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 THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES
 
 a^ e g I u a I ti W t V t, 
 
 A TALE OF THE CIVIL WARS 
 
 IN VERSE. 
 
 WITH NOTES HISTORICAL AND ILLUSTRATIVE. 
 
 UY THE 
 
 REV. FREDERICK WOODS MANT, B.A, 
 
 AUTHOR OF THE 'UUBI.' 
 
 V What man so wise, what earthly witt so ware, 
 As to discry the crafty cunning traine 
 By which Deceipt doth maske in visour falre. 
 And cast her coulours died deep in graine 
 To seem like Truth whose shape she well can fainc, 
 Aiad fitting gestures to her purpose fi-ame, 
 The guiltlesse man with guile to entertaine ? 
 
 Spencer's Fairie Queme, book, i. canto vii. stanza 1. 
 
 OXFORD, 
 JOHN HENRY PARKER; 
 
 AND 377, STRAND, LONDON, 
 MDCCCXLVIIf.
 
 o.MOKI) : 
 ritlNTt'.li t:v I. silltlMI'TUN.
 
 PK 
 
 H^7^ 
 
 IT WOULD HAVE BEEN 
 
 A SOUECE OF GREAT GKATIFICATION TO THE AUTHOR 
 
 (had IT BEEN SO PERMITTED) 
 
 THAT, AS 
 A FORMER LITTLE WORK 
 WAS DEDICATED TO 
 ONE RESPECTED PARENT, 
 
 so 
 
 ITS SUCCESSOR 
 MIGHT HAVE BORNE THE NAME OF ANOTHER, 
 
 NOT LESS BELOVED : 
 
 IT HAS HOAVEVER BEEN OTHERWISE ORDERED 
 
 BY AN ALL-AVISE PROVIDENCE, 
 
 A N D 
 
 HE CAN NOW ONLY INSCRIBE 
 
 THIS PRESENT TALE XO 
 
 The Memory of 
 
 HIS .MOTHER. 
 
 922016
 
 PEEFACE. 
 
 The scene of this tale is laid in the north of England, 
 with the exception of the events recorded in the third 
 canto, which are supposed to have taken place near Bath. 
 The story commences in the early part of the month 
 of July, in the year 1643, and concludes in the month 
 of September, 1644, a period of fifteen months, of 
 which three are occupied in the immediate action, the 
 remaining twelve being transiently noticed at the con- 
 clusion. 
 
 Of the three months of action, two ai-e consumed in 
 the progress of the siege, related in the fifth canto, part II. 
 
 The editions of the works principally referred to in the 
 notes are, " Foxes and Firebrands, or a Specimen of the 
 Danger and Harmony of Popery and Separation," the 
 second Edition, in two parts. Dublin, printed by Jos. 
 Ray, for Jos. Howes, 1682. 
 
 " The History of the Rebellion and Civil Wars in 
 England, by Edward, Earl of Clarendon, some time Lord 
 High Chancellor of England." Oxford, at the Clarendon 
 Press, 1807. 
 
 " An Attempt towards recovering an Account of the 
 Numbers and Sufferings of the Clergy of the Church of 
 England, Heads of Colleges, Fellows, Scholars, &c., who 
 were sequestered, harrassed, kc. in the late times of the 
 Grand RebeUion : by John Walker, M.A., Rector of St. 
 Mary's the More, in Exeter, and some time Fellow of 
 Exeter College hi Oxford." London, 1714.
 
 VI PREFACE. 
 
 With respect to the first-named work, it is right to 
 apprize the readers, that it professes to be, not merely a 
 collection of inferences, but a narrative of facts. 
 
 The trial of Faithful Commin, the Dominican friai-, re- 
 corded in it, took place " before the Queen's Majesty, and 
 the Honourable Lords of the Privy Council, and the ex- 
 amination was conducted by his Grace, Matthew Parker, 
 Lord Archbishop of Canterbury." "The narrative of 
 this trial being an extract out of the memorials of the 
 Lord Cecil, an eminent statesman in the reign of Queen 
 Elizabeth, from whose papers it was transmitted to the 
 Rev. Bishop Usher, some time Lord Primate of Ireland." 
 And " these papers of the Lord Primate coming to the 
 hands of Sir James Ware, knight, late one of his 
 majesty's Privy Council in Ireland, were published by 
 Robert Ware, Esq. his son, in 1G80." 
 
 The <'xaminatiun of Thomas Heth, the Jesuit, took 
 place before the Bishop of Rochester, in open court, and 
 the narrative of it professes it to be " A true Copy 
 taken "out of the Registry of the Episcopal See of 
 Rochester, in that hook which begins: 'Anno 2 and 3 
 Phil, and .Mar. and continued to 15 Eliz.' " 
 
 Thus then, it is not without reason, that the author 
 of •* EuxfH and Firebrands," has given this character to 
 his book, that " liierein /*• proved from mulmiabh' matter 
 of fat I and reason, that srparatuni from the Church of 
 ICmjland, is, in the judt/ment of the papists, and bif sad 
 experience, fintiid the most compendious nay to introduce 
 popery, and to ruinc the protestant reliyion^
 
 POSTSCRIPT. 
 
 An expression has been inadvertently left in canto I. 
 part II. stanza 20, without explanation. The Greek words 
 ai/rhs e<j>r], or more properly avrhs i<pa, mean "he hiinself 
 has said it,'"' and were originally used by the disciples of 
 Pythagoras, who were in the habit of deciding all dis- 
 putes by a reference to the judgment of their master. 
 
 The following English words may be substituted for 
 the line in question. 
 
 All that HE SAID as canon law.
 
 ©an to Jpirst. 
 
 PART FIRST. 
 
 ^l)c SDcpavtiirc. 
 
 Reginald Vere, the son of Lord Siaunton, displaced by h 
 father from his command in the royal army through the 
 intrigues of secret enemies, leaves his home, on his return 
 
 to the camp. 
 
 Edmund. ' Bethink yourself wherein you may have offended him. and 
 at my entreaty forbear his presence till some little time has qualified the 
 heat of his displeasure, which at this instant so rageth in him that with 
 the mischief of your presence it would scarce allay.' 
 
 Edgar. ' Some villain has done me -svTong.' 
 
 Shakspere, Kiitg Lear. Act 1. So. 2. 
 
 A little wydo 
 There was a holy chapell edified. 
 Wherein the hermit dewly wont to say 
 His holy things each morn and even tyde. 
 Spenser, Fairie Quecne. 
 Book I. Cant. I. St. 31. 
 
 I. 
 
 Grey morniug breaks on Staunton's walls, 
 As the son goes forth from his father'.s halls 
 
 With a pale and saddened brow, 
 A heavy step, and a restless glance, 
 And a worn and anxious countenance ; 
 
 Oh never before, as now, 
 
 B
 
 THE DKl'ARTUHE. 
 
 Did he look on that forest scene with eye 
 Of such hopeless, heartless apathy. 
 
 II. 
 
 >Vhat is it to him, that his footsteps strayed 
 111 hapj)y childhood thro' yonder shade, 
 Where far as ever the eye could reach 
 Spreads long perspective of elm and beech ? 
 ^\'hat is it to him, that he watched the dawn 
 So often purple the velvet lawn, 
 "Where safe with the changes of copse and mead 
 The hrowii hare frisks, and the dun deer feed : 
 That he kuoweth each hollow in yonder dale 
 That rings Avith the sleepless nightingale. 
 And each lurking jilacc in the brawling brook, 
 Where the trout lies hid in its stony nook : 
 And that every jiathway and every track 
 Bring thoughts of a hapjiy childhood back, 
 And every meadow and every tree 
 is linked to some sjwrt of infancy : 
 What is it to him, who is doomed to roam 
 ^\'itll an altered heart from an altered home ? 
 
 111. 
 
 Away ! away ! they arc nothing to him ! 
 
 There was a time when he loved them well ; 
 Ihit, when the eye of joy grows dim, 
 
 Many a brigbt thing Irses its spell.
 
 THE DEPARTURi:. 
 
 It is not now that he loves them less ; 
 
 But th;it their sight brings a thought of care, 
 As though there was something of heartlessness 
 Which jarred upon his own distress, 
 
 That they should continue things so fair ! 
 
 IV. 
 
 He passes on, till the winding road 
 The stately towers no longer shewed, 
 Then backward turns, though keener pain 
 In that long gaze revives again. 
 The branching elms in leaty pride 
 'l"he worn grey walls with foliage hide, 
 But through the. tall trees' mantling screen 
 A radiant light is glancing shene. 
 Where, crimson-flushed, the rising sun 
 Upon a distant oriel shone. 
 
 V. 
 
 lie marked the spot ; in one long gaze 
 Hushed crowding thoughts of happier days. 
 Nor long the space that lay between 
 In memory's search for Avhat had been. 
 A twelve-month's picture ! what was there / 
 An empty room ! a vacant chair ! 
 And in the church a new-laid stone ! 
 Why wends he else on his path alone, 
 But that the one, by whom his lot 
 Was held most precious, she was not ?
 
 THE 1)KPAETU!;E. 
 
 VI. 
 
 And was there no other Toice to raise 
 
 An echoing note to AfFection's praise ? 
 
 Was his early promise a dream, a part 
 
 Of Fancy's whispering in that lone heart ? 
 
 Was it only a mother's partial eye 
 
 Shadowed forth his bright futurity ? 
 
 Not so ! lie had won and worn renown 
 
 In the earliest struggles for Altar and Crown : 
 
 He had tasted the mingled praise and blame 
 
 That fills the measure of honest Fame : 
 
 He had been the object of Hope and Fear, 
 
 Had met the scorn, and had felt the sneer ; 
 
 And those who opposed him had not despised, 
 
 W'liilo the best and the bravest had loved and prized. 
 
 VII. 
 
 I envy not his heartless fate, 
 
 Wild has piist thro' the world and found only Hate. 
 
 I would not wihh his failh to jjrove, 
 
 \\'ho lias pa«t thro' the world and found onl^' Love. 
 
 For Life is a picture of varied hues, 
 
 I>y changes of huitow and gladness made ; 
 And he, who rightly his path jiursucs, 
 
 Mii.st mingle in sunshine as well as shade. 
 Oh ! who would be of uiind so light 
 As to deem of every scene as bright ?
 
 THE DEPAliTLRK. 
 
 Oh ! who would nourish so dark a soul 
 
 As to find not one beauty out of the whole ? 
 
 VIII. 
 
 He had found many, though his mind 
 For vTilgar fancies was too refined : 
 He had found many, where common eye 
 Had past the jewel unheeded by. 
 ^^ot vulgar joys ! for he turned away 
 From the licence of that reckless day ; 
 And so its votaries knew him not, 
 Or deemed him to their side a blot ; 
 As one who shared the rigid rule 
 Of the Puritan's unlovely school ; 
 Or grafted on a Churchman's name 
 A grosser scandal, a darker shame : 
 By Schoolmen's fancies taught to feed 
 On food impure of Romish creed, 
 And threatening grievous scorn to bring 
 On the good cause of Chui'ch and King. 
 
 IX. 
 
 " For the Church and King !" was there one who mor2, 
 Than all in the host, had honoured and loved 
 
 The symbol of faith that his party bore ? 
 Reginald Vere thro' life had proved 
 
 A Christian's love for the Holy Shrine, 
 
 And a subject's duty for Right Divine.
 
 THE DEPARTURE. 
 
 " For the Church and King !" when Rebellion came 
 
 Profaning Piety's holiest name, 
 
 Begot by Ambition and nursed by Pride, 
 
 Sweeping the land with frenzied stride ; 
 
 Reginald Vere of all the north 
 
 First flung the banner of loyalty forth. 
 
 There's a scar on his brow, there's a scar on his hand, 
 
 Where he led round the monarch his gallant band ; 
 
 And the broad lands of Stiiuiiton are forfeit and gone, 
 
 Should the cause of the Commons rise high o'er the 'J'hrone. 
 
 X. 
 
 "For the Church and King !" whilst the party crew 
 Raised the shrill voice of lip loyalty high. 
 
 Of what for the Altar and Throne they would do. 
 
 And how they would battle and how they would die ; 
 
 While brimming goblets, and swimming eyes, 
 
 And strings of horrible blasphemies, 
 
 Dishonoured the cause, the Church's cause, 
 
 By daily breach of her hallowed laws : 
 
 Dishonoured her cause in her cbiMron's crimes, 
 
 More than all the hate of those rancorous times ; 
 
 Reginald Vere alone the while 
 
 Would stand and weep in the Church's aisle : 
 
 And Reginald Vere would day l>y day 
 
 W ith chastened sjjirit kneel and pray : 
 
 And the little Hock, that thither came, 
 
 Rejoiced that one of a noble name 
 
 Did not disdain to meet them tliere 
 
 In the hallowed counnunion of daily prayer ;
 
 THE DEPARTUliK. 
 
 Whilst she, his mother and his guide, 
 In meek devotion knelt beside. 
 Shewing the pathway to that heaven 
 Where rich and poor will all be even. 
 Till changes came, as years rolled on, 
 And Reginald kneeled by himself alone. 
 
 XT. 
 
 " For the Church and King !" could he, who sought 
 
 So often that altar in holy thought, 
 
 Not feel his inmost fibres ring 
 
 With the warning watch-word of Church and King ? 
 
 Oh ! who might prove his love the most, 
 
 The brawler over his drunken toast. 
 
 Or he whose heart had from earliest youth 
 
 Of the Church of his fathers felt the truth ? 
 
 Oh whence had sprung the vain pretence 
 
 Which fonned occasion for offence, 
 
 To doubt the honour, to sully the faith, 
 
 Of one who had loved and would love till death ? 
 
 XII. 
 
 llis sire was one, who had early learned 
 To call his Church by a mother's name, 
 
 Nor in such style the power discerned. 
 That mother o'er a child might claim : 
 
 But little recked of reverence sought 
 
 From those who learned to her who taught
 
 lUV J7F,['AUTUKB. 
 
 Xor dreamed of honour to be given 
 
 To office granted from above ; 
 Nor that appointed guides from heaven 
 
 Demanded something more than love. 
 His mother Church to him appeared 
 
 Like some old tower of other days, 
 Whose strength and use have disappeared, 
 
 Yet, for the name of former praise 
 Preser\-ed, and thus the party word 
 
 He loved, to which that name was bound ; 
 And ne'er from lojal lips was heard, 
 
 In deeper tones of zealous sound. 
 The toast which made the rafters ring 
 
 Of Staunton's halls with ' Church and Kins; 
 
 O 
 
 xiir. 
 
 He bore a good pike that ancient lord, 
 Firm and true was his warrior sword, 
 There was not one, <is he saiil, and swore. 
 That the rebel Puritans backward bore 
 With a steadier course ; nor one, whose aim 
 From the levelled matchlock truer came. 
 There was not a man of all the host 
 Who fought 80 well, when all was lost ; 
 There was not a man, when all was gained, 
 Who the loyal gol)let dec[>cr drained, 
 And spoke so roundly of his love 
 For mother Church, oh far above 
 All Hurly sects I nor linked to fate 
 The canting Roundheads with so much hate.
 
 THE nia'AKTUKK. 
 
 'i'here was not one, at Religion's calls 
 
 So seldom sought that Church's walls : 
 
 There was not one, who made so light 
 
 Of every ordinance and rite : 
 
 There was not one, whose practice brought 
 
 Such scandal on the truths she taught, 
 
 Or gave Rebellion fair excuse 
 
 For striking down an old abuse. 
 
 If hers the creed that he professed, 
 
 Alas, how false that mother's breast ! 
 
 How meagre ! what a prayerless thing ! 
 
 Who could find warmth in so cold a wing ? 
 
 What wonder, that her nurslings fled 
 
 And deemed their mother Church was dead ? 
 
 XIV. 
 
 It is false ! it is false I not hers the shame, 
 But theirs who have left her but a name ; 
 Not hers the fault, not hers the wrong ; 
 But slothful heart and slanderous tongue ; 
 The fickle herd, with itching ear, 
 Careless to pray, alert to hear ; 
 The Man of Wrath, the Man of Pride, 
 Who will not brook their proper guide ; 
 The coward heart that tamely bears, 
 
 With downcast eye and blanching cheek, 
 The Atheist's laugh, th' ungodly's sneers. 
 
 The coward tongue that dares not speak 
 The good acknowledged, in rebuke
 
 10 THE DEPARTURE. 
 
 Of fancied ill, that scandal spreads ; 
 But for high tone and haughty look 
 
 Foregoes the Church's cause ; and sheds 
 More shame upon her than she knows 
 From the bold front of open foes. 
 But more than all, disgrace that flings, 
 Is man's neglect for holy things. 
 
 XV. 
 
 Not hers the fault ! still spots are found, 
 Small quiet spots of holy ground, 
 Where beams the mother's likeness fair, 
 Shewn in the daughter's zealous care. 
 And some lone shrine in rustic scene 
 ]\Iarks what the Chm-ch's mind hath been. 
 Where still the narrow road is trod, 
 By which she leads the soul to God : 
 By meek devotiou taught to raise 
 Continual prayer, continual praise ; 
 With fast and feast the soul to lead 
 By steps along the Christian's creed, 
 And gather fresh returns of grace 
 From God's appointed resting place. 
 
 XVI. 
 
 Even now the village bell, 
 
 Slowly, slowly swaying. 
 Murmurs forth with solemn swell 
 Over mountain, wood, and (k-ll, 
 
 Nature should be praying !
 
 THE DEPARTURE. H 
 
 .Alatin time ! the night flies fast ! 
 
 Night for rest and sleeping ! 
 Who, until the darkness past, 
 O'er the earth protection cast, 
 ' ^Heavenly vigil keeping ! 
 Wakes the earth and wakes the air 
 
 His regard confessing ; 
 Christian, wake ! awake to prayer, 
 To your God's own shrine repair. 
 
 Seek His earliest blessing ! 
 Few they come : be his the shame 
 
 Who the call despises ! 
 Church's doors are ope the same : 
 Not hers the fault, not hers the blame. 
 If few bow down to bless His name 
 
 Whose morning incense rises. 
 
