nature dead 
 To pure religion's call became 
 The slave of Roman oriflamme. — 
 Founded on this broad Scriptm-e-tmth 
 Britain had early taught her youth 
 To scan man's faith in Christ proclaim'd 
 The Saviour of a world, he deign'd 
 To seek and save, not by a rule 
 That should constrain each Christian school
 
 33 
 
 To draw a limit round Christ's love, 
 And stay salvation from above ; — 
 No ; — she had taught that God's free gi-ace 
 Could largest faith of man embrace, 
 
 Yet not exclude the least ; 
 Hence crowded tho' her com-ts may be, 
 Still is there room for every knee. 
 
 At Christ's thrice blessed feast. 
 
 XIV. 
 
 Such was the teaching Britain gave, 
 Whene'er of troublous times the wave. 
 Baffling Rome's pow'r and priesthood's sway. 
 From Britain call'd to other prey. 
 — 'Twas at such hour, thy mighty shade, 
 Lov'd Alfr-ed, sought the peaceful glade 
 
 Of msdom's stately tow'rs. 
 And gazing on each fairy ring, 
 Hover'd o'er bed of Britain's King 
 
 Through night's lone silent hours ; — 
 
 Urg'd him in duteous love to raise 
 
 For his lov'd countrj^'s glorious praise 
 
 Some holy pile, where Britain's youth 
 
 Might leam the holy bond of tiiith 
 
 From the pure Gospel's sacred page, 
 c
 
 34 
 
 That fades not, swerves not with the age : — 
 Hence down thy stream, 'mid flow'ry dales, 
 Okl Thames, thy Henry's gloiy sails 
 On the soft prattle of thy wave, 
 And tells whence Eton's schools can save 
 Her country, e'en tho' treason rave : — 
 Thus, Eton, while she owns thy care. 
 And while she bids thee fondly share 
 
 Her virtues, leading youth to heav'n, 
 Thy country with a mother's love, 
 Thy Henry's holy shade above 
 
 Watch o'er the treasure to thee giv'n:^ 
 Though in the spirit of that throne 
 
 And in its sunshine thou hast bask'd. 
 Thou nought but gentleness hast shown. 
 
 Though oft thy honor has been task'd. 
 Nobly thou'st dared, what thou hast felt 
 
 Was due to thy God-honour'd seat. 
 And 'midst those triumphs Kings have dealt. 
 
 Grateful hast cherish'd thy Waynfleete. — 
 God speed thee, Eton, thy fair name 
 
 AU seas, all distant lands will bless, 
 EeHgion to late ages' fame 
 
 Will surely laud thy blessedness. — 
 To thee, the Church of Britain trusts
 
 35 
 
 Its surest, safest, proudest faith, 
 To thee, amidst portentous bursts 
 
 Of infidels, thy country saith, 
 " Eton, to thee each mother gives 
 
 " The pledge of all its holy love, — 
 " Her fearful vengeance ever lives 
 
 " To plead at God's dread throne above." 
 
 XV. 
 
 How horrible the thought in death 
 
 Annihilation to descry, 
 To think, that scarce shall fail the breath. 
 
 The worms in foulest revelry 
 Shall o'er the soul their gambols play, 
 And feast, — there crawUng end their day, 
 
 Aye, — on the soul's himianity. — 
 And can there live, and feel, and say. 
 When heav'n and earth, shall pass away, 
 
 That none gain immortality ? — 
 O God ! from such imhaUow'd thought, 
 Let thy sole grace, with mercy fraught. 
 Guard aU our country's rising youth. 
 And make them see and know this truth,— 
 That all, thank God, shall die and see
 
 36 
 
 Another world's eternity ; — 
 
 But whether weal or woe shall be 
 
 The sentence, that shall set us free 
 
 From all this world's mortality, 
 
 We know not, though the soul may dare 
 
 To ask its God in holy pray'r. 
 
 And trust it may be ransomed there. — 
 
 Thus disciplin'd what soul will dread 
 
 Sweet converse with the mighty dead ? — 
 
 — Thus may'st thou, Venta, fondly boast 
 
 Of thy proud destiny, and gaze 
 Adown thy aisles upon a host 
 
 Of antient kings, who lov'd to raise 
 A gorgeous structure to the God 
 Of that first British King, who trod 
 His fatherland with Clmstian sigh, 
 And bade it spum idolatry. 
 0, what a thrilling awe must grasp 
 The soul, to let its fancy clasp 
 Within its sight the very form 
 Of old Kinegbs, ere the storm 
 Burst on his son from Danish might 
 And plung'd his coimtry into night ; — 
 Mid such a scene, to feel the soul 
 
 Hold sweet communion with the past,
 
 37 
 
 And British annals to unrol 
 
 IVIidst spectral monarchs crowding fast, 
 Edi-eds there, and Keniilph's line, 
 Edmund's shade, and Norman sign 
 Of papal pow'r, half confess'd, 
 With Kufus of the dauntless breast. — 
 Such presence must the heart address. 
 And teach it Christian humbleness. 
 I reck not, though there are who scoff 
 Such humble sjTicracy of thought, 
 I would not from such scenes be off 
 
 To Houris' heav'n with pleasure fi'aught :- 
 — My foe is dim, — my time is sped, — 
 Take it who will, I love the dead. 
 
 XVI. 
 
 On the broad tablets of the mind 
 
 Could history no record find 
 
 Of murd'rous war's religious hate, 
 
 Where lurk'd oppression mask'd in state, 
 
 But only catch one dismal glance 
 
 Of a long void of ignorance ; 
 
 It might be well to stay the pow'rs 
 
 Of language, through such sick'ning horn's : —
 
 38 
 
 — Not such however is the truth 
 
 Recorded ou the mem'ry's youth : — 
 
 Long seras pass'd in reckless sin 
 
 Will shut out learning's form within; — 
 
 The will of man, allow'd to stray 
 
 But once from that God's charter'd way, 
 
 To disobedience will attain ; — 
 
 Then consciousness of guilt wiE train 
 
 The mind to crimes of deeper dye, 
 
 And raving dare eternity ; 
 
 — Wm mar God's image stamp'd on man 
 
 Crush ev'ry virtue ere began ; — 
 
 Win supersede each blessed grace. 
 
 For faith proud bigotry replace ; 
 
 Immortal hope must dread to die, 
 
 And murd'rous torture even vie 
 
 To call its orgies Charity. 
 
 E'en thus man's disobedience broue-ht 
 
 Sin at the first with terrors fraught, 
 
 Drown'd every spark of virtue's sense, 
 
 And foid'd e'en Adam's innocence. 
 
 Such horrors does th' historic page 
 
 Eecord, when false religion's rage 
 
 Withers the world, and mercy riv'n 
 
 Hardens man's heart against his heav'n. —
 
 39 
 
 Where then shall youthful ardoui- find 
 
 One ray to cheer its darksome flight ?- 
 A world unbless'd by God must bind 
 
 For aeras all in dismal night : — 
 All hope, aU grace, aU mercy fled, 
 O ! — 'twere a boon had heav'n said. 
 Thou world, for such a time, be dead. 
 
 END OF THE FIRST CANTO.
 
 CANTO II. 
 I. 
 
 0, who shall stay the mind's discursive pow'r 
 When rests its earthly shell thi'ough midnight's houi' ; 
 When silent suns 'mid grandeur seem to roU, 
 And God's majestic worlds the heav'ns control ? — 
 Say, — shall th' untrameU'd soid not seek the sky, 
 Where centre all its hopes ? — not thither fly. 
 Whence sprung ? — Say from yon glaring wreck, 
 Yawning with fiery death from every deck, — 
 Say, does yon mother's agonising shriek, 
 As wild she clasps her babe, not loudly speak, 
 E'en louder than the rush of tempest's roar, 
 Madd'ning the ocean's biUows, as they soar 
 To sweep the clouds, — e'en louder than the crash 
 Of wreck stiU blazing, which its engines lash 
 With hideous fury through th' entombing Avave, 
 TlU hissing through the siurge it finds a grave ? — 
 Say, does that shriek not loudly speak of heav'n. 
 Not loudly hope through Christ its sins forgiv'n ? — 
 Say, does that shriek not speak of aU its love. 
 Its home on Britain's shore, — its home above ? — 
 — Then give the soul its freedom ; — let it breathe 
 Its native element, and fondly wreathe
 
 4i 
 
 Its own immortal crown, which heav'n will give, 
 K undefiled before its God it live. 
 
 E'en thus while resting thi'ough the watch of night 
 My fancy seem'd_^to wing its fondest flight. 
 And wand'ring o'er the earth, with sleep o'ercast, 
 It call'd up olden scenes from ages past. 
 E'en from that time, when mad oppression reign'd, 
 And fraud and violence her annals stain' d. 
 And rampant ignorance with iron heel 
 Crush'd every spark'of virtue it could feel, 
 Gave up the soul divine to priesthood's state. 
 Till Papal Kome in thunders sealed her fate. — 
 — And then it upwards soar'd ; — till human eye 
 Its heav'n-w^ard flight no longer could descry. 
 And wand'ring free amidst those orbs of light 
 Joyous it seem'd to revel in the sight 
 Of that its home it long'd for : — Oh what bliss 
 Around my soul entranc'd in happiness 
 Now flitted ; — say, what priceless gems may buy 
 Such visions of heav'n's majesty ? — ^there die, 
 And serve the humblest duty of the sky ? — 
 — ^WhUe thus 'mid scenes ecstatic on it soar'd 
 From bright to brighter glorj^ lov'd, ador'd 
 By myriad seraphs ; — softly o'er the flood 
 Of heav'n's immensity, methought, where stood 
 An Angel-choir, were wafted to my ear
 
 42 
 
 The silver tones of trumpets, then a fear 
 Spread o'er my troubled soul, lest found alone. 
 Spy-like without a guide, before the tlu-one 
 It should be summon'd ; — but the trumpet's swell 
 Pass'd onwards, as deep sleep upon me fell. 
 
 II. 
 
 The Tnimpets' note had scarcely died, 
 
 From off the top of Heav'n's high canopy. 
 The music of the spheres fuU wide 
 
 Peel'd forth in chords of holiest minstrelsy. 
 As Sun to Sun blaz'd forth above 
 The summons of Jehovah's love 
 To all the myriads of his host. 
 That, countless, to man's sight are lost ; — 
 Those myriad worlds, which countless suns 
 
 Warm daily into life and light. 
 Where through the empyrean runs 
 
 Eternal space, devoid of night ; — 
 — Away, away ; — the echo past. 
 
 Wafting around its choral hannouy. 
 Each happy world, as though the last, 
 
 Pour'd forth the while its blessed chivalry :- 
 There marshall'd on the heav'n-lit space 
 That knew no time, nor bounds, nor place,
 
 43 
 
 Under their owii seraphic pow'rs, 
 
 Legion on legion on their way 
 Were wafted past those azm-e tow'rs, 
 
 In one continued bright array, 
 
 As though a never ending day 
 Would never tell of closing hours : — 
 Still onwards, — and the dizzy eye 
 
 Belief from splendour sought in vain, 
 Each host seemed brighter, as more nigh 
 Its effluence felt the holier tie, 
 
 That drew it to its source again : — 
 Onwards and onwards swept there by 
 
 Host upon host, still brighter gleaming, 
 While from each choir a minstelsy 
 
 Of silver lutes kept softly streaming ; 
 Their's, not the flaunting sheen of war, 
 
 Their's, not the crested eagle's plume. 
 No rampant clarion gave the law 
 
 To mailed hosts for murd'rous doom ; 
 One single standard blaz'd above, 
 Sure emblem of triumphant love ; — 
 
 One single banner wav'd on high 
 
 Its endless folds throughout the sky ; — 
 Its one device proclaim'd the reign 
 Of liim, the Lamb, the Saviour slain, 
 
 One God to all eternity. —
 
 44 
 III. 
 
 O, hast thou, in the lonesome hour 
 Of midnight's silence, felt the pow'r 
 
 Of your Redeemer's love. 
 When gazing, as the tidal wave 
 Dash'd each third billow through the cave 
 
 Of bounding rock above ? 
 Hast thou, at such an hour, e'er felt 
 
 Thine own vile nothingness, — 
 When peering o'er the moonlit deep, 
 Or gazing upwards through the steep 
 
 Of starlit gorgeousness ? — 
 Has thy cheek felt the thrilling tear 
 Of conscience, clos'd for many a year 
 
 Against the summons of thy God ? — 
 Hast thou through blessedness of grace, 
 There on the wet beach found a place 
 
 To kneel ? hast thou there felt the rod 
 Of chast'ning love, of patience giv'n. 
 To save you for your promis'd heav'n ? — 
 Or hast thou, ere the Autumn's sun 
 
 Has clos'd a gorgeous day, 
 And seems, although his race be run. 
 From man's ingratitude to run 
 
 And hide his parting ray ; —
 
 45 
 
 Hast thou e'er listen' d to the tale, 
 Amid a forest's deepest vale, 
 
 Alone upon a Sabbath eve, 
 
 When none but God was nigh ? 
 That tale of sin thy soul recalls, — 
 By thee forgot within those walls, 
 
 Where wealth and pride their meshes weave, 
 That once so pleas'd thine eye ? — 
 Hast thou then commun'd with thy soul, 
 As one red glance of sunset stole 
 Away from its departing source, 
 And as thine eye has mark'd its course 
 Across the oaks, that giimly seem 
 Upon thy conscience there to gleam. 
 