 XVIT. 
 
 Few come, alas, when we compare 
 The things which have been, to what are ! 
 In Staunton Vere the few are met : 
 Nor is there wanting the regret 
 Untold, but felt by all, that still 
 There is a place that one might fill, 
 Who comes not. List to hasty feet ! 
 He comes, before they take their seat, 
 With head bowed down, and covered face, 
 As one who sought the throne of grace 
 In deep abasement. There was need, 
 That one, who owned a holy creed,
 
 12 THE DKPARTtRE. 
 
 Should feel abasement at the thought 
 
 Unholy by injustice taught : 
 
 Yes, there was need that he, whose sire 
 
 Had driven him from his side in irc, 
 
 Should feel abasement to bow down 
 
 Before his heavenly Father's throne, 
 
 Lest memory of the past should bring 
 
 Revenge upon his offering, 
 
 Or the weak heart forget to pray, 
 
 By thoughts umjuiet Im-ed astray. 
 
 xviir. 
 
 Fur fresh the woimd ; as fresh I ween, 
 As had that painful meeting been 
 
 That yester-evening knew, 
 When Reginald, called by hasty post, 
 liarl left on Marsficld's heights the host ", 
 
 Where, with the loyal crew, 
 Most loyal, he the troopers led, 
 That at the cost of .Staunton fed. 
 Strict were the orders of recall ; 
 
 And homeward with regret 
 lie hastened, and in Staunton's hall 
 
 His angry father met. 
 \\ '\\'\ was the greeting, all too wild 
 From father to an only chiM ! 
 Fierce was the meeting ! Reginald sate 
 In silent pain, whilst j)assi()nate 
 
 - A villaj/n (\vi' iiiilrii froiii Haili, ilii> hitucl (|iiiirtor4 of Uio 
 KoyiiliMlH ; I'lillrd \>y Clureudoii Muriiliiild ; now MiiriiliHvId, or, 
 iriort- prupi-rlj', Miirchncld.
 
 THE DKFARTURK. ' -^ 
 
 Lord Staunton thundered on 
 In hot unbridled violence : 
 All grace and courtesy and sense 
 
 Foregone from sire to son. 
 With stamping foot and fiery eye 
 He charged him as a lurking spy, 
 A recreant foe to honour's laws, 
 A rebel to his King and Cause, 
 
 A traitor to the land, 
 Foe to his Church, who sought to bring 
 The Italian's trammels round the King 
 
 By desperate Irish band ^ 
 With such gross epithets and names, 
 As coarse invective foaming frames. 
 
 XIX. 
 
 In vain with mild and lowly speech. 
 And streaming eyes and bended knees. 
 
 Did Reginald of his sire beseech, 
 
 That for his honour he would teach 
 From whence suspicions such as these. 
 
 So hideous, so distorted sprang. 
 
 So fast the accusations rang, 
 
 So madly from his angry tongue 
 
 That stammered with the imagined wrong, 
 
 h The jealousy felt by the parliament and the disaffected in the 
 country towards the Irish, is well known. " At an early jjeriod the 
 Kini; had been obliged to disband his reinforcements from Ireland, 
 finding often mention enviously and raaliciously made of that army 
 in the house of Commons,'' Ac- Clarendon, vol. i. p. 135.
 
 14 Tin; DEI'ARTUIiE. 
 
 So mixt with taunt and oath and sneer, 
 'Twere vain to hope the proofs to hear. 
 Something he stormed of good old ways, 
 From fancies free of modern days, 
 Of easy weight and decent plan, 
 By Reginald scorned : and brief began 
 To mention her, who now was dead. 
 But Reginald sternly raised his head. 
 And the harsh word was left unsaid. 
 
 Something he spoke of one he knew, 
 One of a staunch and honest crew. 
 But whom he named not, who agreed 
 With him in thoughts of Rule and Creed ; 
 One whom no Churchman would suspect 
 Of fiivouring Puritanic sect ; 
 A\'lio luved the Church, who looked with pride 
 Upon her doctrine, but denied 
 All right of hers to rule or guide. 
 ]{ut he was willing to obey. 
 As far as Conscience led the way. 
 lie was not, he, i)re[)ared to be. 
 Slave to a Popish tyranny : 
 Hut Reginald was a foul disgrace 
 To his good name aiul loyal race 
 
 XX. 
 
 Something more darkly of a plot. 
 To him revealed, he .sjioke ; but what. 
 The frenzy of Lord Staunton's Inn in 
 Or failed or deigned not to explain.
 
 THE DKl'ARTUKE. 15 
 
 N\'oiiliJ Reginald speak, lie had no ear, 
 Alas he had no wish to hear. 
 His accusations were so mixed 
 With anger, and so lightly fixed 
 To one clear point, the injured knew 
 He had been slandered, and withdrew, 
 Till calm reflection should assuage 
 The outburst of impetuous rage. 
 
 XXI. 
 
 Such season came not ; came instead, 
 Ere worn and tired he sought his bed, 
 An order from his sire to stay 
 No longer than the break of day : 
 Then ride, and speed by his command 
 A letter to Ralph Hopton's hand ; 
 And at his bidding to prepare 
 His troops to yield to other care ; 
 Then seek in shame some foreign shore. 
 And see his father's face no more. 
 Such might not be ; but what he may, 
 By just obedience bound, obey, 
 Such shall be given : his troop to yield, 
 But not the right in foughten field 
 To trail the pike, to back the steed, 
 In his anointed Sovereign's need ; 
 Where generous deeds of arms are shewn, 
 To join the host and join alone.
 
 16 THE DEPAKTURE. 
 
 XXII. 
 
 Oh slander ! thou malignant art ! 
 True test of the corrupted heart ! 
 Thou coward Hater's coward tool ! 
 The brave may foil the brave man's brand, 
 The prudent shun the midnight hand, 
 The slanderer's tongue what care can rule. 
 When on its victim's name it brings 
 The asp-like venom of its stings ? 
 The skilful leech may soon allay 
 The wounds received in open fray ; 
 Remorse may stay the felon's knife, 
 And spare the cowering victim's life ; 
 Remorse or leech's skill is vain 
 To assuage the slanderer's ceaseless pain : 
 No time the injury can bound. 
 The j)oison festers in the wound. 
 
 XXIII. 
 
 Say, hast thou slandered ! Dost repent I 
 Ho this thy clinging punishment ! 
 'I'luiii wouldst recall the coward ill, 
 
 'Jliou wouMst thy crime confess ; 
 I'xcrt thine cdorts, try thy skill 
 
 Thy victim t<j redress. 
 Retnict t)iy words, rewrite the tale. 
 Think'st tlii.u thy rhetoric will j)revain 
 Will half of those, who heard the lie, 
 Jlear thee retract the cahunny?
 
 THE DEPARTURE. 17 
 
 Thy one tongue spoke, but it has spread 
 
 By hundred tongues the lie it bred : 
 
 And, couldst thou speak with hundred tongues, 
 
 Thou couldst not clear thy victim's -wrongs. 
 
 XXIV. 
 
 Will half of those thou hast deceived 
 
 Renounce the tale they first received 
 
 Upon thy credit, and believed, 
 
 Nor deem some fresh deceit is meant ? 
 
 The slandered can't be innocent. 
 
 But thou prevailest :. years glide on : 
 
 All good remembrances are gone. 
 
 But evil recollected stays ; 
 
 And there will aye be some to raise 
 
 The evil tale of other days. 
 
 Long after thy defence is dead, 
 
 To whisper ' such and such' was said. 
 
 Death only sets thy victim free 
 
 From the old sore of calumny. 
 As the blood of the murdered returns not again, 
 As the sand of the desert sucks up the light rain, 
 As the snow of the winter-storm melts on the river. 
 The good name of the slandered one sinks and for ever. 
 
 If thou hast hui-t thy brother's fame, 
 
 If thou hast killed his honest name ; 
 
 Taught by the warning, oh, beware ! 
 
 Thou canst not now the wrong repau- : 
 
 This canst thou do, thy crime deplore. 
 
 And, taught by sorrow, sin no more. 
 
 c
 
 IS TUli DEPAllTUBE. 
 
 XXV. 
 
 Such thoughts were his, when early day 
 
 Saw Reginald from his home retire 
 In mournful mood, and take the way 
 
 Appointed by his wrathful su-e. 
 Till soothing on his ear the tongue 
 Of the prayer-bidding warning rung, 
 And called him to the liouse of God 
 Ere further sjied his painful road; 
 
 Lowly he knelt : and ah, how low, 
 How faint, at first his accents flow : 
 Till, as the meek confessions rise, 
 With gathering fervour, to the skies. 
 His deep voice added to the tone 
 The full responses of his own ; 
 And calmly, as the calmest there, 
 Reginald poured liis soul in prayer. 
 
 XXVI. 
 
 There were, wIkj aliaust deemed it crime 
 
 In those bewildered days, 
 To worship God in matin time 
 
 By old appointed ways. 
 There were, who almost deemed it sin, 
 i)r .sign of treachery within, 
 The evening's fall to usher in 
 
 With common prayer and praise ; 
 .\s tli«ugh no jiifty was found 
 III holy rules on holy grouud.
 
 THE DKPARTURE. 19 
 
 And thus, in morbid fear of shame 
 
 For something that they could not name, 
 
 Full seldom did the bell's sweet tone 
 
 Welcome in prayer the rising sun. 
 
 For those, who should have knelt to pray, 
 
 Awed by the satire of the day. 
 
 Slunk from the holy work away ; 
 
 And morning's time of prayer was sped 
 
 In slumber on a sluggard's bed, 
 
 And evening's hour of worship spent 
 
 In some rude tavern's merriment : 
 
 Whilst zeal itself, no longer nursed 
 
 By wholesome rules, intense at first, 
 
 Consumed itself by rapid blaze, 
 
 Or wandered in delusive ways. 
 
 Thus swelled the Independents' host ; 
 
 Thus love for Church's ranks was lost ; 
 
 Thus honest Churchmen looked and mourned, 
 
 While crafty Rome rejoiced and scorned. 
 
 XXVII. 
 
 The pious priest of Staunton Vere, 
 
 In spite of wrath, reproach, and sneer. 
 
 Pursued in faith his even way, 
 
 Gathered his flock from day to day, 
 
 And trained their minds, with zealous care. 
 
 To prize the privilege of prayer. 
 
 In vain the proud lord of the soil 
 
 Opposed him in his earnest toil, 
 
 And brought the Church's name to lack 
 
 The slanders of his gross attack :
 
 20 THE DEPARTtRK. 
 
 As though it hurt the Church's cause 
 
 To pay strict deference to her laws, 
 
 And all the obedient Pastor's part 
 
 Was cunning sleight of treacherous art. 
 
 In vain the few, whose scorn of rule 
 
 Was learned in Puritanic school, 
 
 Which added to their fathers' crimes 
 
 The hypocrisy of younger times. 
 
 Followed the lead with bitter taunt. 
 
 With impious prayer or mocking vaunt. 
 
 That soon, yea soon, the time should come 
 
 When not a rag of Papal Rome, 
 
 Nor reverend stole, nor surplice fair, 
 
 Nor daily voice of Common Prayer, 
 
 Nor Altar hung with costly pall. 
 
 Nor round of solemn festival, 
 
 Nor priest, nor prelate, should endure, 
 
 Where all was holy, all was pure. 
 
 What need of guides to teach the flock, 
 
 When e'en the humblest soon niiglit mock 
 
 Those d\niib dogs' learning, fraught from high 
 
 With ins])iration's extasy ? 
 
 ^Meanwhile they mocked, they laughed to scorn 
 
 The faith, a land too long had borne. 
 
 And awed the weak, and vexed the good, 
 
 liy threats of sacrilege and blood. 
 
 XXVIIl. 
 
 Ill vain they railed : nor scorn nor scathe 
 Shook in his duty's thorny path
 
 THE DEPARTCRE. 21 
 
 The faithful priest, nor closed the door 
 To please the rich which nursed the poor ; 
 And many a wife and mother there 
 For those in fight made daily prayer, 
 E'en as they felt they oft had proved 
 God's daily care for those they loved. 
 And many a passing soldier came. 
 And in the pause of deadly game 
 
 Within those walls found rest : 
 Or, by the bell of matin stayed, 
 Near the low porch his march delayed, 
 
 And worshipped and was blest ; 
 Then passed refreshed, with loyal zeal 
 Stamped by devotion's holiest seal. 
 Such were chance blessings, nor the least 
 That tended on the daily feast. 
 That many a wounded heart woiild come, 
 
 To seek the bliss, the soothing love, 
 Denied perchance in earthly home. 
 
 But drawn by Faith from realms above. 
 
 XXIX. 
 
 Such solace touched at least one noble heart. 
 
 When Reginald Vere sustained a suppliant's part. 
 
 In holy fervour with the village throng ; 
 
 And, all forgot the late inflicted wrong. 
 
 There sought, and found, his spirit's calm repose, 
 
 Lonor ere the final benediction rose.
 
 22 THE DErARTURK. 
 
 XXX. 
 
 The flock retired : but silent there; 
 Kneeled Reginald Vere in secret prayer 
 For strength the bitter cross to bear ; 
 He looked around : he knelt alone ; 
 He bowed him o'er the new-laid stone, 
 A minute's space, of Her, beloved : 
 But, though his lips convulsive moved 
 In lilessings to her memory given, 
 He needs not pray for one in heaven. 
 
 " Straightway they rest, their lal)ours o'er ; 
 " Straightway they re^t, to toil no more ; 
 " Yea straightway blessed," saith the Word, 
 " The dead who slumber in the Lord."
 
 OTanto Jpirst. 
 
 PART SECOND. 
 
 'Elje departure. 
 
 ' Morleyj" the Rector of Staunton Fere, gives some account of 
 ' Reginald's' successor in the command of Lord Staunton's troop, 
 and also of the Rector of the neighbouring parish. 
 
 Character of ' Faithful Napper ' and ' Commin.' 
 
 A good man ther was of Rellgioun, 
 That was a poure personne of a toun : 
 But riche he was of holy thought and werk. 
 He was also a lerned man, a clerk. 
 That Christes Gospel trewely wolde preche. 
 His parishens devoutly wolde he teche. 
 Benigne he was, and wonder diligent, 
 And in adversitie ful patient. 
 
 Chaccek, C. T. Prologue, ver. 479— 48e. 
 
 Which is the villain ? let me see his eyes. 
 That when I note another man like him 
 I may avoid him : which of these is he ? 
 
 Shakspeee, Much Ado ahoiU Notkinfi. 
 Act V. Sc 1. 
 
 I. 
 
 It is good to he alone, 
 
 When from out the wounded heart 
 The first burst of sorrow breaks, 
 
 And the gushing tear-drops start ; 
 And the breast convulsive shakes
 
 24 THE DEPARTURE. 
 
 With the sobs that scorn relief 
 From affection's softest tone : 
 
 Then, in that wild hour of grief, 
 It is good to be alone. 
 
 But, when quiet moments rise 
 
 From the exhausted storm of feeling, 
 And a vacancy of thought, 
 
 And a languid calm is stealing 
 O'er the spirit overwrought : 
 
 It is soothing then to meet 
 With affection s answering sighs, 
 
 And to feel that bosoms beat 
 With some kindred sympathies. 
 
 .II. 
 
 As Reginaltl left the house of prayer, 
 
 A quiet voice, that named his name, 
 Of one who marked his presence there, 
 
 In kindly words of welcome came. 
 " Reginald Verc ! what ! pass you by 
 With hurrying step and heedless eye. 
 Nor transient glance of notice lend, 
 0])servant on an ancient friend ? 
 Too much, alas ! otir civil wars 
 Disturb us with their cruel jars, 
 That no kind look or word should shew, 
 When those we value come and go." 
 Such greeting broiight him to the siile 
 < )f Morley, of the parish guide,
 
 THE DEPARTURE. 2o 
 
 Who, as the young man's hand he wrung, 
 Dropped praise and welcome from his tongue ; 
 Though not so dear, as those which speak 
 In his young daughter's blushing cheek. 
 
 III. 
 
 Manly strength of middle age 
 
 Marked the Priest of Staunton Vere : 
 High resolve and counsel sage. 
 
 In his forehead broad and clear, 
 Their unerring signs displayed ; 
 
 And his cheek was pale with thought, 
 Which at times a passing shade 
 
 To his open visage brought. 
 And there dwelt within his eye 
 
 Something of a dreamy look, 
 Something of transparency. 
 
 As of one whose thoughts partook 
 Of a train of deeper musing 
 
 Than belongs to things of earth, 
 Into outward forms infusing 
 
 Visions of celestial birth. 
 
 IV. 
 
 Softened in the daughter's face 
 All the sire's expression shewed, 
 
 Where the gentlest female grace 
 With the mildest beauty glowed.
 
 26 THE DKPARTURE. 
 
 Hers the forehead pale and high, 
 
 Where each full and liquid vein, 
 Like a rill meandering by, 
 
 Branched across the marble plain. 
 Hers the blue eye's lively gleams, 
 
 Sometimes thoughtful, seldom sad ; 
 For a youth of hopeful dreams 
 
 Made the inward spirit glad. 
 And that pure and joyous glance. 
 
 And her bright hair's golden -wave. 
 To the sweet girl's countenance 
 
 Beauty almost childish gave. 
 Whilst those features softly fair, 
 
 And that slight and fragile form, 
 Augured ill for strength to bear 
 
 Cold Affliction's blighting storm. 
 
 But on j\larion's quiet youth 
 
 Few and light the sorrows fell. 
 Blest with innocence and truth : 
 
 And she deemed it passing well 
 In a pleasant world to dwell 
 
 With the fiicmls her bosom loved. 
 Till Death came and broke the spell, 
 
 And one precious link removed ; 
 And poor Marion's first distress 
 Left the maiden motherless.
 
 THE DEPARTURE. 
 
 vi. 
 