 And summon you to pray'r ? 
 Hast thou then felt the sin of pride, 
 Th' eternal doom that is allied 
 
 To this world's fondest care ? 
 Thus summon' d, there, 'midst nature wild, 
 There on the turf, as very child. 
 Hast thou to God thy full heart bar'd, — 
 Thy thoughts, thy hopes, thy conscience dar'd 
 All, aU to thy Redeemer's love 
 To trust, and look to him above ? — 
 Hast thou felt this ?— then come with me 
 To muse on God's etemitv.
 
 46 
 IV. 
 
 Beyond the utmost verge of thought, 
 Far higher, than the soul has caught 
 Of dreaming fancy's wildest pow'r, 
 E'en in its happiest, noblest hour;— 
 Above, still higher, e'en than this. 
 From centre of immortal bHss, 
 Which Angel's vision cannot reach, 
 And human tongue in vain would teach ; — 
 
 There shone, amidst th' eternal blaze 
 Of adamant's unclouded rays. 
 
 The throne of him the First, the Last, 
 One Holy, blessed Trinity, 
 When aU creation shall have past. 
 And e'en eternity be cast 
 
 Back on its pristine dignity ; — 
 Thence glow'd the living word of Tmth, 
 
 Unchang'd, unchanging in its might. 
 The same, that in primeval youth 
 
 Call'd all creation into Hght, 
 
 Then bless'd, and gave it fresh and bright. 
 Around through aU those arched aisles 
 That no hand fashion' d, and where smiles 
 The endless bloom of vernal hours. 
 Arches, that reach'd the highest tow'rs. 
 In lengthen'd massiveness there stood,
 
 47 
 
 Deep seated in the deptliless flood 
 
 Of worlds' stupendous masomy ; — 
 Column on column thro* mid-sky 
 In endless grandeiu" rose on high, 
 
 A scene of natui'e's majesty ; — 
 There in one length'ning close an-ay, — 
 Deep as the sand, that skiiis the bay 
 Bleach'd by the ocean's sdent wave. 
 That foam, nor might of storm can lave,- 
 Unscath'd by hapless seaman's grave, — 
 Seraphs, and Baimerets, and Pow'rs 
 
 Each in theii- own allotted place. 
 Where sim on sun its brightness show'rs 
 
 Thi-oughout one long unclouded race. 
 E'en to the confines of the day, 
 That, trackless in its living ray. 
 Grows brighter in its wider sway : — 
 — There marshall'd o'er creation's space, 
 Blissful in thought, in deed, in face. 
 
 More blissful as more nigh, 
 AJl waited with ecstatic joy. 
 Their Father's presence, to employ 
 
 Theuf soul in thrilling melody. 
 
 V. 
 
 It came ; — it fill'd the boimdless range 
 ^Vhere aU created Angels stood.
 
 48 
 
 Bliss, joy, delight in rapid change 
 
 Swept silent, like the swelling flood ; — 
 As in the fulness of its love, 
 And boundless as the space above, 
 Each soul to soul responding thrill'd 
 With rapture, that its bosom fiU'd, 
 
 Thi'Ough sympathy of thought ; — 
 Till past the limits of control. 
 The tongue, responsive to the soul, 
 
 Its holy fire caught ; — 
 Then thi'ough 'mid heav'n's highest sphere. 
 Was wafted to the list'ning ear. 
 
 Th' angelic hymn of grateful praise 
 To God the source of blessing : — 
 
 And has each voice in swelling lays 
 Told of its joyous thrilling. 
 Choir on choir caught the soimds. 
 Till tlirough creation's farthest bounds 
 This melody was ringing. 
 
 HYMN OF THE ANGELS. 
 
 Father, let thy Spirit's holy love 
 
 Touch now, as e'er, our lute's seraphic chord, 
 To thee, and thine own Son our hymns above 
 
 Thus shall we fondly raise with one accord ; —
 
 49 
 
 Semic/iortis fint. 
 Hail, thou eternal som*ce of life ! 
 
 The first, the last creative Pow'r, 
 The same, that from Chaotic strife, 
 Thy worlds with teeming nature rife, 
 Call'dst forth to bless an Eden's bow'r. 
 CJiortis. Thee, with choral hjonns we bless. 
 Who dost life and light afford ; 
 Thee, our heav'nly choirs confess, 
 ]\Iighty Father, gracious Lord. 
 
 In mercy, let not pride our souls entliral. 
 
 Pride, that first led thy children to rebel ; 
 Still, teach oui- tongues that justice to recall, 
 That gave to us — a heav'n, to them — a hell. 
 Seniicliorus second. 
 Thus in one everlastina: song 
 
 The Cherubim thy truth shall praise. 
 And Seraphim the hymn prolong ; 
 Armies of mailyrs freed from wrong 
 Their Hallelujahs ever raise. 
 Chorus. Thee, creations, as they roll, 
 
 Nature teems with thee ador'd ; 
 Thee, thy sims and moons, extol, 
 Mighty Father, Grracious Lord, 
 
 D
 
 50 
 
 And while to us such bliss by thee is giv'n, 
 
 Let not our selfish thoughts obstruct thy care ; 
 Make us to love thy holy work in heav'n. 
 And thro' creation's range thy word to bear. 
 
 Seinichorm first. 
 Thee, in the God-head we revere, 
 
 Thy Son — though man's Redeemer giv'n, 
 Wlio, to calm the sinner's tear. 
 Rage, nor death, nor hell didst fear ; 
 
 Thus our Judge, when worlds be riv'n. 
 Chorus. Thee, Sabaoth's Prince, all bless, 
 Thee, all pious souls declare ; 
 Thee, the mighty dead confess, 
 Praise and magnify for e'er. 
 
 Thus, by thy love instructed, may we teach 
 
 This truth to all thy worlds, wherever found, 
 That at the dread account thy law shall reach, 
 By mercy temper'd, all thy Son hath crown'd. 
 
 Semichorus second. 
 Thee, thy church in heav'n triumphing. 
 
 Holy Spirit, doth implore ; 
 Thee, not made, nor bom, nor fleeting. 
 But from thine own self proceeding. 
 In the Godhead we adore.
 
 51 
 
 Chorus. Thee, One God, all angels laud, 
 
 For thy truth, and grace, and care ; 
 Thee, all saints, through love ador'd, 
 Praise and magnify for e'er. 
 
 VI: 
 
 Methought, before the blaze of light, 
 
 Encircling, thro' heav'n's height, 
 
 That centre, whence the Living Word 
 
 Of Truth flam'd forth, whence God was heard, 
 
 Transcendent, angels veil'd their face, 
 
 As their hymn's echo died away, 
 And a dread silence fDl'd the space. 
 
 Where late was wafted melody ; — 
 And, as of adoration's joy 
 
 AU prostrate felt th' ecstatic bliss, 
 Such single glance, without aUoy, 
 Of Him, tho' able to destroy, 
 
 Repaid an age's watchfulness : — 
 Then pass'd across the boundless scene 
 A voice so sweet, it might have been 
 That voice, that wak'd my earliest love, 
 Sent on its mission fi-om above ; — 
 So clear the voice, one might have thought 
 The echo of the spheres had caught 
 The fii-st creation's harmony ; —
 
 52 
 
 So gentle too, it seem'd to bring 
 
 Back from the silence of tlie dead 
 
 A voice, a mother's voice, that led 
 My earliest lispings to the spring 
 
 Of God's stupendous mystery. — 
 And there, while thus entranc'd I lay 
 In that apocalyptic sway 
 Of each ecstatic vision's bliss, 
 Stm streaming from the holiness, 
 
 That veil'd the holiest heav'n. 
 The still small voice fell on my ear 
 In soimds ineffable, through fear. 
 And bliss, and love's ecstatic tear 
 
 To man in mercy giv'n ; — 
 I heard, methought, I saw, I felt, 
 
 I know not what, I cannot tell, 
 I veil'd my sight, I pray'd, T knelt, 
 
 And vainly sought to burst the spell. 
 That whelm'd my thrilling soul ; — 
 The vision pass'd : — I seem'd to hear 
 
 Those self-same lutes of sUveiy note, 
 Now softly dying, as less near, 
 
 As ev'ning-chimes o'er waters float. 
 And mem'iy's thoughts control .- — 
 And of that bard, whom boyhood's play 
 
 Had tir'd on fabled Vidtur's steep.
 
 53 
 
 Those doves of heav'n-born minstrelsy 
 
 With fanning mngs watch'd o'er his sleep, 
 And as he slept, and dreamt, and saw 
 
 Those visions of poetic fire. 
 And, waking, own'd the mighty law. 
 
 That bade his soid to heav'n aspii'C ; — 
 E'en thus, ere yet the vision fled, 
 A silent fanning o'er my head 
 Seem'd all its holy calm to spread ; 
 
 So gently binding was the pow'r 
 
 That sway'd that one, that happy houi' ; — 
 And as my eyes now fondly sought 
 
 Whereon to fix that vision's truth, — 
 O God ! — I see it now : — one thought, 
 
 — My earliest thought of happy youth 
 Came rushing back from mem'ry's store, 
 As midst a flood of soften'd Hght, 
 There stood my guardian angel bright, 
 StiU gazing on me as of yore, 
 But calmer, lovelier, than before. — 
 
 VII. 
 
 Was it a dream ? — or did the mind, 
 New waking, its fond vision find 
 Embodied, that its fancy's pow'r.
 
 u 
 
 E'en from its cradle's sunniest houi", 
 Might, tlirougli its faith, both see, and prove 
 The ministry of angels' love : — 
 — Yes, even so ; — the same calm'd eye, 
 Now spoke of more than pity's sigh 
 For fallen man, — it told of sonl 
 Nigh breaking from the heart's control, 
 In boundless love, that guardians share 
 For those, that know no parent's care ; — 
 But, ! — how holier e'en than this. 
 When sent to win their souls to bliss : — 
 — And there he stood, more sweetly beaming 
 
 With radiant brow, and longing gaze, 
 And as his love still piirer gleaming. 
 
 Told how he long'd from earth to raise 
 Me, still entranc'd upon the earth, 
 As though he'd grant a second birth ; — 
 And ere my tongue the silence broke. 
 
 In grateful sense of mercy giv'n. 
 In sorrow's mildest tones he spoke. 
 
 And thus affirm'd the wiU of heav'n. 
 
 THE ANGEL'S TALE. 
 
 " It necdeth not, I shoidd relate 
 *' What fearful doom did surely wait
 
 55 
 
 " Those sins, from year to year untold, 
 " Th' Almighty had denomic'd of old 
 " Unpardon'd, and through highest heav'n 
 " Declar'd could never be forgiv'n. — 
 " You know, too, at what price redeem'd 
 " From olden sin and death, there seem'd 
 " By him, the Very Son, the Word, 
 
 " That call'd creation into light, 
 " A way to life, before unheard, 
 
 " New open'd to each mortal's sight ; 
 " Where he might learn, and know, and feel, 
 " And immortality reveal, 
 " What glory should his labovu: seal. — 
 " — But all seem'd vain : — I may not tell 
 " The grief of heav'n, the joy of hell 
 " O'er this world's unrepenting state, 
 " Thus daring impiously its fate : — 
 " How tlu'ough the sUent lapse of time, 
 " This world, deep stain'd with foulest crimr 
 " Would ne'er repent, though daily warn'd 
 " By angels ; — nay, — it ever scom'd 
 " God's prophets, of that holy band 
 '' Some it profan'd and dyed its strand 
 " With blood of others ; — e'en as when, 
 " O God ! thy pity spar'd the men, 
 " Who dar'd thy vengeance, by a deed
 
 56 
 
 " Of mui'd'rous rage against thy Son, 
 
 " Who clos'd his life as it begun, 
 
 " In victoiy, from torture won. — 
 " 'Twere vain to tell how from that horn- 
 " The pow'rs of sin did ever lour 
 " Upon the Christian's race, lest he 
 " Should predestroy its destiny : — 
 " Hence, heav'n permitting, all the guile 
 " Of raving malice, with the smile 
 " Of the old Serpent, has it plied 
 " Through means by which it fell, its pride ; — 
 " Nay, — all those schools, where Christian lore 
 " Is gather'd fi-om the mighty store, 
 " That earliest martyrs ever penn'd 
 " For youthful faith, that to the end 
 " Allegiance to Chiist might prove 
 " The fountain, whence it drew its love ; — 
 " Those schools — where childhood's pow'rs are traiu'd 
 " For manhood's greatness, pride constrain'd 
 " To meekness, all in foulest spite 
 " Has sin defil'd, obscur'd the light 
 " Of God reveal'd in truth, and smil'd 
 " With gloating eyes, and visage wild 
 " With horrid joy, whene'er it taught 
 " The teacher to believe, and brought
 
 57 
 
 " Their youth from truthfiducss to pai1, 
 " And deem a lie the nobler art." 
 
 Scarce could my guardian angel's voice 
 
 In falt'ring accents tell its tale. 
 How o'er its charge would sin rejoice, 
 
 And death and sorrow never fail 
 To cause each soul its God to shun, 
 And feel the woe itself had done. 
 Methought, while on his words I hung. 
 Broken by grief, by conscience stimg, 
 An awful silence wi-app'd my soid, 
 Bewilder'd past the tongue's control. 
 
 That shew'd the sinning man : — 
 I seem'd among the icy dead. 
 As my lov'd guardian veil'd his head. 
 
 At presence none dar'd scan ; 
 Then flam'd from off Jehovah's thi'one 
 The di-eadfid sentence, " Shall alone 
 " We— the One God — not vengeance bring 
 
 " On crime thus fearful ? — Shall one speck- 
 " — One senseless speck its poison fling 
 
 " On all our boundless worlds, that deck 
 "Our infinite creation's space, 
 " — Of justice outrage eveiy grace, 
 " And leave for mercy not a place?"
 
 58 
 
 My soul with hoiTor seem'd to chill, 
 As the dread silence pass'd away, 
 Vainly I thought by pray'r to fill 
 The gulph of endless agony ; — 
 But my lov'd guardian stay'd my tongue 
 As o'er eternity it hung ; — 
 While through the endless space of light, 
 
 A voice of music, tun'd by love, 
 Mov'd o'er each world, that shone more bright. 
 While thus the vengeance from above 
 To calm through mercy's pray'r it strove ; — 
 Thus then, methought, I heard the Son 
 Call back the Father's love ; — and won 
 Some respite for our world of sin ; — 
 That show'd how fiercely burnt within 
 Those pure emotions of the soul. 
 That no worlds give — no worlds control: — 
 Thus, did that Saviour intercede 
 Fulfill'd his promise and our need. 
 And stay'd the fatal axe's deed. — 
 
 All now had pass'd away ; — no somid 
 Was wafted from the vastness round ; — 
 And naught was seen but endless space 
 Still spreading upwards ; — then the face 
 Of my kind angel faintly smil'd. 
 With eye now beaming for the sake
 
 59 
 
 Of hope, that saw through terror's wild, 
 And thus the silence seem'd to break. 
 " Oh ! how I shudder to relate 
 " The sequel, that will seal your fate : — 
 " But it must be ; — hear then the rest, 
 *' Ere to the bow'rs of the blest 
 " I wing my last, my sorrowing way, 
 
 " Ne'er to revisit, as my care, 
 " This world abandon'd to the sway 
 
 " Of the lost angels, for their preyj — 
 " So dreadfid to th' Almighty's love 
 " Is sin, such terrors does it move : — 
 " — Five eras hence must pass, and bring 
 " Woe, such as ne'er was known before, 
 " And gilded heathenism spring, 
 
 " And all its foulest craft restore ; 
 " Wide o'er the world its darkness fling, 
 " Till its own chains it does adore : — 
 " Such guile shall that old serpent try 
 " To make the world believe its lie, 
 " Till time shall compass prophecy. — 
 " Still is there hope, stiU o'er the world 
 " The flag of truth shall be unfuil'd, 
 " And the great lie it once belicv'J 
 " As its lov'd nestling, undeceiv'd 
 " By its foul oftspring, yet shall break
 
 60 
 
 " Its mental fetters : — then the stake 
 "And blazing fagot, and the rack, 
 " Glutted with tortur'd blood, shall track 
 " Thi-ough foulest dungeon to the grave 
 *' AH, who th' Apostate Church will brave, 
 " And welcome death their souls to save : — 
 " Then shall those schools, so long bereav'd 
 " Of Christian light, at length retriev'd 
 " From hideous darkness, burst the spell 
 " That made them worse than infidel, 
 " And bend, 'midst tort'ring fire, the knee 
 " To Christ, who gave them liberty; 
 
 " Now learn how fiendish is the guile, 
 " That will not brook the lightest smile 
 " Of truth's progressive pow'r to bring 
 " Its earliest incense, from the spring 
 
 '• Of youth's confiding love ; 
 " Hence wiU those fiends their poison breathe 
 " Into its vitals, tUl it wreathe 
 " The chaplet for its futm'c woe 
 " With gloomy cypress, and forego 
 " Its hopes in Christ above : — 
 " — Hence will their hearts be train'd to crush 
 " All Gospel freedom, hence they'll rush, 
 " Like Harpies, to the loves of home 
 " And bear them oft' to foulest doom : —
 
 61 
 
 *' — Hence, too, they'll seek to blind the sight 
 
 " Of every nation, by a light, 
 
 " That like the phantom of the moor 
 
 " Leads but to ruin, hence will lure 
 
 " Man's holiest hopes, his childi-en seU 
 
 " To sin tlu'ough the confessional, 
 
 '' And teach through this, their bloodiest rod, 
 
 " Man's only trust to find his God : — 
 
 " Nay they will build, and foimd, and bless, 
 
 " Endow too, that the nothingness 
 
 " Of all their show may be conceal'd, 
 
 " Schools, Grammar-Schools, where wiU be seal'd 
 
 " The fate, that blinds each virtue's glance, 
 
 " The doom, that waits on ignorance. — 
 
 " Mercy, they know not, cannot feel 
 
 " Those charities, that would reveal 
 
 " Peace, joy, long-suif 'ring through wrong, 
 
 •' Meekness of spirit, freedom strong 
 
 " In virtue's truth, that cannot lie, 
 
 " That dares not sin, but dares to die, 
 
 " To rescue Christian liberty. — 
 
 " Once angels, demons now, — for lost 
 
 " To blessing, hopeless are they toss'd 
 
 " Upon the damning waves of pride, 
 
 " Pride, — that to treason is allied, 
 
 " Pride — that once urg'd them to defy
 
 62 
 
 " The bliss of immortality. — 
 
 " And as they may not now regain, 
 
 " Through deep contrition's harrowing pain, 
 
 " What they have lost, — ^they live — they curse— 
 
 " All that the Saviour's zeal has stamp'd, 
 "And what is vUe they render worse, 
 
 " That all in ruin may be swamp'd. 
 
 " Yet fi-om this guilt God's Church will soar 
 
 " Free, as the phaenix in its pride, 
 "And deck'd in bridal-fire adore 
 
 " Her bridegroom walking by her side ; — 
 " And schools and learning's bow'rs arise, 
 " Beaming with radiance to the skies, 
 
 " TiU time and space shall be no more. — 
 *' No more ; — I must away ; — the dawn 
 " Of twilight cliides the tardy mora ; — 
 " I must away ; — yet hear me, — still 
 " The night is loit'ring on the hiU ; — 
 " Pray'r, humble pray'r and faith will save 
 " A world, — will teach it hell to brave, — 
 " And Christ will give the strength he gave. 
 " And now farewell : — I pass away 
 
 " Back to the mansions of the blest, 
 " Whilst thou, poor child of earth, must stay, 
 
 " And I must cease to watch thy rest : — 
 " O world ! wretched world ! to be
 
 63 
 
 " Godless, as wi'eck on moonless sea, 
 " Unblest e'en to posterity," 
 
 — He ceas'd, it was, methought, to pause 
 Awhile, and weep — but no — the laws 
 Of heav'n forbade — he came to fill 
 The high commission of God's will : — 
 To warn the world of certain woe. 
 The penalty of sins below : — 
 I started ; he had pass'd — ^yet now 
 One burning spot upon my brow 
 Stdl summons me to morning pray'r. 
 As tho' I felt his presence there, 
 Still warns me on each stilly eve, 
 By pray'r, God's mercy to believe, 
 Through faith, God's blessing to receive. 
 
 *
 
 64 
 VII.— VIII 
 
 ^wmtsifmsfmi 
 
 
 
 B^ 
 
 ■arsuffiww 
 
 S^SiSB 
 
 mKa^ai^se 
 
 A period of five 
 
 eras. 
 
 ages of 
 
 ignorance, 1 
 
 
 
 sin 
 
 and misery. 
 
 
 
 * 
 
 * 
 
 * 
 
 * 
 
 * 
 
 * 
 
 * 
 
 * 
 
 * 
 
 * 
 
 * 
 
 * 
 
 * 
 
 * 
 
 * 
 
 * 
 
 * 
 
 * 
 
 * 
 
 * 
 
 * 
 
 * 
 
 
 * 
 
 
 * 
 
 
 *. 
 
 
 * 
 
 
 * 
 
 
 * 
 
 
 IX. 
 
 — Time had unveil'd God's will, the source 
 Of man's sole blessing, though its course 
 Through ages had wrought deepest woe, 
 That dares not in its grief forego. 
 Despite of hope and faith to bless, 
 The dread of endless nothingiiess : — 
 So fearful is the mind, bereft
 
 65 
 
 Of revelation's light, and lel't 
 To scan the fathomless abyss, 
 Beyond the tomb's foul loneliness : — 
 Thrice steep'd in mercy's boundless love. 
 
 Is heav'n's vengeance, should it save 
 One guilty world from wrath above, 
 
 Denounc'd for e'er beyond the gn-ave — 
 If once surrenders! to the nde 
 Of vaunted reason's selfish school : — 
 — 'Twas thus — when reason stood dismay 'd 
 As its own image, there pourtray'd, 
 In the false mirror Rome had forg'd. 
 Till e'en the world itself was gorg'd 
 
 With its own folly's hideous sin : — 
 One glance of truth flash'd o'er the scene — 
 God gave his witness what had been — 
 
 A Christian's liberty within. 
 — Hence, vainly did thy royal wiU 
 Seek thine own purpose to fulfil, 
 
 Like Saul, its fancied pow'r : 
 God's mercy over-nil'd alone, 
 God stay'd thee, Henry, on thy throne. 
 
 E'en in thy wUdest horn- : — 
 Bewilder'd b)' religion's light, 
 Madden' d by craven Rome, to fight 
 
 For liberty, thou could'st not prize.
 
 66 
 
 Chafing on every side through ire, 
 Thou hurl'dst the brand upon the pyi'e, 
 
 Eome bade its flame arise. 
 — But all was vain — God's eflluent might 
 Had call'd a Cranmer to the fight ; 
 A fight, that ages past had striv'n, 
 When first a Wickliife's soid was giv'n 
 
 To rescue Britain's crown : — 
 Rome, saw the lion rous'd from sleep. 
 Rome, heard the thi-eat'ning thunder sweep 
 
 Her oriflamme to drown ; 
 From that di'ead hour she knew her doom :— 
 Grod's word woidd clear th' enshrouding gloom, 
 That had consign'd her to the tomb. — 
 Thus, by God's grace constrain'd, you dar'd 
 
 A stiife, you reck'd not how, nor why ; 
 No — not for Christendom you car'd, 
 
 Henry, you heard, nor grief, nor sigh ; — 
 Your hopes no mother's love could train 
 To deem another's woe your pain -. — 
 But, urg'd by princely show and pride, 
 From Rome's own cofi'ers you supplied 
 To thy broad acres, whence should spring. 
 Fair Durham, all that faith might bring. 
 Those noble Grammar Schools, whence she, 
 
 Lowly on earth, though bright above.
 
 67 
 
 Might open to her couutiy, free 
 
 From the dark fetters Rome had riv'n. 
 
 And bear, as tribute of her love, 
 
 That youthful band she'd train'd for heav'n 
 — O ! thou didst humble Rome : — thy will 
 
 Unmask'd her filthiness of soul — 
 Fawning, she bade thee diink thy fiU, 
 
 And thus thy people to control : — 
 But no : — thy British blood disdaind 
 Such treason with pollution stain'd : — 
 — And what, tho' a protesting world 
 
 Had mail'd its hosts of warrior men — 
 And Rome assail'd the truth unfurl'd, 
 
 Firmly, they clos'd their ranks again : 
 They reck'd not death, they spurn'd to fly, 
 
 Arm'd in religion's panoply : — 
 Thus, from the spoils of gorged Rome, 
 
 Thy Cromwell rear'd a holier pow'r, 
 And Cranmer bade a nobler dome 
 
 Grace his lov'd Britain's christian bow'r. 
 And London saw her merchants' care, 
 
 In one imited holy band. 
 Their Grammar Schools in holy pray'r 
 
 Endow throughout their free-born land : — 
 So priceless, joyous, was the light, 
 That broke the Papal pow'r — the Papal might.
 