 Well it is by Heaven designed, 
 
 That, in mortal scenes of sorrow. 
 Ever the elastic mind 
 May in occupation find 
 
 Soothing comfort, and may borrow 
 Even from the source of grief 
 That which gives the heart relief. 
 Thus it was with INIarion's heart, 
 
 That the charge, she now must talce, 
 To perform allotted part 
 
 For her widowed father's sake : 
 In his heart the void to fill, 
 
 In his household to preside, 
 And, more matron office still, 
 
 All the little train to guid^ 
 By her gentle mother left, 
 Of a mother's care bereft, 
 
 Soothed her mind and occupied. 
 And, except that somewhat slower 
 
 Was her foot upon the green, 
 And her voice was somewhat lower. 
 
 Somewhat sadder was her mien, 
 Scarcely could the world have knowTi, 
 
 That Affliction's wintry hour 
 With so keen a blast had blown 
 
 On so delicate a flower.
 
 28 THE DEPARTURE. 
 
 VII. 
 
 Such were the father and the child, 
 
 Who Reginald's footsteps stayed, 
 Whilst thus again in accents mild 
 
 The sire his greeting paid : 
 " Welcome, my friend !" the good man cried : 
 " Oh, 'tis a source of joy and pride, 
 To see the soldier feel not shame 
 To honour his Redeemer's name : 
 That in the intervals of strife, 
 The hurried path of warrior's life, 
 The boldest heart in Hertford's band '^, 
 In Charles's cause the truest hand, 
 Has not forgot the path he trod 
 In early youth towards his God. 
 May every bliss to mortals given. 
 Peace upon earth and joy in heaven, 
 As II IS good j)lea.sure shall assign, 
 \\'hose will is best, good youth, be thine !"' 
 
 VIII. 
 
 The raaiflcn heard her father's praise. 
 And turned her (|uick admiring gaze 
 On the old friend of former days. 
 
 c of Lciril Hertford Hoe note r in the thirrt canto. " Tlie rommand 
 of lliu iiriiiy ill the Houtli wiut lidil jointly by Prince Miinrico ami 
 Lciril Hertfonl, iilllioii^li Sir Itiilpli ilopton, iik the IichI olilcer, wii« 
 ((eneriilly looked ui>uii un ilii real generul." — C'lurenduii,vul. ii. p. 410, 
 414.
 
 THE DEPARTURE. 
 
 He met the approving look, 
 And, whether some peculiar grace 
 Beamed at that moment in her face, 
 
 Or his heart's secret nook 
 Yearned to supply the vacant place 
 
 Of one departed ; ne'er before 
 
 Such sweet expression jNIarion wore. 
 Or Reginald learned to trace. 
 He felt the charm, and in his eye 
 Shewed that he felt. She scarce knew why 
 She shrunk beneath his softening glance, 
 But in his glowing countenance 
 She read a truth before unknown, 
 Which maidens' heart is coy to own : 
 And yet there might be thoughts allied 
 
 With such a feeling yielding pain, 
 I only know she blushed and sighed, 
 
 And did not meet his glance again. 
 
 IX. 
 
 More sad the soldier's looks became, 
 As to his lips the answer came. 
 '• K Charles demand a loyal heart, 
 I take till death my sovereign's part ; 
 If Maurice need a loyal hand, 
 I yield to none in Hertford's band ! 
 What more they seek, let those supply 
 By happier fortune blest than I. 
 
 29
 
 ;iO THK DEPARTDHE. 
 
 Reginald Vere has nought to bring, ' 
 But heart and hand to serve his King." 
 
 " Stout heart, good hand : a worthy pair, 
 The King and Cause may joy to share. 
 Stout heart, that omens could not tame, 
 When rebel winds had brought to shame 
 The royal flag at Nottingham'' : 
 Good hand, that long with desperate might 
 Protracted Edgehill's doubtful fight e, 
 Lyndsay's last course of honour o'er, 
 And Verney down and Vavasour, 
 And headstrong Rupert far away 
 Wasting the fortune of the day. 
 Good heart and hand ! but not alone ! 
 When Staunton's battle-lilast is blown 
 From Raven's crag to Grasmoor's side. 
 Three hundred troopers mount and ride. 
 Since wounds Lord Staunton have confined, 
 To thee their leading is consigned ; 
 Tlio Cause, thou followcst, shall not lack 
 'I'hose stout three hundred at thy back." 
 " Alone I go : to meet my call 
 Not one may mount in cot or hall. 
 
 'I " The Htandard wan blown down tho Bamo night it had been get 
 u|), hy II very Ntroii); and unruly wind." — Clarendon, vol. i. p. 1127. 
 
 •• ICdtJcliill. " I'rini-e Unpirt, l>y purhiiintf tlie left wiuKof tlu'oueniy 
 too far, lost tin- udvaiitane. Tlie earl of LyndHay, jjeneral of the forces, 
 and Hit Kdinoml Norney, knight inar-hall and hlamlard hearer, were 
 killed ; Colonel Vavaoour taken prinoner." — Clarendon, vol. ii. j). 76.
 
 THE di:parture. 31 
 
 Another's will our vassals speeds ; 
 Another's hand my troopers leads ; 
 Another voice with warlike cheer 
 Must loose the pennon-flag of Vere. 
 Weighed down beneath a father's ban 
 I join the host a banished man." 
 
 XL 
 
 " Strange tidings these ! what angry plea 
 Could e'er resolve such wild decree ? 
 Yet well I know youi* father's wi'ath 
 Hath crossed of old your quiet path : 
 Nor less, since pain and loss of blood 
 Hath chafed his hot untempered mood 
 By wounds received before the fall 
 Of faithless Reading's Heaguered wall ; 
 Nor less, since she, erewhile his guide, 
 (Such was Heaven's will) hath left his side : 
 She, who—" 
 
 " Who never suffered blame 
 To light upon my father's name ; 
 Who never crossed him : nor will I, 
 Such grace 1 owe her memory. 
 Briefly I tell my tale, nor make 
 Complaint nor comment for her sake." 
 
 f " The SDrrender of this town to the earl of Essex gave so much dis- 
 satisfaction that Colonel Fielding, its governor, was sentenced on trial 
 at a court of war to lose his head ; although this judgment was re- 
 mitted, yet he was deprived of all command." — Clarendon, vol. ii. 
 p. 361.
 
 32 THE DEPARTUEE. 
 
 XII. 
 
 The tale was told : and painful thought 
 To Morley's breast such subject brought. 
 Yet not for him alone 
 The Pastor grieved, (though not the less 
 He sorrowed for his friend's distress.) 
 But for his loved, his own, 
 His quiet flock, his little cure, 
 Who yet had fared, if not secure. 
 Yet free till now from heavier wrongs. 
 Than the loose mock of idle tongues. 
 But now in these disordered days, 
 When every little spark could raise 
 Men's angry passions to a blaze, 
 Keenly the watchful pastor felt. 
 That this first shaft, so rudely dealt, 
 Might be but prelude to the blow 
 To lay his own defences low. 
 
 XIII. 
 
 How ran the talc ? an angi'y lord, 
 Stirred up by some invidious word 
 Of something meant, or said, or dune, 
 Had cast away his only son. 
 Whose crime (whate'or was the pretence) 
 Had been a meek obedience 
 To Church's order, such as they, 
 True children of their mother, pay.
 
 THE DEPARTURE. 33 
 
 The secret foe, that worked unseen, 
 Fostering Lord Staunton's jealous spleen, 
 Had pandered to the weakest part 
 Of silly head and pompous heart, 
 
 Its vanity and pride ; 
 " The Church's teaching was offence ; 
 An insult rank to common sense. 
 
 That needs no formal guide :" 
 Had pandered to the uncertain dread 
 Of Rome, ' 'Twas popery to be led :' 
 Had pandered to the idle mood, 
 Which prudent discipline withstood 
 Rejecting every wholesome yoke ; 
 Yet all the while insidious spoke. 
 Of each, as of the private whim. 
 Unsanctioned by the Church, of him, 
 Who rigidly her order kept, 
 Whilst she, meek mistress, harmless slept. 
 Thus cautiously was kept in shade. 
 On whom the real attack was made ; 
 As though, in purifying love, 
 They sought her bulwarks to remove ; 
 As though, in zeal for Church's cause, 
 They swept away her hallowed laws. 
 
 XIV. 
 
 Yes, there was reason good to fear, 
 W^hilst foe thus artful hovered near, 
 Unscrupulous to work his end 
 By the most treacherous name of friend, 
 
 D
 
 •34 THE DEPARTURE. 
 
 The shaft, that lighted on the son, 
 Had only just its fliijht begun. 
 But who that foe ? " His name repeat ! 
 Lord Staunton's choice ; commander meet 
 The banner of your house to wield, 
 And lead his vassals in the field." 
 
 " Commin ! a name,' with stifled groan 
 (That stranger to his name and race 
 Should fill in arms his rightful place) 
 The youth replied, " to me unknown : 
 Some late connection, so I deem. 
 In wrath selected, who might seem 
 Scarce fitted for such post of pride ! 
 But judgment fails, where passions guide." 
 
 XV. 
 
 " Commin, my father I" said the maid, 
 Half eagerly, and half afraid, 
 T)ic interest, that her silence broke, 
 Doubling her tremors as she spoke. 
 " .Surely 'twas he, that fearful man, 
 Who" — but, as promptly she began, 
 So suddenly she stopped, looked down, 
 All crimsoned : whilst an angry frown 
 Unwonted darkened in the eyes 
 r)f that milil sire. With strange surprise 
 Reginald markeil the cmbarras.scd look, 
 And quick alarm from sorrow took.
 
 THE DEPARTURE. 35 
 
 " Marion reminds me : but, my child, 
 
 Our converse has our walk beguiled. 
 
 E'en now our garden's wild-briar fence 
 
 Flings welcome forth to sight and sense. 
 
 Were it not well, my girl were there, 
 
 A careful housewife, to prepare 
 
 The morning meal our guest will share ? 
 
 Nay, no denial, youth !" he said, 
 
 (As Reginald Vera would fain have stayed 
 
 The fairy form that tripped away,) 
 
 " I also must a tale display, 
 
 That scantly would the credit speed 
 
 Of him you name. I pray give heed. 
 
 XVI, 
 
 " Some seven nights back my Marion came 
 
 With cordials for an ailing dame 
 
 Beyond the mill. The eve was late, 
 
 Before she passed the wicket gate 
 
 Of Staunton Chase : wheu from the wall 
 
 A man sprung forth, dark browed and tall, 
 
 With flaunting dress and flowing hair. 
 
 Such as our loyal gallants wear. 
 
 Alas ! that these should oft be known, 
 
 By noble deeds of virtue shown 
 
 And inward piety, far less 
 
 Thau swaggering mien and flaunting dress. 
 
 Nay more, dear Reginald, I fear, 
 
 That which shall mark the Cavalier 
 
 In future histories, shall be 
 
 A reveller's life and blasphemy ;
 
 36 THE DEPARTURE. 
 
 As though such formed the outward sign 
 Of all who guard a cause divine. 
 
 XVII. 
 
 " Such was his guise at least, who sprung 
 On my poor girl, and from his tongue 
 Poured many a gross unseemly word, 
 In startled terror all unheard : 
 And all unmeet for female eai : 
 But, when she saw the intruder near, 
 Surprised at first, then sore afraid, 
 My Marion summoned to her aid 
 Her woman's arms in hour of need : 
 For first she screamed, and then at speed 
 Fled from his grasp : the man pursued ; 
 But, what had first inflamed his blood. 
 The heady grape, combined as well 
 To chain his feet. The ruffian fell : 
 Jleanwhile the maid in her alarms 
 Found refuge in a father's arms. 
 For, auxlous at protracted stay, 
 I came to meet her homeward way, 
 Heard her loud outcry of affright. 
 And caught her in her hasty flight. 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 " My child restored, I hastened back. 
 The author of the base attack
 
 THE DEPARTURE. 
 
 To trace, where, yet devoid of sense, 
 
 He wallowed : 'twas perchance pretence. 
 
 At my approach with sudden race 
 
 He leapt the boundary of the chase, 
 
 And in the brushwood past from view. 
 
 I nor his form nor features knew, 
 
 But known he was : and all around 
 
 Some tale to his discredit found 
 
 Of deeds we would not wish to name, 
 
 And brutal jest to village dame. 
 
 Yes, all at once found ready word : 
 
 '■ Did you not know V ' Have you not heard ?' 
 
 I little know, and little hear, 
 
 Confined within my quiet sphere. 
 
 Thus spoke the voice of vulgar fame. 
 
 ' To Staunton's hall the stranger came 
 
 Some three months back, and there had stayed, 
 
 And wondrous footing strangely made.' 
 
 They call him ' Captain :' on which side, 
 
 Or to what cause and faith allied, 
 
 They know not, or their knowledge hide. 
 
 This yet remains : and strange indeed 
 
 The riddle, they relate, to read. 
 
 This Commin is the associate known 
 
 Of one, whose praise is widely blown, 
 
 A Gospel preacher — such the phrase 
 
 Presumptuous man in these wild days 
 
 Assumes for those, who stoop to teach 
 
 Their own peculiar views to each. 
 
 Peculiar views, alas ! whose pride 
 
 Drives rudely from their Saviour's side 
 
 Millions of souls, for whom Christ died : 
 
 37
 
 38 THE DEPARTURE. 
 
 Who bear upon their tongue and brow 
 ' We are the holy :' ' who art thou V 
 And, hailing all their sect as blest, 
 To bvirning torments doom the rest. 
 
 XIX. 
 
 " Such is the man of doubtful creeds, 
 
 Who ' Compton's' neighbouring parish leads. 
 
 ' Napper' his name : his voice, they say, 
 
 Draws whole admiring crowds away, 
 
 Who love to hear and not to pray. 
 
 He speaks, it seems, in practised phrase, 
 
 Uf Israel's dark l>enighted days. 
 
 Of purer lights : and, though the naiue 
 
 Of Church is never mixed with blame, 
 
 When and where'er his spirit moves. 
 
 He throws some slur on that she loves «. 
 
 Each holy-day, eiich sacred feast. 
 
 Is impious remnant of the beast ; 
 
 And her divinest prayers give place 
 
 To rhapsodies of freer grace''. 
 
 liilM)iiri.-il t(i rclliit' tli<t Proti'HtiiiiU, luiil to tiiki^ off nil Kinuckn of ri-rv- 
 iiioiiicN (tint ill till' Ifiixt (Id tuiiil til tli(> Kiiiiiihh I'liith.' 
 
 'i Ht'L- Faithful ('"iiniiiiii'x iiiihWiTlo tlu' I'i>|)c(Fi)XrK mill Firt'-liriiiidk, 
 |i. 2t<.) ' 1 prfinlii'il ii^iiiiiNt Hi't fiirms of prayer, iiiul I ciillcil the 
 li^iiftlinh I'riiyiTM l''.iiKli>li Mu*s.' Hit IIi'lli'i* itiibwur (34) ' WliiTo liuve 
 wi< Scripturu fur iiiiy aul furui iu tliu C'liunh.'
 
 THE DEPAKTrKE. 39 
 
 XX. 
 
 " Such is the man to whom I know 
 
 I something of disorder owe, 
 
 In those who leave the quiet prayer 
 
 Our Church affords, to roam and share 
 
 The unwholesome food his zeal supplies : 
 
 Something in cavils and replies 
 
 To truths, from those, whose lips profess 
 
 To feel their Church's loveliness, 
 
 Yea, all the while, in truth, that they 
 
 Are rending her heart's strings away : 
 
 Something in those, who quote each word 
 
 As if some oracle they heard, 
 
 Some Pope's decree ; and stamp with awe 
 
 His ' avrhs etpv' canon law. 
 
 Alas ! I fear, that those who link 
 
 Their Church's love to his, and think 
 
 Her lovely only, when allied 
 
 To individual power and pride. 
 
 May soon be led to turn aside, 
 
 When individual talents lead 
 
 Their fancy to forsake their creed. 
 
 XXI. 
 
 '■ The preacher such, his comrade then, 
 But, oh ! how different the men ! 
 This Commin in thy father's hall 
 Leads its weak lord in dangerous thrall.
 
 4() THE DEPARTURE. 
 
 A jovial comrade ; coarse and rude, 
 Of mirthful and obsequious mood. 
 Seems it not strange in outward show, 
 That one so high, and one so low. 
 Unless to serve some private ends, 
 Should thus associates be and friends ? 
 Yet there are those whose eyes have seen 
 How close that intercourse hath been. 
 ^\'ell to my tale ! 
 
 Alaimed and pained, 
 When I our peaceful home regained, 
 I sent a message to demand 
 Protection at Lord Staunton's hand 
 From insult offered by his guest. 
 And passed the night, but not in rest. 
 The morning brought me for reply 
 The author of that injury. 
 In proper person. Sobered now, 
 With humbler look and .smoother brow, 
 In fulling plume and velvet vest, 
 And much of curious foppery drest ; 
 lie came with many a fair excuse, 
 For the last evening's rude abuse, 
 Through guilty head confused and light 
 By wounds received in Edgehill's fight ; 
 And to my daughter, much be jirayed, 
 His own excuses might be made. 
 These I declined ; and since that tide 
 My Marion has not Irt't my side : 
 For there wa.s that within his look, 
 Tliat iiKiik'st maiden ill may lirook ;
 
 THE DEPARirRE. 41 
 
 And wary watch needs shepherd hold, 
 When prowls the wolf-cub round the fold. 
 
 : xxiT. 
 
 " Now, Reginald Vere, if such the man, 
 Something, I deem, of desperate plan 
 Against the Crown's and Church's friends 
 Such ill assorted league portends. 
 If T'ommins Charles's armies guide, 
 Ka[>pers o'er Church's faith preside. 
 The time may come in either host 
 When love and order shall be lost. 
 Though loud the one may play his part, 
 If boastful tongue hide traitor heart, 
 Thy sire may wish the leading thine 
 When breaks in lli2;ht the scattered line. 
 Though well the other preach and pray, 
 If he conduct his flock away, 
 W'hat matter how he may profess 
 To love the Church's holiness 1 
 The Church might rather wish to prove 
 A Nye or ^Marshall's' tiger-love. 
 