 68 
 X. 
 
 Above the grandeur of the storm, 
 Wreathing its might in dizzy form 
 
 Upon the swelt'ring vale below, 
 Hast thou from Alpine glacier-crag 
 Where the brain falters, and would drag 
 
 From hideous death, midst wildest sky 
 Bewild'ring every hope to save 
 Off th' edg'd chasm of the grave, 
 
 The firmest step, and steadiest eye 
 Of hunter, who its wrath would brave. 
 
 Nor thus, his prey forego ? — 
 Hast thou the black'ning tempest seen 
 To rive the giant rocks, between 
 
 The light'ning's wildest blaze ; 
 And as the heavens outpour' d their might, 
 And avalanche's rushing night 
 
 O'erwhelm'd their silent gaze ? — 
 There, hast thou felt thy senseless boast, 
 
 That thou could'st stem the whirlwind's pow'r, 
 And ere the heaven's gathering host 
 
 Had crush'd thee in thy sinful hour ? 
 There, 'midst the crash of nature's strife. 
 Hast thou been taught who holds thy life ; — 
 
 Forc'd, too, to own, its fury past.
 
 (59 
 
 How God in mercy rules the blast, 
 And makes each beauteous scene to last ? — 
 Thus school'd thou canst discern what fears, 
 What hopes, amid her silent tears, 
 Made thy lov'd coimtry's pray'rs to heav'u 
 United rise, for sins forgiv'n : 
 — When nodding plumes o'er Heniy's bier 
 Told the last tale of his career 
 And oave to Britain's sacred vow, 
 Stamp'd on her Edward's youthfid brow. 
 
 The finnness of his sire : 
 Vainly, did Eome's seductive skdl 
 Entwine new charms his soul to fill 
 
 And kindle ncAV desire; 
 His virtue's pow'r a Cramner train'd 
 To nobler views, through freedom gaiu'd 
 
 At pure religion's fire, 
 in years — a youth, in mind — a man, 
 Well vers'd in fi-eedom's cause to scan, 
 That the sxwe bulwarks of his throne 
 Were hearts, that dar'd religion own, 
 Eeligion pure — untrammeU'd — free — 
 
 Bas'd on the Gospel's liberty : 
 
 — Hence through his Britain's hills and glens 
 
 He bade his Grammar Schools arise. 
 From Scotland's wilds, o'or Lincoln's fens
 
 70 
 
 One clieering summons rent the skies, 
 Wales caught the note off Cornwall's lea, 
 And echoed, " Grammar Schools be free.' 
 
 XI. 
 
 Time was ; — one sat on Israel's thi'one, 
 A youthful prince, who dar'd disown 
 
 His country's feU idolatiy ; 
 Upheld, through faith in God's command, 
 Humbly he brav'd the priestly band 
 
 Of Baal 'midst its revehy ; — 
 And God's pure Word shone forth anew, 
 As sunbeam oif the morning dew 
 Gladden'd the wave-beleaguer'd Noah, 
 Eenew'd his faith, sore-tried before, 
 And did a punish'd world restore. 
 — E'en so, our Edward's boyish age 
 Glows brighter on the truthfid page 
 
 Of Britain's hope, and Britain's care, 
 
 Protesting still in holy pray'r 
 Against that false, that Godless pride. 
 That deems all Chiistendom beside. 
 Deep sunk in foulest heresy : — 
 And should not Britain's sons be taught. 
 How God by very childhood's thought
 
 71 
 
 Has fonl'd such priestly knavery ? — 
 ! theu those eiT not, should such deem 
 
 That Edward, with prophetic eye 
 To one lov'd * Grammar School, shoidd seem 
 
 To cling with holier, fonder tie : 
 That o'er this school his mind shoidd scan, 
 
 ^^ here nature revel'd in her pride, 
 Time would to Britain give a man, 
 
 In liis own faith who should preside — 
 Should give — a Paley — sire and son. 
 
 To teach religion's traths ^dth might; 
 Mid Torkshire's glens then- course should nin. 
 
 Training her sons for heav'rdy light, 
 
 And lead a world fi-om heathen night. 
 Shade of our Edward !- — who shall dare 
 Thy love in glowing praise declare, 
 Thy life to thy dear coimtiy giv'n. 
 Thy sold, thy faith, thy hope to heav'n ? — 
 There, there it brightens ; to that home 
 
 Through the brief space of its career 
 On earth, it longing lov'd to roam. 
 
 And kiss'd the prospect of its bier : — 
 God call'd thee hence at early hour. 
 Thy work was done, ere death did lour: — 
 Yet still thou liv'st, e'en like the rose, 
 * Giggleswick, Yorksliire.
 
 72 
 
 That blooms and passes off, yet throws 
 
 Its fragrance round its bow'r, 
 Nor will that fragrance cease, till Spring 
 Shall in its earliest bosom bring- 
 Fresh beauty to its flow'r : — 
 E'en thus, to trace kind nature's gift ; 
 Thy Grammar Schools would fondly lift 
 Their grateful strains of love, to praise 
 
 Thy bounteous behest ; 
 Yes, hallowed shade ! thy Britain owns 
 The blessedness, that ever crowns 
 The tomb, where thou dost rest. 
 
 EJJJD OF THE SECOND CANTO.
 
 CANTO III. 
 
 I. 
 
 At leugth, the twilight set behind the steeps, 
 Where sea-girt Britain in her grandeui- sleeps, 
 While on the shore, the sullen wave alone 
 Was heard responding to the deeper moan 
 Of ocean's troubled spirits, as they wept 
 O'er their lov'd island's sorrows, that still swept 
 Those homes, once happy, now oppress'd with shame 
 And outrage, kindled at an altar's flame.— 
 Tho' pass'd the t^vilight, yet the restless mind. 
 Wearied with daily tod, no sleep could find. 
 But, like the hideous phantom of the brain. 
 Brooded with noisome wmg o'er earth and main : — 
 While the foul air, close pack'd, with fiery breath 
 Fell, like the harbinger of stifling death : — 
 The dogs in piteous bowlings sought to gain 
 Some passing respite fi-om th' oppressing pain. 
 But howl'd in vain ;— no, not a sighing breeze 
 Whisper'd its coming tlivough the mountain trees 
 While murky vapours floating o'er the sky
 
 74 
 
 Made darkness felt, like Egypt's misery. 
 
 But — see ! did lightning flash across the gleam, 
 
 Where blends th' horizon with the ocean's stream ? — 
 
 Or did some meteor glare amid the scene 
 
 To fright its nations with portentous mein ? — 
 
 No ; 'mid yon glooming, which the distance shrouds. 
 
 One ray of sunset through the western clouds 
 
 Shot wildly red, and as it mark'd the sky. 
 
 Of coming tempest warn'd with angry sigh, 
 
 Wam'd the late fisher seek the nearest bay. 
 
 Where, shelter'd, he might wait the morrow's day ; — 
 
 While to his anxious ear the hideous swell, , 
 
 And deep-mouth 'd toUing of the nocturn bell, 
 
 Booming from out the convent's gloomy tow'r. 
 
 Told the dread presence of the midnight's horn* . — 
 
 And could there none be found, for Britain's weal. 
 
 At that lone hour, through faithfid pray'r, to seal 
 
 The Saviour's promis'd blessing ? — none awake 
 
 To watch o'er Britain's slumbers ? — none to break 
 
 The silence, and to pour their imnost soul 
 
 To God, whose will alone the storms control ? — 
 
 — Say, can a mother's love forget her cliild 
 
 She bore, and nurs'd, and train'd 'gainst dangers wild ?- 
 
 No — she does not forget ; —her every pray'r 
 
 To heav'n seems wafted only for his care : — 
 
 Nor could fair Granta in such hour rest,
 
 "Ihat holy mother, who had drain' d her breast 
 
 To nurse her Kidley's mind the fire to brave, 
 
 And Latimer to share the martyr's grave : — 
 
 To teach her Cranmer's soul, 'midst fagot's blaze, 
 
 Reckless of seething blood, his God to praise. — 
 
 Mourning, iu secret, their fond mother's pray'r 
 
 Was heard in silent whispers tkrough the air, 
 
 To hope through faith in Christ their sins forgiv'u, 
 
 And see 'midst fearful death their bliss in heav'n. 
 
 Nor could lov'd Oxford, now oppress'd with shame 
 
 To hear her charter'd liberty proclaim 
 
 Death to the freedom, that her Alfi'ed gave, 
 
 Stay the deep grief, that crush'd her to the grave : — 
 
 — So fiendish is the law of papal Rome, 
 
 That stifles every vii-tue of man's h ome. 
 
 That will nor age nor sex from torture spare, 
 
 But make e'en sister's hand a sister's death prepare. 
 
 n. 
 
 The fisher peer'd o'er tha dark'Ung sea, 
 
 As sidlenly roU'd each wave on the lea ; 
 
 No star above with its twinkling ray 
 
 Broke the swelt'ring gloom of that dismal bay, 
 
 But hideous silence alone reign'd tiiere, 
 
 A silence, that seem'd the gasp of despair : —
 
 76 
 
 — And a sliiv'ring crept o'er his aged form, 
 
 AlS he moor'd his skiff for the bursting storm ; 
 
 " God's vengeance will out," from the old man's pray'r, 
 
 Was drown'd in the crash from the blazing air : — 
 
 " God's vengeance will out," was the old man's ciy. 
 
 As the lightning's glare bewilder'd the sky. — 
 
 " — 'Tis a night that would cause e'en a fiend to quake, 
 
 " Though he rode on the stonn for murder's sake : — 
 
 " O God ! let thy vengeance spare Britain's home, 
 
 "And temper, with mercy, thy woes for Eome." 
 
 Hast thou, at the onslaught of 'leaguer'd men, 
 Heard the wild hurra, as it burst again 
 From the frowning tow'r, where death must meet 
 Each foeman's step up th' embattled steep ? — 
 Hast thou, as a thousand cannons rent 
 The heavens, on fire fi'om stormers sent. 
 Heard the bursting mine's volcanic breath. 
 As blazing it smother'd each foeman's death, 
 And hiu'ling its fire and storm from fosse, 
 Seen Britain's flag wave o'er the won Badajoz ? — 
 
 E'en so, tho' more fearful, athwart the wild sea 
 Gljp."'d the storm's lurid horrors, by lightning set free 
 In its cross dizzy track, as each deaf'ning peal 
 Drown'd the havoc, a fiery sky would reveal : — 
 In vain the bold headland shook oft' the wild spray, 
 That tow'riiig in grandeur, majestic in play,
 
 77 
 
 Dasli'd roaring amidst each deep-cavern'd recess, 
 Till it left it uprooted a wrecker's abyss. — 
 Asaiu the storm rush'd Avith its scathing affi-ay, 
 Not a lidl for a moment its fury could stay. 
 With hon-or before, and with havoc behind, 
 It bui-st, a tornado, no pow'r coidd bind. — 
 In vain those gnarl'd oaks, that hal brav'd the wild blast 
 OnJhy banks, lov'd Isis, for centui-ies past, 
 'Mid crashing confusion stiU rear'd their bold head, — 
 — God will'd it — they bow'd — and were pass'd to the dead • 
 And down those fair shores, where lov'd science had been, 
 A wild waste of Avaters disfigur'd each scene : — 
 Thy beauteous banks laboiir'd long to restrain 
 The torrent now madden'd by wind, and by rain, 
 TiU lash'd into fuiy, a broad driving sea 
 Bui'st forth, as the heav'ns glar'd red o'er the lea. 
 One shriek rent the skj^, e'en above the wild wave, 
 One shriek, but of thousands engulph'd in one grave, 
 That told the dread tale of no pow'r to save. — 
 
 m. 
 
 The deep-mouth'd beU of Chiisfs-Church tow'r 
 Had broke the gloom of matin's hour. 
 And sullen cowl of mitred head 
 To Eoman mmnmeries had sped.
 
 78 
 
 As thougli 'twoiild offer pray'r : — 
 But pray'r belongs not to the soul, 
 That naught ]jut self-will can control. 
 
 Its vengeance not forbear : — 
 Kneel, though it may, on marble stone, 
 And patter pray'rs ; — 'tis Grod alone 
 
 That sees and knows the secret mind, 
 
 Scatters its falseness to the wind, 
 
 And gives a blank no grace can find : — 
 — -In vain the lengthen' d horn- of prime 
 Had pass'd from gloom to morning's time — 
 In vain were Pater-Nosters strung, 
 Ave-Marias vainly sung. 
 And organ's swell, to pray'r aUied, 
 Had vainly aM its efforts tried. 
 
 To raise the soul to heav'n : — 
 That blessed grace, thi-ough Jesu felt, 
 Spmii'd each proud prelate, where he knelt,. 
 Told eachbar'd conscience, that its God, 
 Whose love into the dust it trod, 
 
 From mercy it had riv'n : — 
 !For who shaU impiously defame 
 A Christian Churchman's sacred name. 
 And brand with infamy his Creed, 
 Because, through Chi-ist alone its need 
 Of so'vi'eign grace, through every deed.
 
 79 
 
 It seeks from God, and spurns to own 
 A Clivirch, the Bible does disown — 
 How can the conscience of that man, 
 Who dares by writhing torture scan 
 A brother's hope of sins forgiv'n, 
 
 And hurl to fiery death and heav'n — 
 
 — How can such conscience seared be 
 Against its traifrous infamy ? 
 — TeU me not, error is the light 
 That points his path, and clouds his sight 
 'Tis false ; — the Bible says not so : — 
 — But, who Grod's talents wiU forego, 
 Shall, like that Pharaoh, who would sell 
 Both souls and bodies into hell. 
 Of God's own people, shall too late 
 Eepent, when death has seal'd his fate : — 
 But should you dare, in heathen lands 
 Where tort'ring death religion brands. 
 Tell me, that yon grim savage slave 
 Looks for his heav'n beyond the grave, 
 
 Though stain'd by children's blood : — 
 I can believe, God's love wiU scan 
 The ignorance of that wretched man, 
 
 And save through mercy's flood. — 
 — But do not tell me that the soul, 
 That wilfiUly spurns God's control.
 
 80 
 
 Can dare a single glance of thouglit 
 To liarbonr in its breast, that aught, 
 It dares to do, will e'er receive 
 A peaceful conscience, or retrieve 
 That hope, he once might have, that he 
 Would gain heav'n's immortality ? — 
 But no : -God's birthright he has sold, 
 Baiier'd his conscience for his gold, 
 
 Self-wiUd he roams a slave — 
 A slave to that foul harlot's call, 
 Doom'd by God's promises to fall, 
 
 Self-tortur'd to his grave. — 
 
 IV. 
 
 O'er a drear scene of wat'iy waste 
 
 The morning broke, in ling'ring haste. 
 
 Its desolation to reveal. 
 
 To madden'd prelate's wildest zeal, 
 
 That hearts to murd'rous deeds would steel : 
 
 But hark ? — was that a passing knell, 
 
 That boom'd from out yon gloomy tow'r ; 
 Or did a muffled death-like bell 
 
 Break the dread hoiTor of the hour ? 
 Again its note upon my ear, 
 
 Fails chiEing as the winters blast ;
 
 81 
 
 My life's-blood curdles, and a fear 
 
 With shudd'ring o'er my soul is cast : — 
 That deadly tone proclaims full loud, 
 Kome gloating in her vengeance proud, 
 That nature in her gloom woidd shroud : 
 — But now Eome triumphs : — 'tis her day 
 Of miird'rous vengeance ; none may stay 
 The fiat of Jehovah's will, 
 That knows no change or tide, until 
 Man's disobedience shall fear 
 Its own self-will, and God revere. — 
 For time had well nigh sped its course 
 
 Of sin, self-righteous, self-condemn'd, 
 And Christianity's pure source 
 
 Was clearing out its springs, late stemm'd 
 By noisome fiJtli of Papal Rome, 
 That foul'd the very soul of home. — 
 Yet now, e'en thi'ough th' horizon's gloom, 
 That mark'd the pathway to the tomb, 
 
 A beam from that pure day-spring's light, 
 Cheering our martyrs to the fight, 
 Forewam'd the close of Papal night. 
 But not alone on Britain's shore 
 God's martyr'd saints the torture bore. 
 By Eome inflicted : — mark the page, 
 Blacken'd with persecution's rage.
 
 82 
 
 Against those sainted souls of France, 
 Who dar'd, despite of Koman lance, 
 To wield their Bibles : — who shall tell 
 How Germany and Spain did swell 
 The Eeformation's mighty wave ? — 
 How nobly Switzerland did save 
 
 The exil'd of the world ? 
 How Italy herself did brave 
 The Roman Pontiff to the gi-ave. 
 
 And Jesu's truth unfurl'd ? — 
 
 V. 
 
 The dungeons of Bocardo's tow'r 
 
 Were open'd at th' appointed hour. 
 
 For holy Inquisition's train, 
 
 (Holy indeed, where devils reign,) 
 
 And cowls, and hoods, and mitred priests, 
 
 FeU harbingers of saintly feasts. 
 
 With crucifix and beads in hand 
 
 March'd slowly forth, a ghastly band, 
 
 Protected on their murd'rous way 
 
 By halberdiers in close array. — 
 
 There, fronting Baliol's CoUege-green, 
 
 Friai-s and Eremites were seen, 
 
 A motley throng, with eyes of guile, 
 
 Guile, such as Satan in a smile 
 
 Grins horribly, yet sighs the while : —
 
 83 
 
 The Martyrs' Pyre. 
 There in their shrouds those martyi's stood, 
 
 Their grey hairs waving in the air. 
 Through faith they gave to Christ their blood 
 In one united solemn pray'r, 
 
 Though bound to stake by iron chain 
 Religion's freedom to regain. 
 
 They fir'd the pile, they stirr'd the flame. 
 
 With malice mark'd by saintly show, 
 And, while they offer'd safety's fame, 
 
 Fear'd, lest their vengeance shoidd forego 
 Its glutting in those tortur'd men, 
 Who dar'd Rome's infamy to stem. — 
 
 Again they heap'd the blazing fire, 
 
 To vsTTUg thro' agonizing pain 
 Some feint contrition of desire 
 
 From soids, they dar'd not meet again ; 
 But no : — the stem rebuke was stiU, 
 " God wiU not tempt above his will,"— 
 
 WUdly the fagot's blaze was wrapt 
 Around those aged English brows. 
 
 Vain did those prowling monks adapt 
 Soft words of sorrow to their woes ;
 
 84 
 
 Yet still they heard, " Avaunt, ye crew !— 
 We pray to God through Christ for you." 
 
 Madden'd, they stirr'd the smould'ring blaze, 
 Till their swoln bodies grasp'd their chains, 
 And while each shrinking limb would raise 
 Through writhing sinews' dreadfvd pains 
 Its blacken'd remnants ; — stUl they hear 
 Our Latimer his brother cheer. — 
 
 " Cheer, brother Ridley, cheer ! we've lit 
 
 " A brand, that never vnll expire, 
 " No pow'r of Antichrist shall sit 
 " In judgment o'er our country's fire, 
 '' The fire of Gospel's liberty, — 
 Cheer then ! our country will be free." 
 
 Man could no more : — God's will be done : — 
 
 Eome's idols they had scom'd in death, 
 One race together had they run. 
 
 Together had resign'd their breath : — 
 One wreath of smoke had told in heav'n 
 How for their country's weal in pray'r they'd striv'n. 
 
 VI. 
 
 Think you, tis idle to believe, 
 That pray'r of holy men receive
 
 85 
 
 Such full accomplishment £i-om heay'u 
 Commensurate with sin forgiv'n, 
 As faith is justified to ask 
 
 Of Chiist, who promis'd to befriend. 
 And, when he set the gentle task, 
 
 Assur'd his spirit to the end ? — 
 Think' st thou, those martyrs' ashes tell 
 No tale to warn, how wild, how fell. 
 Is stem oppression's chain, when she 
 Is guis'd in priesthood's mockery ? — 
 Not so : — that pray'r, fi'om out the grave, 
 StiU bids her sons religion save 
 
 From Eome's portentous mien ; 
 Nor do those ashes plead in vain, 
 One stiH tirm voice is heard amain, 
 
 " Our Bible and our Queen:" — 
 Nay ; — from those glaring fires arose 
 A voice, amidst his biting woes, 
 Bidding his countiy never cease 
 To rear, endow, protect, increase 
 Its Granamar-Schools throughout the laud. 
 Bulwarks of pow'r against the hand, 
 That would with infamy's dire brand 
 Our Bible burn, God's help withstand 
 — Hence, Lady Cooke, thy widow'd soul 
 Bow'd humbly to thy Cod's control
 
 86 
 
 Through Kidley's mighty pray'r, 
 In faith thou rear'dst that Grammar-School 
 And call'dst thy Gloucester's christian rule 
 
 Thy noble work to share. 
 Brief months had pass'd, — another pile 
 Was blazing fierce through Jesuit guile, 
 And Cranmer on the self same spot, 
 That Eome might never be forgot, 
 Gave to his God the soul he'd giv'n, 
 And through a fiery grave sought heav'n : - 
 And smoke ascending told the tale 
 
 Of Britain's woes to every gale. 
 That swept each ocean- wave : — 
 
 — It is not surely past belief 
 To think how deep was angels' grief. 
 How great their love to save, 
 
 To save — a worid oppress'd with shame, 
 
 Strufo-lins:, through blood, for freedom's fame, 
 
 Struggling, religion to set free 
 
 From Papal Rome's idolatry ? — 
 
 O then — it is not past belief 
 
 To speak of angels' love and grief: — 
 
 But time had wing'd its flight, and now 
 
 Death sat upon the regal brow 
 Of Britain's hapless Queen ; 
 
 Through years of woe her life had sped.
 
 87 
 
 She rests amid the mighty dead, — 
 Her virtues God has seen. 
 
 VII. 
 
 Hast thou e'er felt the mind's recoil, 
 When worn by sickness, crush'd by toil. 
 It seems again to breathe awhile. 
 And see through lengthen'd vista's smile 
 Its distant glimmering of hope, 
 
 Well nigh extingmsh'd by the blast, 
 That adverse baffles it to cope 
 
 Against the die, it thought, was cast : — 
 And yet, when all seem'd dread and^ drear, 
 
 God show'd the path — and aU was clear. 
 E'en thus his Britain seem'd to stay 
 Its breath, through Edward's happy sway, 
 TiU, bow'd through wi-etchedness, to feel 
 No respite, from the fiery zeal 
 Of his successor, it forebore 
 All hope in freedom to adore, 
 And, through its Saviour, God implore : — 
 So dark, so dismal was the gloom, 
 That shrouded ev'ry martyr's tomb. — 
 But as in days of sore distress, 
 Through Jewish King's idolatry,
 
 88 
 
 Elijah rov'd the sole witness 
 
 Of God's own Churcli's purity.— 
 E'en thus was heard o'er Britain's strand 
 The soul-drawn strain of holy pray'r, 
 The pray'r of few, a faithful band, 
 
 That watchful felt 'twas theirs to dare 
 The wildest torture Kome could bring, 
 To choke religion's vital spring, — 
 Daring they fought their fight and fell, — 
 Eome through the gloaming heard its knell, 
 
 God's truth had pierc'd its night ; 
 The mind unfetter'd seem'd to wake 
 From a long di-eadful dream, and take 
 
 Fresh courage from the light. — 
 One shout broke through the morning's grey,- 
 Echo, o'er hill and dale away. 
 
 Responded — " Britain's free :" — 
 The notes caught up by ev'iy breeze, 
 Wafted the tale across the seas 
 Of Christian liberty : — 
 So bright so glorious a morn 
 Burst on the Reformation's dawn. 
 
 vni. 
 
 O might 1 on poetic wing 
 
 Soar in the vision of that bard,
 
 89 
 
 Whom, roaming 'midst its faiiy ring, 
 
 His own sweet lyre did fondly guard : — 
 Borne on that wing, how would my soul 
 
 With Moore's lov'd spirit seek to rove, 
 Where wildly o'er thy breakers roll, 
 
 Dear Erin, all the heart can love : — 
 Free wast thou once, and pure, and bright, 
 Ere o'er thee fell the gloom of night, 
 The gloom of ignorance and sin, 
 That handmaid of the thoughts within. 
 That wrung such agonizing cry, 
 As neither wave could stay, nor sky. — 
 'Twas dead of night, th' alaioim peal'd — 
 "Up to the rescue," — "freedom's seal'd 
 " For thine own sister, Erin's isle, 
 " On her too wiU the Spirit smile ; — 
 " And time is on the wing, when she 
 " Shall break her shackles, and be free, 
 " Free from Rome's gaUing tyranny :" — 
 'Twas dead of night, yet Britain's Queen, 
 
 From out the silence of her tow'r 
 In secret pray'r across the scene. 
 
 Was heard her fidl heart's vows to show'r, 
 And Erin's cry from off the waste 
 (Jf piUow'd ocean, bade her haste 
 To free that beauteous gem.
 
 90 
 
 Sleep fled at that appalling cry, 
 God's grace assur'd its presence nigh. 
 
 That miseiy to stem : — 
 It pass'd ; — the will of heav'n was known. 
 
 And Britain's Queen on bended knee 
 Again in pray'r sought heav'n's throne. 
 To bless the precious seed thus sown. 
 