 XXIII. 
 
 " Yes, danger threatens. This I mark : 
 And, if my heart seems low, 
 
 i Two powerful preachers of the rebel party. Marshall was most 
 known. Clarendon, vol. ii. p. 450.
 
 42 THE DEPARTUUE. 
 
 'Tis that it cometh in the dark, 
 We kuow not whence or how. 
 Like to some town besieged I wait 
 The invaders' summons at the gate, 
 
 With something like distress : 
 But, when the invaders' blast is blown, 
 And when the invaders' flag is shewn, 
 The peril then distinctly known 
 
 Will awe the bosom less. 
 When it is come, my path is plain : 
 iMay He my failing heart sustain, 
 \\'ithout whose grace all strength is vain ! 
 Your purpose, Vere ?" — 
 
 With mournful voice 
 lijj)licd the youth " I have no chuicc, 
 But to obey my sire's command : 
 To bear these lines to Hopton's hand, 
 And at his will resign my band ; 
 Then seek from thence some loyal lord, 
 And proffer liim my heart and sword, 
 Till, by Heaven's mercy (|uelled, at last 
 This tyranny be overpast." 
 
 XXIV. 
 
 Sailiy the i)riest retinned ;— " Young friuud, 
 
 Exj)ect not thou a speedy end 
 
 To those sad wars ! Easy the sin 
 
 The strife of nations to begin, 
 
 iSut wiio shall l)id such tumult cease, 
 
 And angry passionsrest in jicace ?
 
 THE DEPAKTURE. 4'.' 
 
 May God protect the guiltless head ! 
 
 The vial of His wrath is shed 
 
 Upon the land ; and who dares say, 
 
 How soon that wrath may pass away ? 
 
 The rebel Commons dare not yield : 
 
 Nor dares the monarch quit the field, 
 
 Trusting his honour and his throne 
 
 To those who no allegiance own. 
 
 But strive, like fiends, to trample down 
 
 The rights of sceptre and of crown. 
 
 The moderate mourn their thoughtless heat, 
 
 But may not, if they would, reti-eat. 
 
 Whilst the ambitious, mad and vain, 
 
 Struggling for power, or hate, or gain, 
 
 Must each his separate aim contest, 
 
 Till one outstruggle fi-om the rest. 
 
 And rule the land Avith iron rod. 
 
 Fierce engine of the wrath of God. 
 
 XXV. 
 
 " As one, who guides in thoughtless play 
 
 His shallop to the verge 
 Of some wild torrent's heady way : 
 
 He nears the deafening surge. 
 He sees the white foam toss ou high, 
 He feels the current sweeping by. 
 
 He hears its hollow tone ; 
 In vain, with horror in his face. 
 He strives his passage to retrace 
 For every hope is gone.
 
 44 THE DEPARTURE. 
 
 In vain he toils with hvbouring oar, 
 Fast and more fast recedes the shore ; 
 Nearer and nearer swells the roar ; 
 The foam's white flakes fall thicker o'er ; 
 
 The stream shoots swifter on, 
 Hurrying him down the steep abyss 
 In stunn'd and abject helplessness : 
 So sweep in helpless cuiTent do\vn 
 The struggling Commons and the Crown. 
 
 XXVI. 
 
 " Meanwhile the changing fickle crowd, 
 Who yelled their accusations loud 
 At tyrant breach of country's laws, 
 Fawning behold with mean applause. 
 Triumphant in the monarch's hall, 
 A hundred kings and tyi-ants all. 
 Yes, there they sit, the usurping tniin : 
 ]\Ialigiiant I'yni, and ci-alty \'anc ^ ; 
 And Iloliis with vindictive eye ; 
 And Saint John's sullen dignity. 
 I know them well, and more must kmnv. 
 If no kind mercy spares the blow, 
 
 J Mr. Pyin, Ilumhilcii, uiiil Hitiiit John, witc coiisiiicrcd the ciij^iiu' 
 lliut movi'd ihi- whole imrliiitiii'iil, (C'liir., vol. i. p. 2HH,) hut HuiiihiliMi 
 hull bi'i'ii killrd at (Uml({riivt' ii niiiuth pri'viously, (Cliiri'iuloii, vol. ii. 
 p. 392.) Pym w riillcil mrili(fniinl, for tliL- Hiiiinosity which (lisliii«ui?*ho(l 
 liim in the pront'cnlioii of LorJ HtriilT"oril, (Cliireii., vol. ii. p. (594.) 
 Mr. Siiiiit John in di'm-rihi'd us u rfwervi'd prourl ninii, (vol. i. p. 
 2ri8 ) Hir Hurry Vnne in culled hy Clureinloii a mun of profound dis- 
 itimulutinn, Cvol. i. p. 2'i9,) nml (he purl tuketi hy Dun'/.i! HoUis ix bh- 
 cribcd by the Nuine uutlior to ruveii){i>, (vol. i. p. 291.)
 
 THE DEPARTURE. 45 
 
 If angry Heaven prolongs the hour 
 Of strength to democratic power. 
 Enough of this, the morning wears, 
 And see ! our quiet home appears." 
 
 XXVII. 
 
 Gravely thus the Rector spoke, 
 
 When, embowered in ancient trees, 
 On their view the cottage broke, 
 
 Facing to the southern breeze. 
 In the front a garden spread, 
 
 Sunniest of all sunny spots ; 
 Gay with many a varied bed, 
 
 Flowery edges, laurel plots ; 
 Hedge of wild briar all around 
 
 Dares the sportive lambs to pass. 
 That without the charmed ground 
 
 Crop the velvet tufted grass. 
 Up the window, trained with care, 
 
 Rose and jasmine twine their leaves, 
 And the honeysuckle there 
 
 Hangs its flower-bells in the eaves. 
 Where that sheltered wicket small 
 
 Bounds the footpath to the right. 
 Yellow stone-crop skirts the wall, 
 
 Wall-flower brown and cresses white. 
 There the blackbird, free as heaven. 
 
 Child of music, skims along, 
 Many a petty theft forgiven 
 
 For the sweetness of its song.
 
 46 THE DEl'ARTURE. 
 
 Where those trees surround the nook, 
 
 Many an ancient burgher dwells : 
 Cawing whirls the busy rook 
 
 Round its airy citadels. 
 With her head upon her breast, 
 
 Sheltered from the noonday shower, 
 There the pigeon on her nest 
 
 Coos within the ruined tower. 
 Barks the house-dog on the mat. 
 
 Doubtful barks, then bounds to meet 
 On the rushes puri's the cat, 
 
 At the sound of welcoming feet. 
 Little voices laugh and shout 
 
 With their merry merry ring : 
 Little heads are peeping out, 
 
 Little hearts are fluttering ; 
 Little steps are by his side, 
 
 jNIarion's matron care is vain : 
 Do you tliink she really tried 
 
 To keep back the fairy train ? 
 Now he stops : he stoops to kiss : 
 
 Prattle, totter, back they come. 
 Gentle reader, what is this l 
 
 This is Morley's welcome home.
 
 © a n 1 ^ c c n D. 
 
 PART FIRST. 
 
 Z\)c ^3urttan. 
 
 ' Faithful Napper' the Rector of Complon on the Moor is in- 
 troduced in his stuhj. Commin visiting him, and remonstrating 
 against the part assigned to him, yields to Napper's overpower iiicr 
 influence, and sets forth fur the camp. 
 
 His faded brow 
 Intrench'd with many a frown, and conic beard 
 And spreading baud, admired by modem saints. 
 Disastrous acts forbode. 
 
 John Philips, Splendid Shilling. 
 
 By his gracious Creator to man has been given 
 One share in the highest enjoyments of Heaven, 
 The shedding of blessings on others around : 
 Nor one can so poor or so lowly be found, 
 Of sphere so contracted, of influence so light, 
 Of talents so humble, of fortune so slight, 
 To whom this high favour by God is denied. 
 It is not to wealth or to genius allied ; 
 It is not in beauty, in strength, or in grace ; 
 It is not in outward position or place ;
 
 48 THE PURITAN. 
 
 It is in that secret and inner retreat, 
 
 That that hapjiiest privilege holdeth its seat, 
 
 In the secret, the inmost, recess of the soul, 
 
 Where it dwells and diffuses it^ warmth thro' the whol 
 
 Of the system within. Nor there stayeth alone, 
 But passes abroad and exerts its control, 
 
 By the light of its spirit, the health of its tone. 
 
 Creating a climate of joy of its own. 
 Oh happy are they, who experience the bliss 
 Of the warmth of an atmosphere joyous as this ! 
 Oh happy arc they, to whom grace has been given 
 To improve that most gi-acious endowment of Heaven ! 
 
 II. 
 
 By the author of evil a power has been lent 
 
 Unto man, wretched man, over others around, 
 The spreading of gloom o'er the brow of content. 
 
 Nor one can so high or so favoured be found. 
 So lofty in station, so noble in l>irth. 
 So rich in the perishing riches of earth, 
 Who may not in spite of them all in his mind 
 Have nursed that diirlc gift of the foe of nianlciml. 
 Oh woe to the victim ! the black spot, tliat's bred 
 III ilie innermost heart, will soon rankle and spread. 
 Oh woe to his circle ! the sha<lows diffuse 
 Throughout all that it tnuchcth tlie gloom of its hues. 
 As the sun l>y the dark sky of winter is screened. 
 So spreads o'er God's goodness the shroud of the fiend. 
 Till all, that is gracious and lovely below. 
 Is lost ill an endless o'crshadowing of woe.
 
 THE PURITAN, 4^ 
 
 III. 
 
 It is insult to God the Creator, to seem 
 
 To all the good works of His Providence blind : 
 To walk thro' the world, like a man in a dream, 
 
 Who sees hut the fancies that prey on his mind 
 In visions of horror ; whose visage partakes 
 Of the gloom of his thoughts, and he trembles and shaken 
 At his terrors unreal, regardless of truth : 
 
 Whilst those, whom no fanciful shadows enlace 
 Can join in the musical laughter of youth. 
 
 Or delight in the sober enjoyments of age. 
 
 It is insult to God the Redeemer, who stood 
 
 The friend of mankind from their purity hurled ; 
 Who wrote on His Cross in His own blessed blood 
 
 His last benediction of ' love to the world.' 
 It is insult to God the Redeemer, who came 
 To rescue mankind from their birthright of shame : 
 To stalk thro' that world which His footsteps have trod, 
 Which His presence has blest with the presence of God, 
 A God of all mercy : and only to wear 
 One brow of moroseness, one look of despair, 
 As though aspect like this the affection could move 
 Of God, the Redeemer, the Godhead of love ! 
 
 It is insult to God, to that holiest One 
 
 The Spirit of counsel, the pure, and the wise, 
 
 Who, sent from the Father by prayer of the Son, 
 III the heai'ts of His servants theii- presence supplies ;
 
 50 TBK PUKII'AN, 
 
 To deem that the trappings of sorrow become 
 The temple on earth which He takes for His home 
 To deem that discomfort beseemeth the face 
 Of the Comforter's children, the children of grace. 
 
 IV. 
 
 And yet religionists have been, 
 
 Who made religion lie 
 In surly gravity of mien. 
 
 And sullenness of eye ; 
 In rigid look and solemn dress, 
 
 Wilh studied phrases joined. 
 And all the tokens that express 
 
 A melancholy mind. 
 Ai>art from harmless joy and mirth, 
 
 That gives the heart relief, 
 'I'hey wandered through this lovely earth, 
 
 The fonnalists of grief. 
 
 V. 
 
 And would that this was all they sought ! 
 
 That each his liile had spent, 
 In cherishing his own dark thought 
 Of moody discontent ; 
 
 Nor sought from his c<t»tracted brow's 
 A baleful glijoin to shed ■». 
 
 On all around, aliuve, below, 
 
 As that dread tree whose deadly bough's
 
 THE PUHIiAN. 61 
 
 Can poison from their juices throw, 
 And sicken where they spread ! 
 
 VI. 
 
 And would that this were all they sought ! 
 
 This, that they could not brook 
 Within themselves the joyous thought ; 
 
 "W^ithout, the joyous look ; 
 This, that they sought to banish glee 
 
 And gladness from the land, 
 As though a smile were blasphemy 
 
 Against ' the Book's' command. 
 But that they judged the heart within 
 
 From a constrained grimace. 
 As though it were a part of sin 
 
 To wear a happy face : 
 But that they hunted to the death 
 
 In hypocritic fear. 
 All those who doubted of a faith 
 
 So chilling and so drear : 
 But that, humility denied. 
 In insolence of sullen jiride 
 They dared all order to deride. 
 
 All others' faith condemn, 
 And made their own phylacteries wide. 
 
 And spread their garments' hem. 
 
 YII. 
 
 Such was that stern unlovely sect. 
 Nor was it easv to detect,
 
 52 THE PrRIlAN. 
 
 ^^'ho erred hy foult of head or heart, 
 ^^'ho played a weak but honest part, 
 Or who assumed the outward guise 
 To cheat the gaping nation's eyes. 
 For still in that professing age, 
 Purblind by zeal and party rage, 
 An easy task it was to borrow 
 A formal mien of decent sorrow ; 
 And aided thus by harsh restraint 
 The sourest sinner seemed the saint ; 
 The greatest hypocrite became 
 The greatest Puritan, in name. 
 But wherefore dwell on vague abuse ? 
 
 Draw we the veil aside. 
 And 'midst his labours introduce 
 
 The neighbouring parish guide : 
 Rector of Compton-on-the-Moor, 
 That pious man, so good and pure. 
 So grave, so solemn, so demure. 
 
 And, oh ! so sanctified. 
 
 ' VIII. 
 
 Yes, surely he was this, all this. 
 Selected for his part 
 
 By those who could not judge amiss, 
 Those who professed the art 
 Of searching out the human heart. 
 
 And by external signs could scan 
 
 The inward attributes of man.
 
 THE PURITAN.. «^3 
 
 Yes, such were they who sat in chair 
 
 Of sage committee'', to restrain 
 All Church abuses, and repair 
 
 The injuries that pride or gain, 
 Or truckling to the man of sin, 
 
 Had brought upon her hallowed walls, 
 By bringing pious pastoi's in, 
 
 Most pious, whom the spirit calls 
 To crouch in every thought and deed 
 To their despotic Patron's creed. 
 And so they seized the Church's lands : 
 
 They seized her wealth, they changed her laws, 
 And laid the weisrht of iron hands 
 
 On all who loved her holy cause : 
 A power self-constitute, I ween, 
 
 A power deceitful and most base, 
 But one, that wore a pious mien, 
 
 And cheated with a godly face : 
 A power, that on the Church had crept, 
 Whilst weak or false her rulers slept, 
 
 By inches to her inmost part ; 
 Then from its core a serpent leapt 
 
 And stung its mother to the heart : 
 Nor longer deigned to wear the mask, 
 
 But all its hideous form revealed, 
 Finished the half-completed task. 
 
 And crushed the shrine where once it kneeled. 
 
 k The Committee for removing sciinJalotis ministers —being u 
 hraneh of the grand committee of religion, further divided intoeountry 
 eoramittees called. Committees of Se<iuestratiou : for the aeeouut of 
 whose proceedings, see Walker's Sufferings of the Clergy, part i pp. 
 63, 87.
 
 54 THE PURITAN. 
 
 IX. 
 
 Snch were the men, who, to secure 
 A Gospel prenching good and pure, 
 Had dealt with Compton-on-the-Moor. 
 And he, who held from such his post, 
 flight he excused the jiioiis boast, 
 That " faithful Xapj>er" should be found 
 Faithful amidst the dumb dogs round, 
 And that his trumpet-blast alone 
 Should never yield uncertain tone. 
 
 X. 
 
 See where he sits ! may we intrude 
 Upon bis meditative mood ? 
 Dure we approach that dismal room 
 All dark with a sej>ulchral gloom 
 P'rom solemn hangings, that deny 
 The cheerful light of God's own sky, 
 And (lod's own sun, to jjcnetrate 
 Upon his solitary state ? 
 See where he sits ! with bony hand, 
 , Smoothing his pious length "f band, 
 Which falling o'er his vest of serge 
 Keacbes the girdle's topmost verge. 
 Beside him on the tabic thrown 
 Ilis towering hat with steeple crown,
 
 THE PURITAN. 55 
 
 His cloak of dull religious shade 
 
 Iq true Genevan pattern made. 
 
 See where he sits ! his visage mark ! 
 
 There is not aught so grim and dark 
 
 In all the grim and dark around, 
 
 As in those shaggy brows is found. 
 
 His cheek bones prominent and high : 
 
 His sad and discontented eye : 
 
 His close cut hair, whose bristles spread 
 
 In graceless masses o'er his head : 
 
 And the cold sneer, that seems to speak, 
 
 In union with his faded cheek, 
 
 Of triumph in his task to bear 
 
 His chilling message of despair 
 To more than half the world : 
 
 As though the thought of those, who strove 
 
 In vain to gain their Father's love, 
 
 Who wept and prayed and kneeled in vain, 
 
 Part of a reprobated train, 
 
 God's partial mercy to obtain. 
 His lip contemptuous curled ; 
 
 Mocking the fruitless toils which seek 
 
 From their predestmed doom to break. 
 
 There might be other cause for sneer, 
 
 In faithful tapper's mind. 
 Thus far he sits the likeness here 
 
 Of his unhappy kind, 
 In whose stern looks we seem to read 
 The tenets of their iron creed, 
 Reflecting back that fearful hell. 
 On which their choicest pictures dwell.
 
 .^6 THE PURITAN. 
 
 XI. 
 
 Does aught remain for artist's pen 
 To paint the enthusiast in his den ? 
 
 Yes, touches yet remain, 
 -Minute and fine, which form a part 
 Of the dark windings of a heart 
 
 'J'hrough a distempered brain. 
 That lofty mullioned window view, 
 Where once through tints of varied hue 
 The enamoured sun with borrowed ray 
 Poured in the many-coloured day. 
 The storied tracery, now defaced, 
 By shapeless sashes is replaced : 
 Where the offending painting bore 
 Some saint or martyr's face of yore, 
 
 In rich device dis])layed, 
 Which, scrupulous, the j>astor's sight 
 Forbade to pour unholy light 
 
 Through superstitious shade ; 
 Disfiguring the unconscious glass 
 Through wliich the mute reflections pass. 
 
 XII. 
 
 IJehold that portrait now reversed, 
 .And turned to face the wall ! 
 
 None was so glorified at first, 
 In palace and in hall ; 
 
 But now cstceniod a thing accursed, 
 I)isgraced beyond recall.
 
 THE rURITAN. 
 
 Woiildst thou those lineaments espy, 
 Thus doomed to cold indignity 1 
 
 Survey the space behind ! 
 That oval fiice of majesty, 
 
 ^lark of a kingly mind : 
 The peaked beard ; the full clear eye 
 8ad with prophetic augury ; 
 
 The features grave but kind ; 
 The parted locks of deepest brown. 
 That o'er his jewelled ears hang down ; 
 The George and Collar on his breast, 
 England's first order and her best : 
 Tan these disgrace on Churchman bring ? 
 God of the Church ! It is the King. 
 
 XIII. 
 
 More wouldst thou seek ? those volumes view ! 
 
 Few are they, and how sad those few ! 
 
 There ' Calvin's Institutes' have place, 
 
 There ' Austin on elective Grace,' 
 
 With Pryn and all his libellous race. 
 
 (Woe to the policy, that shred 
 
 The traitor's ears, and si)ared his head '.) 
 
 Whilst he, who owned the whole, 
 Rested his elbow on that book, 
 On which, entbe, he dared not look ; 
 
 But from a portion stole 
 The few dark verses, which agreed 
 With his own arbitrary creed. 
 Waved them aloft as fiery rods, 
 Proclaimed his faith, and called it God's ! 
 
 57
 
 58 THE PURITAN. 
 
 XIV. 
 
 A hasty step is on the stair : 
 
 A hand is on the door. 
 He looked with an alistracted air 
 
 One moment, and no more. 
 Then sunk his eyes to earth a^ain, 
 Or ere the steps the chamber gain, 
 As though no earthly sounds had power 
 To win him from his studious hour. 
 He starts : a hand arrests his arm, 
 
 A voice assails his ear. 
 With mixed displeasure and alarm, 
 
 '• Oommin, what makes you here ? 
 What makes you here in light of day, 
 Who should by this be far away?" 
 Harshly he spoke, as hasty stride 
 
 Bore through the room a figure tall, 
 Till paused the Rector's chair beside 
 
 The dangerous guest of Staunton Hall 
 
 XV. 
 
 " What makes me here ? 'tis well to ask 
 Briefly, I covet not the task. 
 
 Your project would assign : 
 Have no desire to (piit my post, 
 The tyrant's cause nnist needs l)c lost, 
 
 \N'ith aiding none of mine.
 
 THE PURITAN. 59 
 
 What matter, if a score or two 
 
 Of spears be falsely led ? 
 Ten thousand troopers, good and true, 
 Will ne'er from that ferocious crew 
 
 Defend King Charles's head ; 
 Whilst speed or fail, I nothing gain 
 By such adventure, and remain." 
 
 XVI. 
 
 " How now ? remain, against our will?" 
 
 Napper returned. " Nay, peace, be still :" 
 
 For, ere the hasty sentence closed. 
 
 The impetuous man had interposed. 
 
 Had not the Rector, as he stin-ed, 
 
 By voice and gesture checked the word. 
 
 " How now '? remain ? is all forgot, 
 
 The end of this successful plot, 
 
 To urge the father's anger on 
 
 To drive from home his dangerous son, 
 
 And in the zealous Churchman's place 
 
 Insert an heir of freer grace, 
 
 Who may his patron's forces wield 
 
 With just discretion in the field, 
 
 If not to royal Charles's hann. 
 
 At least the better to disarm 
 
 Resistance, and to keep afar 
 
 The kindred forces in the war. 
 
 Should the good cause, or Fairfax' powers. 
 
 Demand the use of Staunton's towers ? 
 
 No more of this ! a wasted day 
 
 Is wasting more. Good friend, away !"
 
 CO TBE PUKITAV. 
 
 XVII. 
 
 " Your plan is naught," with surly look 
 Commin replied, " nor will I brook 
 Such goodly schemes, which claim that I, 
 Where p'kes are broke, and bullets fly, 
 Should be the mark of every aim. 
 Where fortune points to easier game. 
 Must that young gallant be removed 
 Because he makes the cause beloved ? 
 lie should have kept his post, and led 
 Where danger called ; and, had he sped 
 Ov well or ill, had chanced to fall 
 Before some well-directed ball. 
 .Must Staunton's castle change its lord ? 
 An easy door might one afford, 
 Who dwells within ; and, as he needs, 
 Its doting master's conscience leads. 
 Be then the conquest gained or lost, 
 In Staunton's hall I keep my post." 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 " And why not, sir," with bitter frown 
 The Rector answered, " nither own 
 The reason of this late remorse. 
 This sudden change of .settled course ? 
 Why not confess, that all gives {dace 
 To passion for a liuby face I 
 That, having spread successful snare, 
 Banished from home the fonnal heir,
 
 THE PURITAN. 61 
 
 Hatched stories' of suspicious dread, 
 By which the simple folk are led 
 To overthrow their best defence, 
 Till Staunton's lord, in mere offence 
 And wrath at disappointed pride, 
 That Morley had his power denied 
 His church to govern or to guide, 
 
 Is i-eady any course to take. 
 His Church, his rules, his faith to change. 
 Go any lengths to buy revenge ? 
 
 And now, with all prepared, thy stake 
 Thus to tling from thee for the sake 
 Of a mere Par&i>n's rustic child ! — 
 I laugh to see thee thus beguiled." 
 And, as he spoke, he almost smiled. 
 But 'twas a smile of cheerless ray, 
 Like frosty sun iu winter's day. 
 " Commin, enough ! the hours wear on ; 
 Once more l^ governed, and be gone." 
 
 XIX. 
 
 " Forbear your taunts — \\'ho springs 
 
 Will pause the event to share. 
 When bursting from the hollow line 
 
 The frag-ments fill the air. 
 And lo, the prize within his reach 
 Discovered by the smoking breach. 
 Who spreads the net around a bay. 
 Will scarcely turn his steps away, 
 Nor watch his art's success :
 
 62 TUB po.i:t.\\'. 
 
 When all, the imprisoned wave within, 
 Is eddying with the frequent fin 
 And splashing tail, in wild amaze 
 As on the pebbly sand they graze, 
 
 And waxing less and less 
 The shallowing waters scarcely hide 
 The struggling tenants of the tide, 
 Whilst he, who spread the net, will stand 
 And watch the prizes to the land, 
 Lest gi'eedy comrades snatch the spoil 
 That should repay his anxious toil. 
 So, Najjper, leave not I undone 
 My prosperous work, the prize unwon, 
 Jicst crafty followers bear away 
 'J he hard-earned guerdon of the day." 
 
 XX. 
 
 " Suspicious fool !" the Rector cried : 
 
 " Is there another knave l)eside 
 
 Would quarrel for a sickly fair. 
 
 With all Lord Staunton's wealth to share ? 
 
 Gold, Comniin, is their aim, for gold 
 
 The half of England's bought and sold. 
 
 Power, title, honour, all obtain. 
 
 Under the sacred name of gain. 
 
 (io, sir, and trust your precious prize 
 
 With one, who has nor heart nor eyes 
 
 Fur sucli liglit gauds, except to guard 
 
 Both heart and eyes in faithful ward 
 
 Against that trciicherous stock of Eve, 
 
 For ever powerful to deceive.
 
 THE PURITAN. C3 
 
 From Isaac's wife and Heber's, down 
 To her, who perils Charles's crown '. 
 Once more I question, Do you go I" 
 
 XXI. 
 
 'Twere hard to tell if wrath or fear 
 Curled Comraiu's lip with cynic sneer : 
 " Napper, I answer, no ! 
 I would not trust your canting crew : 
 I would not trust, not. Faithful, you, 
 For the short trial of a week 
 With a red lip and cherry cheek, 
 Lest there should hap in doubtful case 
 An accidental lapse from grace. 
 The evil spirit knows his own, 
 Spite of sour looks and drawling tone ; 
 And height of hat, and breadth of gown 
 Keep no rebellious passions down 
 Tush, sir ! the fiend will whisper in 
 His soft provocatives to sin : 
 Whether above the listening ear. 
 That opes, the tempter's voice to hear, 
 
 ' The queen, upon whom, iicrnrding to the Puritans, tlie priiiiipnl 
 :ame rested, of the kinij's uiipopulur measures. 
 
 Neal, the defender of all the acts of the Puritans, expressly lays the 
 ilameof all the king's misfortunes on her majesty. He writes thus: 
 •' In order to excuse the unhappy king who was sacrificed in the house 
 of his friends, a load of guilt is with justice laid upon the queen." He 
 also quotes from Bishop Burnet, " to the queen's want of judgment, 
 and the king's own temper, the sequel of all his misfortunes was owing." 
 And from Bishop Kennet, " the influence of a stately queen over an 
 affectionate husband proved very fatal both to prince and people." — 
 History of the Puritaus, vol. ii. chap. 12. page 605.
 
 04 THE PUEITAN. 
 
 The Cavalier with graceful curls 
 
 The bauner of his sect unfurls ; 
 
 Or zealot crop precisely spread, 
 
 Such as surmounts your worship's head. 
 
 Nay, spare your frowns ! what needs deceit, 
 
 When old allies and comrades meet ? 
 
 Enough : I will not trust the eye 
 
 Of licence or hypocrisy. 
 
 To me the loss would be the same, 
 
 If oath, or snuffle, win the game. 
 
 1 go not hence." 
 
 XXTT. 
 
 A sudden light 
 Flashed from the Rector's eye so bright, 
 So dazzling in its angry blaze, 
 That Commin .shrunk beneath the gaze. 
 " You go not ]" ere his doubtful tongue 
 Could frame reply, hath Napper sprung 
 Forth from his seat with glance comprest, 
 As though he proljcd his inmost breast ; 
 A moment raised his hands on high. 
 And. but it might be phantasy, 
 They seemed united in a sign 
 One instant, of a shape divine. 
 Yes, phantasy it must have been : 
 For such a sign as this, I ween, 
 But ill accorded with the scene ; 
 And such a sign, by foes abused, 
 A man so holy had not used.
 
 THE rURITAN. 65 
 
 XXIII. 
 
 Yet has there surely been some charm 
 In those joined hands, that could alarm 
 And such a stubborn will disarm, 
 Bowed down by that mysterious spell. 
 The haughty look of Commin fell : 
 Faltered his step, and drooped his head, 
 And from his cheek the crimson fled. 
 Then, with half hesitating scowl, 
 Obedient to the strong control, 
 Hasted his mantle to resume, 
 Placed on his brow his hat and plume, 
 " Faithful, I go," and left the room ; 
 Without a word or gesture more, 
 Until he passed the outer door : 
 Iv'or long the space. A horse's feet 
 Rung on the ear in quick retreat ; 
 Echoed along the mill-dam's side, 
 And far away in distance died.
 
 © a n 1 ^ e c n t». 
 
 PART SECOND. 
 
 Ttife puritan. 
 
 Faithful Napper receives a deputation of the discontented 
 from Morlei/s parish, and advises with thrm concerning the best 
 means of overthrowing tfie government of the Church in Staunton 
 Fere : Napper sends a messenger to inform those concerned, of 
 the success of his schemes. 
 
 And yet this art to varnish o'er the shame 
 01\ sacrilege, must boar devotion's name. 
 
 Siu Jou.N Denham, Cooper's Hill, ver. 125. 
 
 Will you enforce me to a world of cares ? 
 Well, call them again ; I am not made of stone. 
 But ponotrablo to your kind entreaties, 
 Albeit against my conscience and my soul. 
 
 Ric. III. Act iii. Sc. 6. 
 
 Mabclo. What would you do 
 
 To purchai'e lliis or more 'f 
 (inACULO. Do ! any tiling: 
 
 To burn a cliurcli or two, and dance by the light on"t. 
 
 Were but a May-game. 
 
 Massingbb, The Bondman. 
 
 *' A GOODLY mate !" in scornful tone 
 
 The Hector .Hjiiil, once moio Jilonc, 
 
 As ciiliniiif^ down lii.s .smlden heat 
 
 lie flung him on a ncigUl)0uring scat. 
 
 " Well ! there are some amongst mankind, 
 
 WhoMi neither Hen.se nor faith can hind, 
 
 When their unruly passion.s hliud ;
 
 THE PCUITAN. 67 
 
 And superstition's iron sway- 
 Alone can curb their headlong way. 
 And there are those, who make pretence 
 To yield to nought but faith or sense ; 
 ^V'hose craft to wise men shews the same, 
 Although it bear a different name. 
 It is our part to yield to each 
 His own peculiar fonn of speech ; 
 Each in his character to meet 
 Of stubborn pride or self-conceit ; 
 Cajoling, threatening, fawning, frightening. 
 The reins now loosening and now tiarhteuiu":. 
 So long as none may dare to swerve 
 In interest from the power we serve. 
 Commin in love ! 'twere goodly thing 
 To couple him by book and ring. 
 And leave the gentle dame to fight 
 With some few claimants for her right ; 
 For such a mate, for such a bride. 
 Would be a thorn in i\Torley's side. 
 But no — for him the toils are set. 
 And here are those must draw the net." 
 
 II. 
 
 There is a step upon the stair, 
 
 A hand upon the door : 
 Again with grave abstracted air 
 
 lie turns him to the floor. 
 Buries his ej'e-brows in his hand, 
 As though he would all force withstand
 
 68 THE PURITAN. 
 
 Of outward senses to intrude 
 
 Upon his fruitful solitude. 
 
 A heavy foot the drapery shakes : 
 
 A heavy voice the silence breaks ; 
 
 Whose measured notes, Avith solemn twang, 
 
 Through all the echoing chamber rang. 
 
 III. 
 
 " Thou ' Faithful' justly called, thou light 
 
 Amidst this land's ^Egyptian night, 
 
 As to the holy man of yore, 
 
 Who dwelt by Joppa's favoured shore, 
 
 The message came, ' behold there wait 
 
 Three men thy coining at the gate,' 
 
 80 do I come to thee to shew 
 
 That pious brethren wait below. 
 
 They come from that benighted place. 
 
 Shut out from all the gleams of grace, 
 
 A\'hcrc the malignant Morley "' feeds 
 
 His famished Hock on barren meads : 
 
 Lo ! I am come, to bid thee say 
 
 To those who wander in the way, 
 
 ' Come forth into the light of day !' 
 
 Lo I I am come, to cry ' be bold, 
 
 The wolf is ravening in the fold ; 
 
 Oird up thy loins, the warning swell, 
 
 Unto thy tents, oh Israel !' " 
 
 IV. 
 
 " Alas, good man !" with pious tone 
 Devoutly doleful as his own, 
 
 "' " Miili(;nuiit," (iiiyn Dr. JoliiiNon in h\n Dictionary, "wiis a word 
 uiicci oftliu (IcrenilorM of thu Church uiid iMoiiiirrhy Iiy thu rubol Hcctu- 
 rii'b iu tliu civil wur."
 
 THE PURITAN. 6d 
 
 Raising his mournful hands and eyes, 
 
 In holy fervour to the skies, 
 
 The faithful Napper spoke : " My friend, 
 
 When will these mighty wrestlings end ? 
 
 \Mien will this evil spirit cease, 
 
 And let the godly rest in peace ? 
 
 I cmve not, nor I may not seek 
 
 This business. Is it for the meek, 
 
 The humble, the abased as I, 
 
 To take the place of dignity, 
 
 In rescuing these poor lambs from stain 
 
 Of beggar elements ? again, 
 
 Shall I refuse to say, ' I run,' 
 
 A\hen love's great work is to be done ? 
 
 Admit them, Amos ! I will say, 
 
 That I am feeble, but will pray 
 
 'i'hey may have help upon their way." 
 
 V. 
 
 They came : the deputation came, 
 
 With heavy look and tread ; 
 With every one a difterent aim, 
 
 Concerted in his head, 
 And every one a different name. 
 
 For all he thought or said. 
 One was there, who complaint preferred 
 
 Because the prayers were long ; 
 And he had likewise somewhere heard. 
 
 That something else was wrong : 
 And so forsooth his bile was stirred, 
 
 And so he joined the throng ;
 
 70 THE PURITAN. 
 
 Lest, if he lingered in the lurch, 
 
 When he should feel inclined, 
 Which he seldom did, to come to church, 
 
 Something might rex his mind. 
 Then came another, who from youth 
 
 Hated the Church's plan. 
 But had been forced to cloak the truth, 
 
 And stint the inward man ; 
 Because he held a little place, 
 
 And had something in his eye ; 
 And so he mourned his grievous case, 
 
 And put his conscience by : 
 Till, when he found the Parliament 
 
 Espoused the other side, 
 His conscience became violent. 
 
 And would not be denied. 
 And there was one, who held a spot 
 
 Under Lord SUiunton's hand, 
 Who wished to add unto his lot 
 
 Another nook of land ; 
 And, when he heard my lord was vexed 
 
 By Morley's sturdy brow, 
 Although he was in truth perplexed 
 At what might be demanded next, 
 
 Or what was wanted now, 
 It was very just my lord should know 
 How many strings were to his bow, 
 And how exactly be agreed 
 With every point in his lordship's creed. 
 