 And cause her Erin so be free. — 
 And now th' horizon's dew-lit grey 
 
 Greeted with holy kiss of love 
 The spangles of the blushing day, 
 
 That thus their orisons above 
 They might conjointly pour to heav'n, 
 The safeguard of a world forgiv'n : 
 When at the earliest matin's bell 
 Forth bounded England's caravel ; — 
 A flag of peace wav'd o'er her sails 
 
 Wafted by vows of Britain's Queen ; — 
 " Haste, haste," she cried, " no spirit quails,- 
 
 " God speeds your mission to that scene, 
 " My beauteous Erin shall be free, 
 "Free of her sister's liberty." — 
 
 The Mission-bark. 
 On sped the heav'n-sent bark its flight 
 
 Thi'ough the rippling curl it lov'd to raise. 
 And seem'd as the Mariner's hymn rose light. 
 
 To join iu its choir of earthly praise ;
 
 yi 
 
 And the sea-birds floated, mid suu-lit spray, 
 To catch the chant ere it died away. — 
 
 Still onwards it urg'd its westward course, 
 
 The track its first mission-teacher show'd, 
 And the pray'rs of England were now the source, 
 That swell'd the sails o'er the wave that glow'd, 
 For ever does heartfelt honest pray'r 
 Feel the Spirit's aid it has sununon'd there - 
 
 And day was waning, yet onwards still. 
 
 The trusty bark on its mission flew, 
 For the breeze of blessing its sails did fill, 
 And the mirror'd ocean its speed told true, 
 As the helmsman's hand, and the mariner's eye 
 Mark'd the setting sun on the western sky. — 
 
 And now the tints of an Autumn sky 
 Had pm-pled the gold of the setting sun. 
 When the Captain's summons to vespers nigh 
 Told the day was o'er, and their labom* done, 
 As softly floated their chanted pray'r 
 To the isle, they sought under heav'n's care. — 
 
 And the sails were reef d, and now gliding oi. 
 
 The moon-lit billows were seen to play. 
 And whisp'iing say, as they danc'd along, 
 
 God speed thee, bark, on thy heav'n-ward way ; 
 And the night-breeze stealing in coyness near 
 Kiss'd the glist'ning sails, it lov'd to bear.
 
 92 
 
 The watch was set, but no seaman's eye 
 
 Was clos'd that night on the silent deep ; 
 Each list'ning caught at the breeze's sigh, 
 
 To tell how the morning would rouse from sleep ; 
 For helmsman spoke of the land not far, 
 As hepeer'd thro' the gloom for the morning star. 
 Do you mark yon speck, off the starboard bow, 
 
 That looms through the light of the dazzling spray ? 
 — ' Tis the isle we seek ; — for the day-spring now 
 
 Had streak'd th' horizon with cloudless grey ; 
 And the matir-hymn broke forth anew, 
 To God who had shielded that mission-crew. — 
 And now, from the pride of her duty o'er, 
 That gallant bark in her beauty lay, 
 With sails close-furl'd by the western tow'r. 
 She rode like a swan within Dublin Bay ; 
 And the joyous city had caught the tale 
 That the bells peal'd merrily to the gale. 
 
 Away, — away, — o'er waste, and glen, 
 Erom Shannon's wave, and Nenagh's fen 
 From Glengary's hiUs, to Malin's head. 
 The mission's note had swiftly sped ; — 
 Had told the shades of Tara's hall 
 How God's free grace had heard their call ; 
 How list'ning waves round Achill's isle 
 Had caught a glimpse of its peaceftd smile,
 
 93 
 
 A smile, that cheer'd the patriot soul, 
 
 Cnish'd by the the pow'rs of mental night 
 That heeded only God's control, 
 
 And knew no grace but Jesu's might. — 
 Such christian spirits did their Queen 
 
 Summon to raise that holy pUe, 
 That gaUant bark, to such a scene 
 
 Commission'd, left her native isle, 
 And saw, ere she again at sea 
 Danc'd o'er the waves with heartful glee, 
 Her Erin's University : — 
 And there it tow'rs, a record true, 
 
 Of England's joy in Erin's weal, 
 Protesting to the wide world's view 
 
 Against the Koman Pontiff's zeal. 
 By teaching from the Bible's law. 
 
 The son's of Erin to aspire 
 To patriot's freedom that will draw 
 New faith, new virtue, new desire. 
 That lights the soul from heav'n's &e. 
 
 IX. 
 
 Surely you've seen, when early spring 
 
 Lures aU its wildest sweets to bring 
 
 Their holiest incense, in its coui'se 
 
 From heav'n, whence springs its beauty's source ;-
 
 94 
 
 You've seen adown the breathing vale, 
 Scented with softest spring-tide's gale, 
 The clust'i-ing bees on flow'ring thyme. 
 Rifling each bell in very prime, 
 A busy throng still urge their flight, 
 Fearing the chill of coming night : — 
 You've mark'd with what sagacious skill. 
 
 Neglecting every gaudy fiow'r 
 As though they said, such cannot fill 
 
 Our homes, that merely deck the bow'r, 
 They search beneath each leaflet's shade 
 Fearing to pass some honey'd glade. 
 Through haste untasted, useless made : — 
 And as you've watch'd their cupning art. 
 To cause each little sweet impart 
 Its bounden share of sunny spoil. 
 With which to recompense their toil. 
 You will have mark'd, in fancy's span. 
 Their one desire, united plan, 
 To aid those labours aU must give. 
 That love on labour's sweets to live. — 
 Such was that singleness of soul 
 Through fortunes, she could not control, 
 That made Elizabeth profess 
 Her faith in Chi-istian holiness ;— 
 That to her well-train'd mind had giv'u
 
 95 
 
 One thought, that seem'd to point to heav'n : — 
 
 That thi'ough those bee-like busy hives 
 
 Of Grammar Schools, where science strives 
 
 To teach its youth, through freedom's thought, 
 
 With what sure blessedness is fraught 
 
 The simple doctrine of Christ's Church 
 
 WTien drawn from the pure Bible's search, 
 
 That thus her throne might ever be 
 
 From ev'ry pow'r for ever free, 
 
 And rooted in her people's heart 
 
 IMight flourish, and new life impart. — 
 
 For train'd 'midst dire oppression's school. 
 
 That brook'd not toleration's nde, 
 
 Through bitter misgivings of soul 
 
 Her spiiit, spuming such control, 
 
 Had leam'd a holier flame to light. 
 
 To be the pyre of mental night ; — 
 
 To be that beacon, whence its fire 
 
 Her country's love might freely draw. 
 Whence children's children might aspire 
 
 To grace her schools in freedom's law; — • 
 That thus posterity might feel 
 Those blessings, that such schools would seal. 
 
 X. 
 
 Clear shone that beacon's blaze afar. 
 Gleaming from Windsor's royal tow'rs,
 
 96 
 
 As clown th' horizon, Brunswick's star 
 
 Cheer'd the lone gloom of coming hours ; — 
 A gloom, that scarce e'en martyr's pile 
 Could dissipate from England's isle. — 
 Yet now unshackl'd, free, alone, 
 Seeking it's strength at heav'n's throne, 
 Strength, that had taught it, meekly bear 
 Those honors, it so lov'd to share ; 
 Strength, that had rescued from the grave, 
 When there was stretch' d no arm to save : — 
 Thus sav'd, thus guarded, o'er the sea 
 It bade her wave-girt isles be free ; 
 And at her bidding was vmftirl'd 
 The flag, that stiU the christian world, 
 Cheers to the rescue : — Straight arose 
 
 One thrilling shout fi-om off the wav e, 
 Such as would daunt e'en freedom's foes. 
 
 Who would consign her to the grave ; 
 But now midst hope and love it threw 
 
 From rock, and tow'r, from field and glen, 
 Its sweetest peace-cry, as the dew 
 
 On sim-lit Britain rose again : — 
 And Samia's isle responsive nmg 
 To the free notes her Britain sung, 
 
 And raised her shackl'd arms ; 
 Boldly her spirit shook the chain,
 
 97 
 
 That long had cramp'd her 'midst the main, 
 
 From Gallia's wild alarms : — 
 
 Swift from each cavem'd ocean's cliif 
 
 Wild echo cheer'd the seaman's skiff, 
 
 Proudly to stem the breaker's roar, 
 
 And learn the freedom of his shore : — 
 
 While each wild wave in joyous show 
 Caught the warm breath of freedom's glow, 
 
 And rear'd a nobler crest, 
 As on the slopes of Samia's isle, 
 Arose aloft a gorgeous pile, 
 
 At its lov'd Queen's behest, 
 A pile, where learning's self may rule, 
 A pile, the boast of Britain's school. 
 
 XI. 
 
 might I gaze upon a sight. 
 Beyond the confines of the light. 
 That God to man hath fr-eely giv'n. 
 If man will humbly trust in heav'n ; 
 Nor seek to desecrate the gift 
 Of heav'n's free grace, nor proudly lift 
 SeK-righteous love and faith to vie, 
 Back'd with the world's cold pageantry, 
 With aU the glories of the sky : — 
 ! might I gaze, and gazing — tell 
 
 G
 
 98 
 
 In burning words, that love to dwell 
 On mem'ry's mucli scribbled page, 
 When he, who sung has serv'd his age, 
 And fall'n on sleep ;— then, what bliss 
 To read 'midst worlds mth gorgeousness 
 Glowing from myriad Sims, the truth 
 Fresh as in all primoeval youth 
 Of first Creation, that alone 
 Salvation is in mercy shewn. 
 O — 'twere a bliss to gaze, then teach 
 To Britain's youth, what honours reach 
 To heav'n's trust, what learning proves 
 Most fit for justice, what removes 
 Man from allegiance due, thence learn 
 Through what humility to turn 
 Man's knowledge on himself, and bring 
 His children to religion's spring. 
 And did thy country's God, to thee, 
 Om- maiden queen, in love bestow 
 Such foresight of that liberty, 
 
 As caus'd thy people to forego 
 The glittering pomp of earth's parade, 
 And seek religion's humbler shade ? — 
 Yes, 'mid thy shade fr'om sacred tow'r 
 Fondly thou reard'st the lowly bow'r 
 Of Westminster's lov'd school, to be
 
 99 
 
 Her country's pride, whence Britain free, 
 Free, through that pow'r her youth might train, 
 For a long length of future reign : — 
 Wlience taught in huml)le pray'r to bow 
 The knee to Christ, him dare confess, 
 Its youth might learn, and feel, and know, 
 
 That Grod alone can give and bless ; 
 Where too, while musing down those aisles. 
 
 O'er the memorials of the dead. 
 Think how their honour' d Queen still smiles 
 
 And cheers in duty's path to tread ; 
 "WTiile from each niche each hallow'd urn. 
 Summons its youth to God to turn. 
 And bids with patriot love to bum. 
 
 XII. 
 
 Twine then a holier wreath to grace 
 Those lam'els, that the royal race 
 Of sainted Kings for England's pride 
 Have won, through martyr's faith, and died : — 
 Theirs was a glorious career. 
 Glorious the faith they died to rear. 
 
 Glorious their mighty love ; — 
 E'en from their cradle's lisped pray'r, 
 Taught by a Christian Mother's care
 
 100 
 
 To seek their strength above : 
 Fondly they sought their countiy's weal, 
 And dar'd with British breath to seal 
 That charter, Rome could once reveal ; — 
 That charter — Rome in Spring-time gave 
 
 Her free-born sons in earliest bloom : — 
 " That patriots spurn'd their lives to save, 
 
 If Rome consign'd them to the tomb : — " 
 But then 'twas Rome, the bold, the free, 
 Rome proud in freedom's destiny, 
 — 'twere a noble work to trace 
 
 That holiest teaching of the heart, 
 Just bursting into Christian grace, 
 
 A British mother shall impart. 
 When at a Christian mother's knee 
 The babe is taught its liberty. — 
 Mothers ! arise ! 'tis yours to shed 
 A hallow'd peace around the head 
 
 Of Britain's Queen, she leads the van. 
 
 And cheers each mother to the task, 
 Yours is the noble path she ran, 
 
 In her fond nursing you may bask : 
 — Hence, Lancaster, no pm-er gem 
 In England's royal diadem 
 Shines brighter than your Grammar School, 
 The very nurse of Christian rule . — 
 God speed thee on the silent course
 
 101 
 
 Thy queen hath hallow'd at its source : — 
 But vain the teaching at that school, 
 Where mother's love hath ceas'd to rule 
 
 The workings of the heart : — 
 Vainly, e'en royal schools naay rise. 
 And point the pathway to the skies 
 
 ]\Iid kindest learning's art : — 
 The depths of science may be gain'd, 
 The world may laud the man enchain'd 
 
 By cold abstracted lore ; — 
 Nay ; — the more brilliant glows the sphere, 
 That shall such genius revere, 
 
 Self-love will gnaw the more ; — 
 E'en like the vampire's deadly bite. 
 That fascinates the Hve-lonsr night. 
 The babe, unconscious that its dream 
 Of angels, fanning there shoidd seem 
 
 The fore-taste of its joy : — 
 'Tis so ; — the world's applause falls chdl, 
 Nay ; — such a soul it cannot fill : — 
 
 No mother taught that boy. 
 
 XIII. 
 