 There was one who objected to give alms ", 
 He was richer than all the rest, 
 
 » A mdiiffhl till' iiiiiipviiliiiiiH ill (lihiii'liiir rrporti-il liy the Siilj-Com- 
 IDIttoe of Accuniniudutiuii, MurvU 12th, 1041, i» lucuiioufd "lutro-
 
 THE PURITAN. 
 
 But he said, that he had serious qualms 
 In his conscientious breast, 
 
 As though he sought to win a place 
 By his good deeds in heaven : 
 
 It must have been a little space, 
 
 That was purchased by the condign grace 
 Of the alms that he had given. 
 
 There was one who somehow had connected 
 Church discipline with tithe", 
 
 And thought, if one could be rejected, 
 
 The other would not be respected, 
 And therefore was he blithe 
 To make attack on Church's laws 
 With due regard for final cause. 
 Poor ^vretch ! he little knew, 
 That not a man of all the crew. 
 
 Whose clamours filled the hour, 
 Of all the wonders they would do, 
 
 When they had gotten power. 
 Would let slip from their godly hands 
 One acre of the Chui'ch's lands. 
 No ! they might alter food and raiment, 
 But not one item of the payment. 
 
 duciug an offertory before the Communion, besides the giving alms to 
 the poor afterwards." — Neal's History of the Puritans, vol. ii. chap. ix. 
 The objection seems to have been principally levelled against the 
 time and place of offering, as for instance " offering at the Commu- 
 nion-Table," " receiving alms and oblations from church-wardens, 
 laying them on the book, blessing them and offering them." — Instruc- 
 tions to the Uuiversitipji. 
 
 " In the account of the ejection of Dr. Henry Watkins from Sutton 
 Underbrailes, Gloucestershire, Walker remarks,'" It appeared that the 
 design of the quarrel was to get the Doctor turned out of his living, in 
 hopes to have their tythes at au easier rate from his successor." — Suf- 
 ferings of the Clergy, part ii. p. 39S . See appendix. 
 
 71
 
 72 THE PURITAK, 
 
 VI. 
 
 These were the deputation — uo ; 
 
 There were a few besides, 
 Who had contrived with little show 
 
 To be the others' guides p. 
 And smoothly used them as their tools, 
 To overturn the barrier rules, 
 \\'hich still restrained with watchful hold 
 The ranks of Jlorley's little fold. 
 A few of the disordered sect, 
 That called themselves " the Lord's elect," 
 And claimed to be, to common weal, 
 As leaven in the woman's meal. 
 (If leaven's sour, they might express 
 Its malice and its bitterness.) 
 It was their anvil without sound, 
 That forged the darts that Hew around, 
 And, where they entered, lixed their wound. 
 
 VII. 
 
 From them the lips bare empty part, 
 rnechoed by the sense or heart, 
 That sermons, homilies, were nought 
 To appease the thirsty spirit's drought ; 
 That expositions imcompiled. 
 Ilowe'er extravagant and wild, 
 
 p " Two or Ihrpo of llii* PuritiuiK* nvowprl inntrninrnls in a parish 
 pri>i-iitiii|{ jx'titioiu <-ori»liiiitly Htyli-tl, ' Tin- Petition of thi' whole 
 l'ttri»li.' Tlioujfh the iniijor |«rirt of the piiri»h, yen, (I have known 
 )t,; three piirlH of four in ii jmrinh hiive never been iniy Mich petition, 
 hilt diiiclaimed it nmlur their hiindi.." — Walker'* SnfTeringK of thu 
 Clergy, part i. p. *3S.
 
 THE PURITAN. 73 
 
 Were rich with all the spirit's fire, 
 
 And such as might the sod inspire 
 
 With extasy. And he who sips 
 
 The Word of God, through mortal lips, 
 
 More safe than he, content to look 
 
 For God's own Word in God's own Book. 
 
 It was the preacher was adored, 
 
 And not the message of the Lord. 
 
 Seen through .the halo of their lirain '^, 
 
 The surplice bore a Popish stain'. 
 
 H In the account of Napper the Jesuit impostor, in the guise of a 
 Puritan, mentioned in Sir Will. Boswell's letter to Archbishop I.auil, 
 the subjects of the principal attacks meditated against the Church are 
 desciibed to be, the bishops called lords, the service of the Church, 
 the cross in baptism, bowing at the name of Jesus, &c. Parr's Life of 
 Usher, Appendix. See also Clarendon, vol. i. p. 307. 
 
 r One of the proofs of superstition and malignancy received by the 
 ' Committees for removing scandalous ministers,' was officiating and 
 preaching in the hood and surplice. Walker, part i. p. 119 ; part ii. 
 p. im, — For instance one of the charges brought against the Rev. 
 E. Key, Rector of Sotherton in Suffolk, was for preaching in his sur- 
 plice and tippet. Ibid., partii.p. 289.— And one brought against the 
 Rev. Dr. Anthony Short, Rector of Drewsteington, Devonshire, for 
 wearing his doctor-like ornaments at the Communion-table. Walker's 
 Sufferings, part ii. p. 354. — With regard to the crime of keeping holy- 
 days of the Church, &c., we have amongst many examples, that of 
 the Rev. Robert Grimer, of Wicken, in Cambridgeshire, turned out of 
 his parish by the earl of Manchester for observing the orders of the 
 Church, giving notice of saints' days, &c. Walker, part ii. p. 249. 
 — Bowing at the name of the Saviour was a very common offence. 
 One example will suffice of the Rev. John Allinglon, Rector of Ward- 
 ley cum Belton, Rutlandshire, presented, amongst other crimes, for 
 saying, ' that he would be torn in pieces by wild horses before he 
 would give over bowing at naming Jesus.' Ibid., part ii. p- 185. — 
 Amongst the accusations against the following clergymen, sequestered 
 from the livings by the committee, were, — For using the cross in bap- 
 tism, and bowing at the name of Jesus, Rev. NicholasColman, Rector 
 of Preston, St. Mary, Suffolk: — Altar-worship, east-worship, and 
 dopping-worship. Rev. — Ma|)pletoft, Rector of Hard wick. Cambridge- 
 shire:— Affirming holy-days ought to be kept. Rev. John Manby, D.D., 
 Rector of Cottcnham, Cambridgeshire : — Defending the use of the sur- 
 plice. Rev. Thomas Tillot, Rector of Depden, Suffolk. Walker, part 
 ii. pp. 226, 304, 302, 383.
 
 74 THE PURITAN. 
 
 The reverent turning to the east 
 Was a rank following of the Beast. 
 Before the Saviour's name to bow, 
 To sign the Cross on infant's brow, 
 To give a prelate lordly name, 
 From rankest superstition came. 
 And a distinction to provide 
 For humbling fast and holy-tide 
 Nor roused the soul nor edified. 
 Such were the various pleas profest 
 By some, adopted by the rest, 
 To hide the little secret sj)ring, 
 Which many felt, but none dared bring. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 They come, in sullen discontent, 
 
 How few to those who stay" 
 Quiet at home, and rest content 
 
 To listen and to pray. 
 All meek and humble tn oboy 
 
 Such as are given to teach, 
 And all too wise to run astray 
 
 For every prater's speech. 
 But the many arc (|uiet, the turbulent are lo\ul, 
 And the voice of the loudest seems the voice of the crowd 
 Ah the cur-dog, that snaps, but ne'er ventures to bite, 
 Alarms those that know not the animal's spile : 
 
 • or pctilionii prcKiniti'd by |>iiriNliii>ii(>rri ii^riiiiiHt tliuir jiiistDrx, 
 Cliiri'iidoii >m>H tliiit llii'y wi'rc frci|Ui'iitly (^iil u|> hy ii frw of llie 
 rulililc, kikI iiiriiiii'iit of (lit- |>('C)|ilr, iiguiiiMt lliu nuuiio und juilgtnotit 
 of the pariyh, vul. i. pp. 307, 30t^.
 
 THE PURITAN. 75 
 
 Though in safety they pass, and provoke not the ire 
 Of the sturdy old watch-dog who lies by the fire. 
 If the danger were real, who were first in attack ? 
 The watch-dog would spring, and the cur would sneak back. 
 
 X. 
 
 They came — the deputation came, 
 
 With many a solemn phrase, 
 Profaning that most Holy Name, 
 
 Which most they seemed to raise. 
 With many a text of Scripture strung 
 Profusely on the babbling tongue, 
 And epithets, that form at need 
 The lip-professor's parrot creed. 
 
 XI. 
 
 And Napper received them. How kind was his look ! 
 
 How anxiously sad was the sound of his tone ! 
 What sympathy waited on all that they spoke. 
 
 As he made all their thoughts and their interests his own I 
 How sweetly he owned himself fully agreed 
 In all that they urged of the Protestant's creed ! 
 That charter of Freedom ; that gem for whose sake ; 
 Cranmer, Latimer, Ridley, had died at the stake ; 
 That each had a right, both unlearned and wise', 
 To do what it seemed him good in his eyes : 
 
 • ' It was declared between them, there was no better design to 
 confound the Churrh of Kngland than by f retending liberty of con- 
 science.' Account of the ineetiiigof certain disguixed Jesuits, contained 
 in the letter of Bishop Urarahall to Archbishop Usher.
 
 76 
 
 THE PURITAN. 
 
 Uaving smoothly premised, as a point understood, 
 That each was a judge of what seemed him good. 
 
 With this general premise laid down, it was plain, 
 
 If they thought that their pastor at Staunton was wrong, 
 If they thought that the service at Staunton was vain. 
 
 Too cold or too popish, too formal or long : 
 They had only to claim, ahove Morley's control, 
 Their freedom of conscience to banish the whole : 
 It was but a right to no Christian denied, 
 The wisdom to judge, and the pow^r to decide. 
 
 XII.- 
 
 But how should this l)e done ? the rector mused 
 And for a time assisting light refused : 
 Till closely urged, from his reserve he broke, 
 And as with sudden inspiration spoke : 
 
 " My friends ! my dear lost friends ! as he of old 
 
 To Shechem's sons his meaning fable told, 
 
 .So unto you, my friends, my tale I tell, 
 
 >"'o in your cause take up my parable. 
 
 Ill a fair country, in an evil hour, 
 
 A man of IJelial built himself a tower. 
 
 Ho built it broad, he built it very higli, 
 
 He w.illed it round, he fenced it warilv. 
 
 Tlie man of IJclial, woe I am to .say. 
 
 Is the malignant, whom my friends obey. 
 
 'i'hc mighty tower,' in which he does reside, 
 
 Tlie Church that feeds him, and the forms that guide.
 
 THE PUKITAN. 77 
 
 Against this man of Belial, men of fame 
 
 Arrayed for battle to the rescue came. 
 
 Good worthy men they were, esteemed and true : 
 
 God-fearing champions, such, my friends, as you. 
 
 Now, though these men were stout, the man of sin 
 
 Was stoutly guarded, they could not get in. 
 
 For the good tower was so compact and strong, 
 
 Beneath its shelter he defied them long. 
 
 Alas ! my friends, e'en thus is the event 
 
 Of your encounters with this malecontent. 
 
 Foiled in the attacks, ' my worthy friend,' they say, 
 
 ' My worthy friend, we wish the tower away : 
 
 (' My worthy friend,' you mark, in such a name 
 
 The serpent to the dove's assistance came) 
 
 We would not hurt yourself ; nay, do not fear ; 
 
 Give up the tower, and rest in safety here. 
 
 We would not hm-t you, were you in our power ; 
 
 We love your person, but we hate the tower.' 
 
 The man had craft, and with himself advised : 
 
 ' 'Tis very true, my person may be prized. 
 
 Whilst the tower stands, it will be safe, no doubt. 
 
 For those cannot get in, who are without. 
 
 But, if it falls, I may get safe to land. 
 
 Or I may not.' And so he let it stand. 
 
 " Their treaty failing as their strength had failed. 
 They laid a deeper scheme, and so prevailed. 
 (Nor look at fraud as evil ! 'gainst a foe 
 The end exalts and sanctifies the blow.
 
 78 THE PURITAN. 
 
 So beneath Jael's hammer Sisera died, 
 So Ehud phmged the knife in P]glon's side.) 
 Once more with milder looks, but craftier breast, 
 The man of Belial thus his foes addressed. 
 ' Peace be unto you ! from alarm be freed ! 
 We like your tower, we prize it much indeed : 
 Nor would for any thing the tower was gone, 
 Or even altered : but there is a stone, 
 An ugly stone or two towards the base, 
 That looks unsightly, jutting from its place : 
 Let us remove them, and we are content.' 
 The boon appeared so slight (no injury meant) 
 That it was granted, and to work they went ; 
 Removed the stones, and did the work so well, 
 That in the moving the whole fabric fell. 
 
 Need I, dear friends, explain how this applies ? 
 Nay, nay, I need not, surely ye arc wise. 
 You see the loosening of a single stone. 
 Properly managed, has a tower o'erthrown. 
 So too a form, a rite, removed, I say. 
 Will sweep in time the Liturgy away." 
 
 XIV. 
 
 " Rut pcradvcnturc," one of them replies, 
 " E'en as tlie cliildron of this world are wise 
 More wise than simj)le souls that thirst for light. 
 This son of Levi, who denies our right, 
 Thi.s bad Diotrcphes, in every sense. 
 That longeth fur and hath preeminence.
 
 THE PURITAN. 79 
 
 Prating against us with malicious word, 
 This whited sepulchre may chance have heard 
 Your pious fable, and in guarded hour 
 Refuse to stir the stones that prop the tower." 
 
 XV. 
 
 " Then, my dear brother, where the spirit fails. 
 
 The arm of flesh is mighty and prevails : 
 
 And in our parliament's heaven-guided laws 
 
 The Lord is with us, and defends our cause. 
 
 Yea, long ere this, in that benighted place 
 
 Had sequestration done the work of grace. 
 
 But the malignant Staunton barred the way. 
 
 See, how the Spirit sheds the light of day 
 
 Upon the darkest counsels ! In my hand 
 
 Behold his lordship's sanction, nay command, 
 
 On any terms to break the galling chains, 
 
 With which this priest the right of thought restrains ! 
 
 See with what firmness writes the man of wrath 
 
 I'd rather see for ever in my path 
 
 Papist or Puritan or — Christian friends, 
 
 I will not say what name the sentence ends ; 
 
 Heaven works by meanest tools, e'en as the rod 
 
 Of wicked Jehu did the work of God. 
 
 Thus then the man of power will not withstand, 
 
 To give the lambs of God to pious hand. 
 
 His son, who had resisted ; one, they say. 
 
 Of Laud's half papists has been driven away, 
 
 Nor can obstruct the purer light of day."
 
 HO THE PURITAN. 
 
 XVI. 
 
 " Shall it be said," a fiercer zealot spoke, 
 
 " The bands of Israel crouched beneath the yoke 
 
 Of Babylonish bondage, nor dare shake 
 
 Their fetters from them for a Gallio's sake ? 
 
 Spare we the sons of Amalek as he. 
 
 Who spared Agag in his treachery, 
 
 And brought him to the prophet daintily ! 
 
 Is it for these we leave the work undone ? 
 
 For the malignant Stauntons, sire and son ? 
 
 Waiting till one consent, or one remove 
 
 The stone of stumbling from the feet of Love ? 
 
 Hew them in ])ieces, coronet and gown ! 
 
 Down with the worshippers of Baal, down !" 
 
 XVII. 
 
 " Nay, my good brother ; nay, you argue wrong. 
 The sons of Zeruiah are too strong," 
 The Rector whispering spoke. (For ipiick alarm 
 Seized the good man who sought another farm, 
 And thought, ' to hurl his patron from his seat 
 Was not the way to find his hopes complete.' 
 And ditubt disturbed the mind of him, whose qualms 
 Objected to his Church for giving alms, 
 Lest the next text of scripture might unfold 
 To these expounders in their fiery zeal,
 
 THE PURITAN. 81 
 
 Something Egyptian in his chest of gold ; 
 And thus his money-bags be brought to feel 
 An IsraeFs borrowing for religious weal.) 
 " Nay, my good brother ; I beseech you stay ; 
 Your zealous spirit hun'ies you away : 
 These are but babes in faith ; 'tis indiscreet 
 To give to babes the strong man's healthy meat. 
 Your words are true, are just ; but, is it wise 
 To flash at once the light in Midian's eyes 1 
 To sound at once the trumpet of surprise 1 
 First be the foe in slumber overthi'own. 
 Then let the elect of Gideon hui'ry on, 
 Then be the lamps upheld, then be the trumpets blown ! 
 When Solomon was strong, the sword was bared. 
 And the son took the life, the father spared." 
 Aloud the adviser spoke ; " Our friend admits 
 His words more fervent than the case befits : 
 But brethren may forgive the hasty tongue, 
 Where zeal is urgent, and where love is strong.'' 
 
 XVIII.: 
 
 " What course is left us ?" Rose from every side 
 The frequent question. " If I must decide" 
 Napper retiu-ned, " let words of craft be tried. 
 If Morley wavers, if he yields, he's lost. 
 And has himself betrayed the important post. 
 If he is firm, on the next sabbath day, 
 Weak as I am, I will no more delay 
 My aid to free you from this man of sin. 
 I feel, yea, now I feel a voice within,
 
 82 THE PURITAN. 
 
 Bidding me rise, pass to the neighbouring shore, 
 And help ! Tt speaks of an effectual door 
 Open, and ready to admit the word ; 
 And who dares struggle, when that voice is heard ? 
 Yes, yes, I come. But, brethren, now depart, 
 Nor watch the wrestlings of this mortal part ! 
 No eye may witness till the vision's gone, 
 The extatic vision ! I would be alone !" 
 
 XIX. 
 
 He waved his hand to the retiring crew, 
 
 And paused in silence, till the last withdrew : 
 
 A\'ith mien composed then stamped upon the ground, 
 
 " Amos !" the follower answered to the sound. 
 
 " Amos, good brother, bid the courier wait 
 
 With ready chaiger saddled at the gate : 
 
 Or hold ! 'twere fitting I myself should say 
 
 A word of season ere he takes his way. 
 
 Bid him attend my summons on the stair. 
 
 Whilst I my message for his charge prepare." 
 
 lie spoke, and took his tablets from his breast, 
 
 And all his mind to the dispatch addressed. 
 
 'Twas an aJJitiou of some score of lines 
 
 To one already long, with strange designs 
 
 Writ on the margin : who the meaning sought, 
 
 Must read the cyplier which each flourish taught ; 
 
 And .strange that meaning, as its jjiirport fell 
 
 In broken sentence, .scarcely audilile. 
 
 From lips which half unconsciously recite 
 
 In muttered whispers what the fingers write.
 
 THE PURITAN. 83 
 
 XX. 
 
 " The work increasinff — zealous to divide — 
 Staunton provoked — some few dissatisfied — 
 AtterUion given to magnify distrust — 
 Dread of idolatry — suspicions just — 
 Soim sixty villages are ripe for change — 
 Practise on pride, and passion, and revenge, 
 To rail at forms — praise preaching to the skies. 
 This tickles up their preachers' vanities — 
 The liturgy more odious than'' — " the word 
 Of the comparison might not be heard. 
 Suspicion had suggested there a name 
 That lip of Puritan were slow to frame ; 
 And, when he ceased, he made a mark below, 
 That pen of Puritan were loath to shew. 
 
 XXI. 
 
 His task complete, the roll he tightly wound. 
 
 The seals suspended, and the writing bound. 
 
 " Haste for thy life ! speed, speed ! " the cover bore : 
 
 He gave the appointed signal on the floor, 
 
 And the stair groaned beneath the courier's foot, 
 
 Clashed the long spur, and crushed the ponderous boot ; 
 
 " " Sir," said Coramin, " I preached aeainst set forms of prayer, 
 and I called the Enylish Prayer, English Mass ; and have persuaded 
 several to pray epiritaally and exlempure,a.uA this hath so much taken 
 with the people, that the Church of Emj/and is become as odious to 
 that sort of people whom I instructed, us jyiass is to the Church of 
 Englani; and this will be a stumblinp-block to that Church while it is 
 a Church." — Commin's auswer to the Pope. Foxes and Firebrands, 
 pt. ii. p. 28.
 
 84 THE PURITAX. 
 
 The steel-bound corslet rang, the steel-sheathed blade 
 Trailed on the floor, and heavy answer made. 
 Upon his back a horseman's cloak was spread, 
 A high-crowned hat rose gravely from his head, 
 But sable cloak nor steeple hat concealed 
 A hardened soldier practised in the field. 
 
 XXII. 
 
 Brief was their greeting. Napper, when they met. 
 
 Perchance his word in season might forget. 
 
 Amos, who lingered on the stair to hear, 
 
 Found little to repay his anxious ear. 
 
 " This to Sir William ^," was the opening word : 
 
 " This to Lord Essex :"' it was all he Iteanl, 
 
 All that was said. But Amos might not spy 
 
 The expressive glance that shot from Napper's eye ; 
 
 And Amos could not see the answering look 
 
 A\'ith which the courier the despatches took ; 
 
 And Amos, as he turned him to be gone, 
 
 Caught not the cadence of the falling tone, 
 
 AVith which was whispered, " If you're hardly prest, 
 
 Fire keeps a secret safe ! Farewell, you know the rest." 
 
 XXIII. 
 
 One minute more, the closing door 
 
 Hack on its latch re-echoing swings : 
 Another minute, and no more ; 
 
 • Sir William Waller, tliu |>arl!aini'utar>- general in the west.
 
 ' ' THE PURITAN. 
 
 The courier past the threshold o'er, 
 
 And lightly into saddle springs. 
 And sharp through Compton-on-the-moor 
 
 The gaUant charger's gallop rings. 
 He rode away, till closing day 
 
 Had flung the lengthening shadows round ; 
 He rode, till twilight, damp and grey, 
 
 Darkened the air, bedewed the ground. 
 Press on, press on, thou gallant horse. 
 
 The full veins swelling in the limb ! 
 Press on, with undiminished force. 
 Hold, trusty courier, hold thy course. 
 
 Through silent eve and landscape dim ! 
 Thy work is done, thy home is near, 
 
 By yonder belt of forest trees. 
 With whinnying cry and quivering ear 
 
 His welcome shed the charger sees. 
 The rein is drawn : " another steed ! " 
 
 The ready grooms the call obey : 
 Safe in the stall the horse may feed, 
 
 The man is hurrying far away. 
 
 XXIV. 
 
 The moon her crescent face reveals. 
 
 He gallops through the silvery light : 
 The gathering cloud her form conceals. 
 
 He gallops through the shrouded night. 
 Through forests dark, o'er moorland drear, 
 
 Down stony path, on level plain, 
 The courier and his horse appear. 
 
 Like spectral forms of wandering brain. 
 
 85
 
 86 THE PURITAN. 
 
 The hamlet sleeps in still repose, 
 
 Hard through the streets his hoofs rebound 
 By the fresh mead the river flows, 
 
 The bridge returns the hollow sound. 
 He gallops on thro' mantle grey, 
 
 As morning mist about him breaks ; 
 And up the hill, and down the brae. 
 
 His course untired the charger takes. 
 Another shed — " Another steed !" 
 
 Loose on the neck the reins are thrown ; 
 Safe in the stall the horse may feed. 
 
 The man is up and hurrying on. 
 
 XXV. 
 
 The earl of Essex and his powers 
 
 Recruit their strength in London's town ; 
 Brief stay is his in London's towers ; 
 
 He presses on o'er dale and down. 
 Stout Waller with his iron horse ' 
 
 Threatens the King on Lansdown height ; 
 Thither he iKinds no slackening course, 
 
 But southward speeds his furious flight. 
 Till full upon his path apjiear 
 
 Tlic billowy confines of the shore ; 
 Till swells upon bis listening ear 
 
 The broad Atlantic's sullen roar. 
 
 » " Sir Williiim Wuller lind liid'ly rt-coivctl from London n rcgirjuiit 
 of five liuixlrc'it h(»rHi> uiickT tliii coiiiiimiid of Sir Arthur IIiihtli'ri){: 
 wliii')i wcro HO coiiipk'ti'ly iiriiicd, lliiit tlicy were oulli'd liy llio oilier 
 hide llif rf)firni'iit of lohiili'ri-, hi'i'iiiihc of llicir lirijilit iron hticlls, witti 
 which they wtTf covert'd, being perfctl cuirmniurii." — C'lur., vol. ii. 
 |.. 452.
 
 THE PDRITAN. 87 
 
 XXVI. 
 
 The rein is dravra— the horse may feed 
 
 Inactive in his stall once more : 
 Spread the white sail ; the vessel speed ; 
 
 And leave behind the lessening shore. 
 Aha ! we need not draw the rein ; 
 
 Aha ! we need not ply the spur : 
 When the light galley ploughs the main, 
 
 There's no fatigue or toil in her I 
 Faster she flies, and yet more fast, 
 
 As through the heaven the loose scud flits : 
 The white foam dashes o'er the mast, 
 
 More thick than white foam on the bits. 
 High o'er the wave the spin-drifts rise, 
 
 Or glance aloft in flaky spires : 
 " More sail, more sail ! my sea-horse flies, 
 
 My good sea-horse, that never tires." 
 Her course is over — Lo the strand ! 
 
 'Mid sheltering rocks and welcoming spray, 
 The courier springs at once to land : 
 
 Again he mounts and bounds away. 
 
 XXVII. 
 
 And many a day, and many a night. 
 And many a steed his race has sped : 
 
 The moon, that beamed with crescent light 
 Upon his way, is old and dead.
 
 88 THE PURITAX. 
 
 Warm on his cheek the winds of France 
 
 In vain invite with zephyrs bland : 
 In vain would check his wild advance 
 
 The mountain walls of Switzerland. 
 One struggling toil up craggy brow, 
 
 Cold to the sense, drear to the eye ; 
 And bursts in smiling plains below 
 
 The bright expanse of Italy. 
 Ride on, ride on, in distant state 
 
 Towers the Apostle's princely dome : 
 Thy goal is at a palace gate. 
 
 Within the lordliest street of Rome.
 
 PART FIRST. 
 
 ^fje 15attle of SansDoton. 
 
 Commin, presenting his credentials from Lord Staunton to tlie 
 
 leaders of the Royal Army, is rejected at the instance of Sir 
 
 Bevil Granvil and Sir Ralph Hopton, and vows revenge. 
 
 The golden sun rose from the silver wave, 
 And with his beams enamell'd every green. 
 
 When up arose each warriour bold and brave, 
 Glisfring in filed steel and armour sheen. 
 
 With jolly plumes their crests adorn'd they have. 
 And all tofore their chieftain muster'd been. 
 
 Fairfax's Godfrey of Bidloigne, b. i. stanza 35. 
 
 CoziMO. If this man 
 
 Be false, disguised treachery ne'er put on 
 A shape so near to truth. 
 
 Massingee. The great Duke of Florence, Act iv. Sc. 2. 
 
 The silent moon in summer heavens with tranquil beauty 
 beamed, 
 The dew-drops mirrored back her face on hill and grassy 
 meadow ; 
 Clear in the light the guarded height of loyal Marsfield gleamed 
 And sprinkled hedge and copse-row green reposed in leafy 
 shadow.
 
 90 THE BATTLE OF LANSDOWN. 
 
 AVhere far and wide, a mingled mass, the Royal army lay, 
 Fatigued with march and skirmishing thro' all the live-long 
 
 day, 
 And blessed the summer's balmy sky, and blessed the silver 
 
 moon, 
 That shed upon a soldier's couch so sweet a benison. 
 
 II. 
 
 Calm the night, serenely fair : 
 
 Every sound, that on it broke. 
 Borne upon the willing air, 
 
 In a louder echo spoke. 
 Louder on the stillness fell 
 
 Answering " hail " from post and ward : 
 Word of watchful sentinel, 
 
 Challenge of the wakeful guard. 
 Louder from the sullen drum, 
 
 Hourly roll of warning beat ; 
 IjOuJer rose the voices' hum, 
 
 From the outposts' distant scat. 
 Louder pealed the bugle note 
 
 On the air with lengthening sound ; 
 Louder clanged the measured trot. 
 
 Where some leader takes his round. 
 Louder rang the dogs' shrill bay. 
 
 As the glowing moon they chide. 
 And the war-steed's shriller neigh 
 
 Louder througli the night rej)lied. 
 Such the sounds th' encampment knows, 
 
 Mingled sounds that never cease ; 
 IJut tlie soldier finds re])osc. 
 
 And the weary call it peace.
 
 THE BATTLE OF LANSDOWN. 91 
 
 III. 
 
 In a hollow far away 
 
 As a slinger's arm might throw, 
 Groups of troopers resting lay, 
 
 Groups of chargers fed below. 
 Girded in by armed ranks. 
 
 Safely there they rest and feed ; 
 Tethered by the sheltering banks, 
 
 Stabled on the grassy mead. 
 Housings, saddles, loosely spread. 
 
 For their riders' need supplied, 
 Pillow to the weary head. 
 
 Cover to the weary side. 
 There they lay and dreamed, of old, 
 
 'Mid the halls of lordly sires, 
 How they lived in stately hold, 
 
 Towering over wealthy shires. 
 Ere the wrongs of England's King 
 
 Roused the land's indignant shame, 
 And around him rallying 
 
 England's best and noblest came. 
 They in pride of ancient blood. 
 
 They to crouch before the frown 
 Of rebellion's upstart brood. 
 Battening on a ritlod crown ! 
 
 IV. 
 
 England's noblest ! Wouldst thou find 
 Him who held the foremost place.
 
 92 THE BATTLE OF LANSDOWN. 
 
 In nobility of mind, 
 
 In nobility of race ? 
 Seek him in the leader's tent 
 Of the royal armament. 
 
 Dost thou fear to enter there 
 
 Lest thou break the chiefs repose ? 
 Rests the soldier, free from care, 
 On housings rude and saddle bare, 
 
 And no cankering trouble knows, 
 That shall bid his slumbers fly 
 Languid frame and heavy eye. 
 Let the soldier rest who can ! 
 
 But the leader watch must keep, 
 ^^'eary watch, and think and plan 
 
 \\ hilst his meaner comrades sleep. 
 Adding to the toilsome day, 
 What he steals from night away ; 
 Stealing fromthe night, to borrow 
 Hours of labour for the morrow. 
 Such the price, distinction owes 
 For his laurel-vested brows : 
 Such the price, that war awards 
 For his honours and his guards. 
 Such the price, that all nmst .share. 
 Chiefly those, who.se i)uljlic care. 
 Mingling with domestic grief, 
 Bars the wounded heart's relief
 
 THE BATTLE OF LANSDOWN. ^'■i 
 
 VI. 
 
 Noble Hertford^ ! such were thine ! 
 
 Thou the pride of Seymour's line, 
 
 Line that once had lent a gem 
 
 To a bloody diadem. 
 
 Thou ! whom, (could the wrongs of youth 
 
 Warp thee from thy loyal truth,) 
 
 Human frailty had excused, 
 
 Hadst thou to thy King refused 
 
 The high sanctioning that came 
 
 With thine honourable name. 
 
 And revenged upon the son 
 
 Injuries his sire had done. 
 
 Injuries, most deeply felt 
 
 In the thought that they were dealt 
 
 On him through another's heart ; 
 
 Injuries, with painful smart 
 
 Coming back in loneliness. 
 
 With a craving for redress 
 
 From the voice of one long gone, 
 
 Speaking in his breast alone 
 
 Of revenge, that justice brings 
 
 On the tyranny of kings. 
 
 3t The Marqais of Hertford, represented as one so wholly given xi\< 
 to conntry pnrsuits and literature, as to be with difficulty drawn from 
 them, accepted the office of governor to the Prince of Wales, and 
 was afterwards made General in the south. The treatment allnded 
 to was on the matter of his marriage with the Lady Arabella Stuart. 
 Clarendons History, vol. i. p. 663 ; vol. ii. p 297.
 
 94 THE BATTLE OF LAKSDOWN. 
 
 VII. 
 
 If e'er his thoughts such whisperings knew, 
 
 On Seymour's heart in vain they came : 
 True loyalty is ever true, 
 
 In frost and sunshine, praise or blame. 
 Therefore foremost in the strife, 
 
 Yielding to his mind's control, 
 He hath left his peaceful life, 
 
 And the quiet of his soul. 
 He hath left the joys he proved 
 In the volumes which he loved : 
 He hath slighted for the right 
 Kinsman's y love and friend's delight ; 
 And hath mixed himself again 
 In the toils and jars of men, 
 P^vi'iy passion bowing do^vn 
 To his fealty for the crown. 
 
 viir. 
 
 Many at their monarch's feet 
 
 \NeaI til's al)undauce poured ; 
 More in pride of generous heat 
 
 Bared a loyal sword. 
 Hertford for his king has made 
 
 Nol)]er sacrifice : 
 Seymour on the .shrine has laid 
 
 His heart's dearest prize. 
 
 T Lord Hertford wiui married the necond time to iho iiuter of 
 lliu Eurl of £m«os.
 
 THE BATTLE OF LAN3D0WN. 
 
 All he could, he freely gave : 
 
 Blame him not that still 
 Thought refused to be the slave 
 
 With the obedient will. 
 That with England's hosts before him, 
 England's battles hovering o'er him, 
 Seymour's heart is far away 
 From the army and the fray. 
 
 IX. 
 
 Of her' he thought, too near a throne 
 
 To lead a happy life. 
 Of her his early loved, his own. 
 Whose heart was broken to atone 
 For crime, to courtier only known, 
 
 To be the honoured wife, 
 Of one, who lovv-i her well, and atood 
 Equal in all but royal blood. 
 Therefore she perished young, whilst he — 
 Oh ! doubt not of his constancy, 
 If he lived on till life was old 
 Long after she, he loved, was cold, 
 And took another to his breast. 
 And in another's love was blest ! 
 What means such weakness but to prove. 
 That man loves not with woman's love ; 
 
 ^ The Lady Arabella Stuart stood in the same relation to the crown 
 of England with King James the First, each l)eing the great grand- 
 child of Margaret, eldest daughter of Henry the Seventh. King 
 James was descended from her son by her tirst husband, James the 
 Fourth of Scotland, and the Lady Arabella from her daughter by her 
 second husband, Douglas, earl of Angus.
 
 96 THE BATTLE OF LAXSDOWN. 
 
 A love, that forms the vital part 
 The inmost fibre of the heart, 
 Which if we seek to sever, shakes 
 That which it grows on, till it breaks ? 
 
 X. 
 
 Yet think not all the vows he made 
 
 Forgotten, and his love decayed ! 
 
 No ! by the tlioughts, that day and night 
 
 Have clothed his brows with wintry white, 
 
 Long ere the frozen hand of age 
 
 Has left it as its heritage. 
 
 No ! by the life estranged from men, 
 
 That seeks to be alone ; and, when 
 
 Forced back upon the busy scene, 
 
 Passes through all with absent mien 
 
 Of one, who feels himself intrude 
 
 On any thing but solitude. 
 
 No ! l)y the strange mysterious spell 
 
 That bound his spirits, as he smiled 
 Sadly on her he loved well, 
 
 liis own, but not her child, 
 And yet a second Arabela, 
 
 So by affection styled, 
 Which joined to tliat he loved the most 
 The unfading memory of the lost. 
 Think not the old man's heart untrue ; 
 
 No falsehood this, which sits and wakes. 
 Through midnight, labouring to renew, 
 
 Dreams of past love, till morning breaks ; 
 
 • Lrird Hertrord riillrd hiH dniiglilcr by IiIn Hvcuiid wifu, by liis first 
 wifu'ii Diiini-, * Arubullu.'
 
 THE BATTLE OF LANSDOWN. 97 
 
 Then offers to the dawning hour 
 The will to sleep, without the power. 
 
 XT. 
 