 The mystic Spiriis of the dead 
 
 Still love those hallow'd seats, that led 
 
 The living breathing men to save
 
 102 
 
 Their country's glory, from the gi'ave 
 
 Of endless ignorance : — it raise 
 
 A beacon, lighted from the blaze 
 
 Of pure religion's holy ray, 
 
 That lights to heav'n, and points the way : — 
 
 Is it then strange, there should be known 
 
 On Britain's soil such holy men 
 To offer to their country's throne 
 
 Their all, that she might rise again 
 A brighter day-star than of yore, 
 To guide a world, its church restore ? — 
 And what ! though smile of regal pow'r 
 Grac'd not thy corner-stone of tow'r; — 
 What ! though no Queen, with nobler rule. 
 Stood nursing parent to thy school ; — 
 Their spirits minister'd the grace 
 
 Freely to give to God his own. 
 Their hearts as freely guard that place 
 
 As though they set its comer stone. 
 — Say, Eugby, wilt thou less revere 
 That sacred name, that simple bier 
 Thine own lov'd sheriff sought to rear, 
 And dar'd with patriot zeal to stem 
 Proud ignorance by himibler gem 
 Won from the regal diadem ? — 
 And say ye, whom the world's cold pride
 
 10 
 
 o 
 
 Has wean'd from hope, midst sorrow tried. 
 
 Shall Arnold's glory less approve 
 
 Its vii-tue to its country's love ? — 
 
 Not so ; the page of Britain's fame 
 
 More sacred glow'd, as o'er it came 
 
 The day-spring of a holier pride, 
 
 When merchant-princes graced the side 
 
 Of heav'n-train'd piety, to raise 
 
 Those Grammar Schools, where youth should praise 
 
 That God, who boundless in his might 
 
 Had drawn them from their mental night : 
 
 — And thus in simple guise they stand, 
 
 The handmaids of their Britain's chiu'ch. 
 Like gems upon that fabled strand, 
 
 Where the lost jewels of the deep, 
 
 Treasur'd in wild profusion, keep 
 One dazzling splendour o'er the land. 
 
 And need no cuiious eye to search. 
 And say — does Harrow's-Hill not joy 
 
 With all the fondness of a chdd, 
 When Lyon climb'd thee, as a boy, 
 
 And dying, saw thee midst the wild, 
 Crown'd with a glorj% that wiU rule 
 
 Tlie mightiest engine of the world ; 
 Yet bows, submissive in that school, 
 
 '\Yhere Chiist's pure banner is unfmTd ? — •
 
 104 
 
 And thy name, Sutton, happy son 
 Of happier parent, to have won 
 Such gift from heav'u, in mercy shewn. 
 Shall thus thy country's love make known, 
 Far as the farthest bounds of zeal 
 Can set its missionary seal. 
 That from thy charter'd school may spring 
 In long succession, who will bring 
 Faith, peace and joy in close array. 
 And teach a Gentile world through Christ to pray. 
 
 XIV 
 
 No surer veers the magnet's pow'r 
 
 To its true pole, tho' storms may low'r 
 
 Across th' horizon's glare, to be 
 
 The seaman's sole security ; — 
 
 No nestling, from a linnet's brood, 
 
 Seeking with half-fledg'd wing, where stood 
 
 Its parents' warm and downy nest. 
 
 When, 'scap'd from spoiler's selfish hand, 
 Is closer in its sorrows prest, 
 
 And OAvns its parents' just command ; — 
 Than to thine old time-honour'd seat, 
 Where Grongar's woods and wild retreat 
 EecaU those scenes of happier days, 
 
 Of school-boy's joys, and hopes, and fears,
 
 105 
 
 And fancy yearning turns to gaze, 
 Ere it be summon'd from the tears 
 Of sorrowing friends, and fondly sees 
 
 In the bright min'or memory gives, 
 Full many a name, upon those trees, 
 
 That, carv'd in sunny youth, still lives : 
 But they, my playmates — Wliere are they ? 
 No forms across the mirror stray. 
 — Well may such love be nurs'd by thee, 
 Pluck'd from Rome's pow'r, to be free. 
 Sweet Felstead — where the mildest sway. 
 
 That ever woman's love coidd wield, 
 Taught her fond children that the way 
 
 To heav'n's shrine was e'er to shield 
 Religious faith, and virtue's name. 
 From a proud world in arms for fame. 
 And keep them spotless as they came. 
 And say who've quail'd before that brow 
 
 That knew no guile, that spurn'd a lie. 
 Whose justice sure, was ever slow 
 
 To punish, but with weeping eye ; 
 Whose love, e'en like the deepest mine 
 The deeper wrought, did deeper shine, 
 
 And lead to heav'n's purity. 
 
 O'er thy lov'd ashes I might weep, 
 
 If thou hadst taught me soar no higher ;
 
 100 
 
 But no, lov'd master, I will keep 
 
 My mind intent on heavenly fire ; 
 For e'en to heaven thou couldst not go 
 Alone, and leave on earth below 
 
 Those youthful souls, thou didst inspire. 
 I may not desecrate this page, 
 
 Devoted by my grateful heart, 
 Or laud thy name to future age 
 
 Midst those, whose tears can never start ;- 
 Thy sUent path on earth forbade 
 Thy living virtues to be clad 
 
 In language, that might praise impart. 
 Away, then, monumental urn, 
 
 Thou with the world wilt sure decay. 
 Away, with glowing words that bum, 
 
 And grateful hearts in homage pay : — 
 Thy glory, like the vestal fire. 
 Our children's children shall desire, 
 
 And kindle into brighter day. 
 
 ! I would stay my thoughts ; but no , 
 The soul long-pent wiU not forego 
 
 Its offering of love : 
 For still it hovers o'er each scene, 
 Still owns, that aU its joys have been 
 
 Drawn from that source above.
 
 107 
 
 And now, that o 'er that Grammar School 
 A faithful spirit shoiikl have rule — 
 
 This hand had helped to rear ; 
 That this same happy, holy mind, 
 In Christian wisdom sweetly kind. 
 
 And vice alone must fear. 
 Should be the guardian of that home. 
 Seems Hke the dream, that loves to come 
 Mid day-dawn's vigils, when the soul. 
 Joyous, roams free from aU control. 
 
 To scan its mercy giv'n: —   
 God speed thee in thy mission's might, 
 ! may thy simshine know no night. 
 
 To slu'oud its future heav'n. 
 
 XV. 
 
 O there is comfort in the thought, 
 
 That all the mercies God has giv'n, 
 Are but mere shadows, those have sought, 
 Wlio here await the prize of heav'n ; — 
 Who feel, that each new rising day. 
 That brings its trouble, is the ray. 
 That leads their chasten'd minds to prize 
 New blessings opening to their eyes. 
 E'en thus it seem'd a work of love. 
 Of ease, thus gently to remove,
 
 i08 
 
 The jaded spirits from the reign 
 Of murd'ring schoolboy's dismal lore, 
 
 O're Homer's page and Virgil's strain, 
 And thus its patience to restore : — 
 
 Thus, had I dreamt, but vain the dream. 
 My rest did still unfolding seem 
 
 To bring new labour, like the flow'r 
 Closing its evening, though in death. 
 
 Till morning's sun, with early show'r, 
 Shall of its fellow scent the breath, — 
 
 E'en thus, each school my fancy told, 
 
 How vain the effort to be bold. 
 
 In works above the price of gold : 
 
 Thus foil'd, I fain would crave yoiu: mead 
 
 Of pardon, granted, if it's need 
 
 Proves itself worthy of the boon. 
 
 Oft giv'n, forgotten oft — too scon : — 
 For how shall timid song rehears 3, 
 Or laud your love in glowing verse, 
 Ye Grammar-Schools, that o'er the land 
 
 Sow the ripe seeds of Christian grace ? 
 And as kind Nature's gentler hand 
 
 Gives strength of stem, the storm to face ;- 
 Thus ye, each in yoiu- own career. 
 Teach early faith to blossom there: — 
 Your name too, legion ; — Who shall dare
 
 109 
 
 Profane your hallow 'd slxrines, that bear 
 Such living incense to the soui-ce 
 Of ligM and truth, as in their course 
 Would save a world ? — I would fain 
 Launch forth my bark upon tlie main, 
 And seek each happy distant spot, 
 The world nor heeds, and favours not, 
 And there, in guise of simple rule, 
 Find some time-haUow'd Grammar-School. 
 
 O shades of honour'd men ! — whose life 
 Thus grac'd the land, that gave you birtii. 
 
 Yours is a fame, no death, no strife. 
 Nor time can e'er efface from earth ; — 
 
 Yours was the mighty love to found. 
 To rear, endow with ample store. 
 Where humble science, learning sound 
 Might, on the base of Christian lore, 
 Teach wond'ring nations to exclaim : — 
 " Peace is the fruit of learning's fame." 
 
 XVI 
 
 God would not that the tortur'd soul. 
 That died, despite his wealth's control. 
 Should re-appear on eartlily scene, 
 To paint with writhing frenzied mien 
 The endless agony of tii-e,
 
 110 
 
 The worm, th' avenger of his ire ; — 
 That thus, his brethren he might move, 
 Lest they should forfeit Heaven's love. 
 — God said, enough was giv'n to tell. 
 How lose a heaven, or gain a hell : — 
 And is it stiU e'en thus ? — 'tis so, — 
 Still wilder thi-eats, stiU surer woe, 
 Await that monstrous thing of sin. 
 That knows no God, but seK within : — 
 ! the blood curdles at the fate 
 Of such, as heed, nor care, but hate 
 The very oflfring of that Lord, 
 Whose mercy has thrice-bless'd their hoard : 
 How must such heart be sear'd, and chill. 
 
 That never felt the thrilling tear, 
 That of God's wealth has drank its hll, 
 
 Yet dropp'd no offering o'er the bier. 
 That shades with monumental woe. 
 The aid, its orphans must forego? 
 — Say ye, whose golden stores are won. 
 
 E'en from the sinews of that band, 
 Whose daily bread, at setting sun, 
 
 Just holds their life from mouth to hand 
 Have these no souls for heav'n to save. 
 No God beyond theii- humble grave ? — 
 Who has not 'midst these children seen,
 
 Ill 
 
 The embryo-butls of future might, 
 E'en while their Uttle forms have been 
 
 Encompass'd by a chilling night ? 
 Have seen their giant minds to soar 
 To holier graces than before ? 
 These, form tbe mighty of the world, 
 These, make religion's truth unfurl' d. 
 
 Such youth their country needs ; — 
 Endow then, with no sparing hand, 
 Your Grammar-Schools, that through each laud 
 
 The world may see your deeds ; 
 And, thus, it may be taught to bring 
 A holier offering to the spring. 
 Whence flows that stream of faitlifd joy. 
 No di-ought can waste, no time destroy. 
 O ! — I would di'aw the veil of night 
 
 O'er those dear schools, whose grey stones tell 
 Of years gone past, of chilling blight. 
 
 That mock'd their efforts to rise well 
 Upon the breeze, that past tbem bore 
 Those sources of endoA\Tnent's store. 
 But no : — my duty bids me lay 
 One charge of parting pray'r — and stay 
 The hand of wealth, ere now the grave 
 Shall rifle, what it died to save. — 
 And shall the spirit of your Leigh
 
 112 
 
 His Wigan Grammar-School not guard ? — 
 Shall none be found, iu this om- day, 
 To save its antique masonry. 
 
 And look to heav'n for his reward ? 
 And shall the very stones for shame. 
 Crumbling to parent dust, proclaim 
 No hand was stretch'd to stem the wave. 
 And bid it time's slow vengeance brave ? 
 — It may not be ; — some humble soul 
 WiE dare to meet the torrent's roll, 
 Will love the school their Woodcock* sought, 
 
 Will shew the very spot he stood. 
 And where he knelt, and pray'd, and taught. 
 
 And fed his poor with heav'nly food, 
 
   Thomas Woodcock, Esq., died November 6th, 1850, 
 and was gathered to his fathers, in the parish Church of Wigan, 
 attended by the affectionate sorrow of the whole town. He 
 was elected Governor of the Wigan Grammar School, May 18th 
 1813, from which period he had ever warmly espoused its best 
 interests, and had long been desirous to see exhibitions founded 
 for the purpose of sending its pupils to the Universities. He had 
 also at his own personal expense and labour established an 
 Adult Sunday School, from which immense advantages have 
 been continually reaped : in this latter labour he was assisted 
 by his sons, through whose liberality the Schools are still 
 carried on. Mr. Woodcock, therefore, was one of those few 
 the memory of whom, now taken from us, we would express 
 a hope that we too in the language of Tacitus 
 " Similitudine decoremus."
 
 113 
 
 What hand of Wigau will not bring 
 Some tribute to his memoi-y's love ? 
 
 That thus his honor'd name may ring 
 Wide as the mission's zeal shall rove, 
 
 And his lov'd Grammar School may be, 
 
 The pride of Wigan's industry. 
 
 XVII. 
 
 Amid her clust'ring vernal bow "rs. 
 
 Where Nature in profusion show'rs 
 The scented grandeui" of her love, 
 And shews Creation's God above, 
 You've mark'd how every flow'r and tree. 
 Brighter in glory as more free, 
 Veils all its pride, as though it felt 
 The Godhead's presence, that had dealt 
 Its bounteous mercy through the storm. 
 
 That wildly swept from nature's face, 
 AH that would proudly not conform. 
 
 Nor bow, to 'scape their last disgrace ; 
 And shall then man, whose years are brief, 
 Far briefer than the oaken leaf. 
 
 That glows when he is gone. 
 Shall man, the friended of God's world. 
 Not humbly wave the flag unfurl' d
 
 114 
 
 To honor God alone ? 
 Yes ; — the same spirit that hath said, 
 " Pride is not man's," has gently laid 
 Another precept on the soul, 
 Its selfish efforts to control, 
 " That who hath nobly serv'd his end 
 " Does to a crown immortal tend, 
 "Through time's eternity shall glow 
 " Yet brighter, as God's worlds shall flow." 
 Hence — to fulfil this grand design, 
 Kings in their might have dar'd combine. 
 And merchant-princes too have striv'n, 
 To raise their country's cause to heav'n ; 
 To rear in long and length'ning pile. 
 The Grammar-Schools of Britain's isle : — 
 And bade them nobly meet the storm, 
 That scathes religion's living form : — 
 And have not these fulfill' d the plan 
 Prompt'd by God, design'd by man ? — 
 That to their coimtry's summons gave 
 Souls — that wildest death did brave. 
 That its lov'd freedom they might save : — 
 Souls — that the muse from heav'n has fir'd, 
 And Gospel-liberty inspir'd. 
 To tune their harps to notes as free 
 As breezes off the Southern sea ?
 
 115 
 
 Souls — that the fever's noisome breath, 
 And plague, and pestilence, and death, 
 Have nobly steram'd, and calm'd the while 
 Tin nature's healthful face could smile ? 
 Souls — that the love of Christ has train'd 
 
 By holier ties than man can weave, 
 On savage lands, self-exil'd, chain' d, 
 
 Their bones without a grave to leave, 
 
 Or friend their latest pray'r receive ? — 
 Souls— that with truthfnl daring hand 
 Urg'd by God's love, have pluck'd the brand 
 From lawless violence and crime, 
 
 That kings could scarce control, 
 And, dauntless, mid sedition's time. 
 
 Spurning the bribe that crush' d the soul, 
 Have hurl'd defiance in its prime 
 
 Of lansruasre, clad with thunder's roll ? 
 
 xvm 
 
 — might those dreamy loves of childhood's hour, 
 That hallow'd teaching of a mother's pow'r, 
 StiQ form the visions of maturer thought, 
 Shadow'd in aU those hues, that nature caught 
 From first creation's glorj', how the mind 
 Would in yon nether sky some haven find.
 
 116 
 
 Some beauteous spot, some soft Elysian bow'r, 
 Whence the expanded soul its love might show'r 
 O'er all those paths, which living it had trod- — 
 O'er all those ties, that bound it to its God : — 
 Thence o'er its country shine a native star, 
 Thence guide its councils, breathing peace for war. 
 
 Nurs'd by such teaching on a mother's knee, 
 Soon learns the Babe to lisp, in pray'r-ful glee, 
 Its heavenly purpose to ascend the sky, 
 And for its prize win immortality. 
 — Nor does such teaching cease with childhood's dream, 
 Still does our mother through owe boyhood seem 
 To point to heav'n's bliss, still lead the way, 
 StiU aid the Grammar-school's momentous sway. 
 To cheer the meek with sympathetic smile. 
 To blanch the coward's cheek, and spmn its guile, 
 To stay the tyrant's hand, that would control 
 And wither every nobleness of soid, 
 To know no fear, to hear but duty's call, 
 And grateftd own its God supreme in aU. 
 — Rear'd in such teaching, well may Britain's youth 
 Bead in the star-lit heav'ns its cradled truth. 
 That each fond spirit, freed from earthly care 
 Of duty nobly dar'd, will freely share 
 In heav'n's immensity some enthrf^Hng bliss, 
 And watch, a guardian-star, its happiness.
 
 Ill 
 
 — ^Thus when o'er Chatham's bier a nation shed 
 Its tears, a faithful tribute to the dead, 
 Who saw not, that same hour, one jewell'd star 
 Shine forth more dazzling, where th' horizon far, 
 Midst the wild waves of continental strife, 
 Seem'd to engulph the germ of Britain's life ? 
 Till Chatham's call to duty rous'd the land, 
 Awak'd the tocsin slumb'ring through its strand, 
 And through his country's senate borne along, 
 With d}ing breath denounc'd the oppressor's wrong. 
 
 Duty ! — maiden Queen, fi-om heav'n above, 
 Say, from what source thou draw'stthy mighty love? 
 O. say, at whose behest, each mother rears 
 Its babe for thy dread service, that endears 
 Its every toil, its care, its joy, its bfe. 
 All for thy hallow'd call, thy sacred strife : — 
 And did the Grammar-school not faithful prove 
 To him, thy other son of happiest love ? — 
 Did she not fan the flame, a heav'n espous'd, 
 A mother cherish'd, and a Chatham rous'd ? 
 Yes — he was nobly reard, and school'd, thence led 
 By Duty's self to brave oppression's head. 
 By heav'n summon'd, he bade his ocean's isle 
 To fear not Gallia's threats, nor Denmark's guile, 
 His Britain's banner to the breeze unfurl'd, 
 And in his patriot-fire defied the world : —
 
 118 
 
 Stem duty call'd, her Nelson led the way. 
 And fell a victor in Trafalgar's bay ; — 
 Still did his spirit love the wild sea's foam, 
 Still shed new lustre on his Britain's homa, 
 Still lead the seaman's eye, still guide the helm, 
 Stdl shine a brighter star o'er Britain's realm. 
 While wond'ring Europe, through a nation's tears, 
 Mafk'd Chatham, Nelson, to dispel its fears, 
 Two beauteous stars, amid the lurid gloom, 
 To chase the darkness brooding o'er the tomb. 
 — Nor did they shine in vain, far India saw 
 Their new-born brilliance with prophetic awe, 
 Eush'd to the fight to save its idol-pow'r. 
 And found a tyrant's grave beneath its tow'r. 
 
 Again in hideous guise the fury sped, 
 Hurl'd her red torch to whelm the peaceful head 
 Of Europe, madden'd by the iron sway 
 Of him, no realms could glut, no power stay : — 
 Her sorrows Britain heard, "Enough," she said, 
 "Away my son, stern duty calls, — be dead, 
 " — Dead to soft pleasure's voice ; your country's weal 
 " Demands your holiest love — your holiest zeal : — 
 " At duty's call bid eveiy selfish thought 
 " Vanish from out thy breast, with glory fraught, 
 " Spiu-n the mild dalliance of seductive pow'r, 
 " And look to heav'n alone, when tempests lovv'r.''
 
 119 
 
 — She spoke — her bidding brook'd no fond delay, 
 
 The storm had nish'd, and empires swept away : — 
 
 Amidst a gallant band his pennon flew, 
 
 Still check' d the route, stiU yielded to pursue, 
 
 And while with eagle glance he scann'd the flood, 
 
 Eefus'd to triumph at the cost of blood; — 
 
 Deem'd every soul for its dear countiy giv'n. 
 
 If lost, a dread account for him with heav'n. 
 
 Yet — onwards was the cry, still duty caUs, 
 
 The tyrant threatens — Europe's freedom falls ; — 
 
 Vengeance demands — no peace can bless the land, 
 
 Where madness rales the sway of labour's hand ; 
 
 StiU must the foeman meet the foeman's steel, 
 
 And still must British blood the conquest seal ; 
 
 Till Gallia vanquish'd by Britannia's son 
 
 Own'd the dread power of mighty Wellington ;— 
 
 And grateful shar'd the peace she would have riv'n 
 
 E'en from a world in arms — despite of heav'n. 
 
 What ! though his sword be sheath'd, that curb'd a world 
 
 What ! though his banner be no more unfurl'd. 
 
 Calm as midst roar of battle, calmer still 
 
 At duty's voice he learns the sov'reign will 
 
 Of his lov'd country's senate, and thus guides 
 
 Obedient to its call, the power that chides ;-- 
 
 Still to his latest breath submissive yields, 
 
 And dies the victor of a hundi-ed fields.
 
 120 
 
 And shall their Britain stay her thrilling tear, 
 A world has hallow'd o'er her patriot's bier ? 
 Shall those lov'd names from Britain's memory glide, 
 Their country ever heard with holy pride ? — 
 Long, as the ocean wave shall girt their isle, 
 And ev'ning's gilded sun in beauty smile, 
 Long, as the early dew shall gem each meed, 
 And night's dread grandeur on her silence feed, 
 So long each mother, fir'd with holy fame, 
 Win teach her babe to lisp each patriot's name — 
 Will to her infant's gaze, at eve's still hour, 
 Point, in their zenith's orb, to that bless'd pow'r. 
 That sav'd a world, by mad oppression driv'n 
 To spuni the laws, of man, reject its heav'n : — 
 Point to those stars that cheer each British son — 
 Chatham, and Nelson, with their Wellington. 
 And there in glowing harmony they shine 
 Emblems of filial power, — and love to twine 
 Around their Grammar-schools, where duty's light 
 Arous'd their souls to hallow virtue's flight. 
 To twine their triple star — one priceless gem, — 
 And form the wreath of Britain's diadem. 
 
 XIX 
 
 'Twas eve, yet still the setting sun, 
 Ling'ring to tell its love-lorn tale,
 
 Sigh'd as it gaz'd o'er laurels won, 
 
 And o'er them breath'd its parting wail ; — 
 The brow you lov'd to twine is chill, 
 
 Cease laurels, cease, it must not be, 
 To woo each zephyr from the hiU, 
 
 Each coyest breeze from off the sea ; — 
 Weep, laurels, o'er your soldier's bed, 
 The hand that planted you is dead, — 
 
 Yet stiU one gaze o'er Walmer's keep. 
 
 Ere he could part for ocean's deep, 
 
 And leave in death a son asleep: — 
 
 No, not in death — from darkling sky, 
 
 True to its duty's call on high, 
 A coronal of Uving light 
 Burst on the woe-bewilder'd sight 
 
 Of Britain's weeping Queen: 
 Weeping a friend, who ne'er had fail'd, 
 Weeping for him a world bewad'd, 
 
 Yes, lady, thou wast seen : — 
 To thee, as e'en to aU thine own, 
 
 One God had shard his grace. 
 That thou, from thy time-honour'd throne, 
 
 Thine, from their humbler place. 
 Should, from those tears our God has giv'n, 
 Find peace on earth, their rest in heav'o. 
 
 On such an eve, it well became
 
 122 
 
 The crown of Christendom's bright hope. 
 To peer beyond her star-lit reign, 
 
 And seek, mid destiny's wide scope, 
 What blessings might in part avail. 
 To ease the pangs of Britain's wail 
 
 For him thus lost ; 
 Surely her pray'r was heard above, 
 For aid to weU direct her love, 
 
 Nor count its cost. 
 In giving for her people's weal 
 Some pious boon that aU might feel, 
 And thus their gratitude reveal ; — 
 
 And what ! if when her Britain's star 
 
 With triple lustre beam'd afar, 
 To guard its future son ; 
 What ! if inspir'd by duty's rule, 
 She rear'd a regal Grammar-school, 
 
 
 Enshrin'd to WeUington, 
 
 
 * 
 
 « 
 
 * 
 
 » 
 
 * 
 
 * 
 
 * 
 
 * 
 
 * 
 
 * 
 
 * 
 
 * 
 
 * 
 
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 * 
 
 Three centuries have flown, yet stiU 
 The same wild spirit, as of yore, 
 
 Spiu-ning the freedom of God's will. 
 Braves the world's banner as before :- -
 
 123 
 
 O God ! ill mercy spare this scene. 
 That threatens with imperious mien 
 
 To menace Heav'n, and earth defy ; 
 Tliine is the only might to stay 
 In thy good time the liideous sway, 
 
 Home seeks in scarlet braveiy. — 
 Pray'r, too, of faith must aid the pow'r 
 Still waving from the beacon tow'r, 
 
 Her Britain dares to raise, 
 Then strengthen, Grammar-schools, those loves, 
 Your Queen demands, your God approves, 
 
 Your country's freedom prays : — 
 For faith of Keformation's flood 
 
 Again 'midst anguish must be tried, 
 And Britain's strand with martyr'd blood, 
 
 If God so wills it, must be dy'd : — 
 Onward ; — the watchword of our fight. 
 Is still—" May God defend the right." 
 
 THE END. 
 
 D. Thomas, Printer, Wigan.
 
 BY TSi: SAlUi: AUTHOR 
 
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