 But now on Marsfield's village fane 
 Scarce tinged the sun the glittering vane ; 
 The roofs, unconscious of the ray. 
 Still slept below in somhre gray : 
 When in the Seymour's presence stand 
 The associate leaders of command, 
 With those, whom rank and worth afford 
 Attention at the council board. 
 There first, in right of royal blood, 
 An early soldier Jlaurice stood". 
 Alas ! to arms, his dreadful trade. 
 Too early trained ; and reckless made 
 
 Of softening on a hapless land 
 
 The grasp of war's vindictive hand. 
 
 Thou too, Ralph Hopton*^ ! thou wast there 
 
 The honourable post to share : 
 
 Thou, (ere the tongue of well-earned fame 
 
 Had hailed thee by a higher name,) 
 
 Of title proud, distinct to prove 
 
 Thy portion in thy soldiers' love, 
 
 " Their darling ;" for thy daring high 
 
 With counsel mixed and courtesy. 
 
 Thou "^ too wast there, thy courage bright 
 
 Graced with fresh bays from Stratton's fight, 
 
 b Prince Maurice, nephew of the king. His character is taken from 
 Clarendon, vol. ii. p. 41-1, 503. 
 
 c Sir Ralph Hopton, afterwards Lord Hopton, called the ' soldieri>' 
 darling;' his character taken from Clarendon, vol. ii. p. 721. 
 
 J For the character of this excellent person, see Clarendon, vol. 
 
 n
 
 98 THE BATTLE OF L-\.\SDOWX. 
 
 By noblest deeds of valour done, 
 Thy loyal Cornwall's truest son : 
 Most gentle ! with elastic mind 
 Surmounting ills, to omens blind : 
 Although a shade of sorrow now 
 O'ershadows Bevil Greenvil's brow. 
 Unwonted ; and with prescient gloom 
 Points to the death and to the tomb. 
 Nor must thy name ^, brave earl, be lost. 
 Conspicuous in that honoured host : 
 Who, breaking from thy slothful youth. 
 Didst forward spring in cause of truth, 
 And bear thy changed nature well, 
 Grave, prudent, and inflexible : 
 And earned in life a wreath, to set 
 Around Carnarvun's coronet ; 
 Aud gained in death the prize to die 
 By Falkland's side at Newbury. 
 Such were the loyal, proved and tried, 
 Who stood that day by Hertford's side. 
 
 XII. 
 
 Short speech is theirs : the Commons' powers 
 
 Pour down from Lansdown height. 
 " Haste, whilst tiie advantage ground is ours, 
 
 To join the ready fight. 
 
 li. ]). 426. Tho hnttlc of Striiltnii.in Cornwall, wnK fnnght on 16th of 
 May, 1643, in wliirh the L-iirl of Stiiinf'inl wiib (IffciitiMl hy tlif royul 
 Iroopn. Vol. ii. p. 403. 
 
 ' Tho curl of Ciirimrvon in dcKPriluMl as one in wliorn tliu troiibli>H 
 of thv tiincH proilnri'il a f;riMi( i-lian^c ; having Ijfcn u guy und 
 truvi-llol ni^in in liiii yniitli, hut aftiTwarcU giving hinibclf np wljully 
 to the duticN of u Nojilii-r. Ibid., vol. ii. p. A25.
 
 THE BATTLE OF LASSDOWN. 99 
 
 Ride forth, ride forth ; the foe to scan : 
 
 Peal the alarum drum : 
 Drag the artillerj'' to the van, 
 
 The rebel Roundheads come. 
 Slight grooming now must serve the horse, 
 
 Scant time the rider speed. 
 Mount, mount, and form, ere yet their course 
 
 Has sullied IMarsfield Mead !" 
 The banners flutter in the breeze, 
 
 Combe, would', and sheep-walk ring, 
 With shouts, and martial jubilees. 
 
 And cries of " God and King." 
 The sun, that first looked down that day 
 
 Upon a slumbering vale. 
 Now flashes back the fair aiTay 
 
 Of arms and glancing mail. 
 Red in its light the breast-plates shine, 
 
 The helmets gleam amain. 
 As rank on rank, and line on line, 
 
 They file into the plain. 
 No more a solitary beat, 
 
 A lonely horn's alarms ; 
 The bugles clang, the drums repeat 
 
 The stirring call to arms. 
 
 XIII. 
 
 " Let Staunton's son," Prince .Maurice cried, 
 " ^^'ith Staunton's horse the shock abide 
 Cai-narvon, thou wilt gladly go 
 And rid us of this villain foe. 
 
 f •■ Mountains and liills the English formerly called iroulJs; on whic-li 
 account an ancient glossarj- interprets the Alps of Italy the iruulds of 
 Italy.'" — Camden's Glocestershire.
 
 100 THE BATTLE OF LANSDOW!^. 
 
 Brief struggle this ! stout Waller's sense 
 Will not forego his ground's defence. 
 A troop of horse with smart attack 
 Will drive them to their body back. 
 Call Vere ! at home ? and not returned ?" 
 The prince's cheek with anger burned. 
 " Thus private interests quench the zeal, 
 By all profest for public weal. 
 His sire's commands ? Sirs, he had none : 
 When first he buckled ai'mour on, 
 
 In Charles's cause, Charles was his sire, 
 And claimed obedience ! — Friend what now ?'' 
 He questioned, as in rich attire, 
 "With riding soiled, and dust, and mire, 
 A man rode up the lowly brow, 
 On which the leaders' tents were spread. 
 " Speak, Sir ! what now ?" 
 
 With bended head, 
 " Prince," Commin answered, " I am here. 
 To take the place of traitor Vere, 
 And this commission bear to wield 
 His trooj)ers in the bloody field : 
 Lord Staunton's friend, to act as one 
 Whom he disclaims to be his son." 
 
 XIV. 
 
 "Traitor and Vere ?"' indignant })rokc 
 From llopton's lips, as loiul he spoke 
 " Traitor and Vero ! nor time affords 
 The proof of such ill-omened words
 
 THE BATTLE OF LANSDOWN lUl 
 
 With fitting scrutiny to trace ; 
 Nor, stranger, dare we yield a place 
 Of such high trust to one unknown. 
 This will I say, and this alone : 
 A\'ho gives to Vere a traitor's name, 
 Should be himself most free from blame. 
 Let the next leader take the charge ! 
 We'll list thy story, friend, at large. 
 Stay by our side. Before our sight 
 To Staunton's confidence thy right 
 This day shall prove." 
 
 XV. 
 
 Greenvil broke in': 
 " Nay, my good lord ; it were a sin. 
 If one, who seeks so high a place, 
 Should not be foremost in the race. 
 A leader's eye may see afar. 
 And safe conduct the doubtful war ; 
 But we, amidst the whirling fray, 
 See not, but feel and force oui' way. 
 Friend ! stay by me. If true thy heart, 
 We'll know thee better, ere we part. 
 I love to know my friends from foes. 
 Not by fair words, but honest blows." 
 
 XVI. 
 
 " Thus shalt thou know me," flushed with wrath 
 Commin returned ; but, ere the knight 
 Caught his dark eyes' vindictive light,
 
 102 THE BATTLE OF LAXSDOWX. 
 
 Lo ! in quick gallop up the path 
 
 Reginald Vere appeared in sight. 
 E'en now the trumpet's latest blast 
 
 Sounded from flank to flank ; 
 Now of his gallant troop the last 
 
 Were wheeling into rank. 
 He paused not at their head, hut still 
 Spurred his hot charger up the hill, 
 While the spur-rowells reeked with blood, 
 'Jill pausing, where the generals stood, 
 
 He lighted Hojjton's steed before, 
 And to his hand has sped 
 
 A letter, tightly knotted o'er 
 AVith many a silken thread : 
 
 He marked the seal the cover bore, 
 He cut the folds and read. 
 
 XVII. 
 
 He read, and all his features changed : 
 '• Staunton, or thou, must be deranged,"' 
 
 The blunt commander cried : 
 " A traitor i may Heaven's mercy bring 
 Many such traitoi"s round the king. 
 
 To battle by our side ! 
 What next ? ' One of the iMudian school 
 A x/firr to difcipfi»e and rule ;' 
 Well, : ir ! an<l it" your father sago 
 Turns doctor in his wise old age, 
 Docs he expect that such as I 
 Will these nice points of doctrine try? 
 (Jive him a horse ! his own is sped : 
 
 There, Verc, your troopers ride ;
 
 TIIK BATTl E OF lAXSDOWN. 103 
 
 Ilopton commands you to their head, ; 
 
 With them this skirmish bide. 
 Nay, answer not ! there rides the foe, 
 
 Through them your answer lies : 
 Believe in every well-struck blow 
 
 Some idle slander dies. 
 Hold, let me read ! a moment wait ! 
 Some sense may come, though over-late. 
 How now ? ^hut if it seenwth best 
 
 He should not be at large, 
 Myself will saiiction his arrest ;' — 
 
 Sir traitor, mount and charge ! 
 No words ! but mount ; remember, youth, 
 Hopton is surety for thy truth." 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 Whatever thoughts, (if thoughts are called 
 The unfinished fancies of the brain, 
 Disjointed, indistinct, and vain,) 
 Had filled the breast of Reginald, 
 
 And nerved him for the bitter pain 
 Of yielding, at his sire's command. 
 The leading of his gallant band. 
 And bearing that sad scroll of shame, 
 That stamped dishonour on his name : 
 Whatever thoughts, I say, had been ; — 
 The entrancing hurry of the scene. 
 The busy summoning to war, 
 The foe's defiance from afar, 
 And of his men the inspiring sight 
 Pressing to honourable fight,
 
 '^^ THE BATTLE OF LANSDOWN. 
 
 The scanty time that now forbade 
 Or doubt or answer to be made, 
 And Ilopton's generous confidence, 
 Depriving him of all pretence 
 Of his sire's orders to weigh down 
 The immediate interests of the crown, 
 Forth from his mind its scruples swept. 
 With bound he into saddle leapt : 
 His saddened look and pensive eye 
 Bright with a soldier's extasy, 
 lie bounds, he Hies ; his troopers hear 
 The heavy gallop in the rear. 
 And greet the sound with joyful cheer ; 
 
 He springs unto their head, 
 And with fresh ardour forth they go. 
 Forth like a whirlwind on the foe, 
 And soon the leaders' eyes may know 
 
 How well their trust has sped, 
 liorne l>ackward on the level field. 
 The rebels waver, break, and yield ; 
 And, spurring back with hunied line. 
 The shelter of their troops rejoin. 
 Who form their battle on the edge 
 < »f friendly Lansdown's guarded ridge. 
 
 XIX. 
 
 Sir Bcvil, with exulting eye. 
 Had seen the rebel troopers Hy, 
 Whilst hot on their tuitniltuons course 
 Reginald urged the royal horse.
 
 THE BATTLE OF LANSDOWN. ' 1(>-" 
 
 Unburdening then his generous breast, 
 
 Thus Hertford's lord the chief addressed. 
 
 " Nobly and gallantly, my lord. 
 
 Has Vere approved Ralph Hopton's word. 
 
 The cause of Charles but ill may miss 
 
 So stout a traitor's arm, as this. 
 
 Fie upon him, who stands to hear 
 
 The name of traitor linked with Vere ! 
 
 And deeper shame on him, whose lie 
 
 Or bred or nursed the calumny !" 
 
 Deep scorn his manly form displayed : 
 
 O'er his fringed lip his fingers strayed, 
 
 To Commin turned, and sternly said : 
 
 " Thou, sir, who sought'st this traitor's place, 
 
 Ow'st Staunton's lord this simple gi-ace : 
 
 Confess, that, when that scroll was writ, 
 
 The wine had warped thy patron's wit ; 
 
 Confess, it was the wandering brain 
 
 Devised the imaginary stain 
 
 Of accusation, false and wild, 
 
 Ao;ainst the honour of his child !" 
 
 XX. 
 
 " This as it may," Sir Ralph replied : 
 " My lord, young Vere is much belied. 
 Nor may we, on such vague complaint, 
 An honourable youth attaint, 
 Nor from his post see thus displaced, 
 One by the king's commission graced.
 
 106 THE B VTTLE OF LANSDOWN. 
 
 Given by the Icing, it is but just, 
 The king himself withdraw the trust, 
 If need requires, but not I trow 
 On such light charge as mocks us now. 
 One of Laud's papists ? it were well 
 For the king's cause, it so befell. 
 That of his soldiers somewhat more 
 Fasted and prayed than drank and swore 
 The cause, we hold, had hardly borne 
 So much of men's mistaken scorn." 
 
 XXI. 
 
 " Sir stranger," Hertford said, " you see 
 
 .My comrades in command agree, 
 
 Till proof more sure our judgment guide, 
 
 Not to distrust a soldier tried. 
 
 Nay, spare to offer to our sight 
 
 Your orders ! These are doubtless right 
 
 But Staunton's will bears less of weight, 
 
 Than welfare of the king and state. 
 
 This may I further say, 
 That, if your heart be good and true, 
 111 fair and open contest you 
 
 May loyal faith display. 
 Men's blood is warm : our van must back 
 In haste our cavalry's attack, 
 And Waller leave his heights to meet 
 And shield his party in retreat. 
 Who really loves, needs no command. 
 To stir his heart, or nerve his hand."
 
 THE BATTLE OP LANSDOWIf. ' ]('7 
 
 XXIL 
 
 " Lord marquis," Commin cold replied, 
 " Of your acts' justice to decide 
 Becomes not me. I\Iy lord will say, 
 How far the judgment of this day 
 Contents him. How he likes the slight 
 On his commission, and his right 
 Denied and spurned, to name the head, 
 By which his tenant troops are led. 
 At his request his friend I came. 
 And ill deserved rebuff and shame, 
 From these proud chiefs" — 
 
 XXIII, 
 
 " Lord Staunton's friend !" 
 Greenvil awaited not the end : 
 " His friend ! and see without a word 
 His sou cast out, thyself preferred ! 
 His friend ! and see division break 
 Nature's best ties, and for thy sake ; 
 Ami no attempt, no trial make, 
 To plead forbearance ! No disguise. 
 But straight thou springest on thy prize ; 
 ' The son a traitor, I must lead :' 
 Thou art the father's friend indeed. 
 It will be long before the smart 
 Of such feigned friendship leave the heart."
 
 108 THE BATTLE OF I.ANSDOWX. 
 
 XXIV. 
 
 Lord Hertford spoke. " Stranger, forbear ! 
 And you, Sir Bevil Greenvil, spare 
 Such vain reproach, which ill may speed 
 Our friend's defence in hour of need. 
 Space may be found (this contest fought) 
 For those who live, with nicer thought 
 The merits of the cause to try 
 AVith fair and equal scrutiny. 
 Tiiis day at least, whate'er befalls, 
 
 Reginald Vere retains his post 
 
 Of honour in his sovereign's host, 
 And leads where danger calls. 
 And you, sir, if you love the right, 
 jMay prove your faith in this day's fight. 
 Choose you some chief of noble name, 
 
 And l)ear you gallantly to-day, 
 Time .shall investigate your claim, 
 
 And ample praise your toil repay." 
 
 XXV. 
 
 Commin with gloomy look replied, 
 " Sir Bevil Orcenvil, by thy side 
 I liattle. Thou, who couldst decide 
 Without a proof, may live to .see 
 Good proof of my fidelity." 
 He spoke with emphasis, and look 
 Of sullen meaning. Greenvil took
 
 THE BATTLE OF LANSDOWN. 109 
 
 The words, but not the look or tone : 
 " Then forward, sir ! now ride we on : 
 If I have wronged thee, I confess, 
 That I shall owe thee much redress. 
 If thou art false, good friend, beware ; 
 I hold thee in especial care. 
 Ride on ! ride on ! I hear the sound 
 Of cannon's roar on broken ground : 
 Sir William has his fire begun 
 Upon ovir horse : ride on ! ride on s!" 
 
 e The whole account of the battle of Lansdown is taken from Clar., 
 vol. ii. p. 423 — 426. The first skirmish here described was commenced 
 by a body of horse sent forward by Sir William Waller towards Mars- 
 field, which was soon driven back on the main body, after which the 
 battle commenced.
 
 Canto S f) I r H. 
 
 PART SECOND. 
 
 Z\)t iJattlc of 2.nn5t)oUjn. 
 
 The Battle of Lansdawn is fought and won. Commin execulrs 
 his vengeance and escapes. Reginald Vere is recalled from the 
 army by intelligence from home. 
 
 When now the incensed rebels proudly came 
 Down like a torrent without bank or dam, 
 When undoHervcd sufcess urged on their force 
 That thunder must come down to stop their course, 
 Or Grenvillo'' must step in, then Orcnville stood 
 And with himself opposed and checked the flood. 
 
 JHonutiiiid to Sir Bail (Ireiiv'dk on Lansdotcn. 
 William Cautwuigut, 1613. 
 
 Hide on ! riilc on ! o'or the road afar 
 Arc .spread the signs and the din of war. 
 The banners arc flying, the hngles sound, 
 And siiuadron on 8(|uadron shakes the ground, 
 
 •• The niiine i* hero (fiven, a* in the monumenl, flrimr,ille. Hy 
 CliireiKliiii and olhcrii it i« viirimi>'ly written Uruuvil, Uraiiville, 
 liri'i'nvil ; the liuit in Clurondou'H raodo.
 
 THE BATTLE OF LANSDOWN. Ill 
 
 With their trampling steeds, and their armour's rattle, 
 
 And the pride, and the pomp, and the heauty of battle. 
 
 Now here, now there, o'er the bank's green row 
 
 The plumes of the leaders wave to and fro ; 
 
 And the steel-tipped pikes of the troopers gleam. 
 
 Sweeping along like some silvery stream, 
 
 Now rising high up the steep ascent, 
 
 Now almost lost in the deep descent, 
 
 Wavering, waning, yet gleaming still, 
 
 Down in the valley, and up on the hill ; 
 
 In through the trees with glancing shine. 
 
 Clear on the level with flashing line, 
 
 Wavering, waning, yet gleaming on, 
 
 Far in the distance the bright pikes shone. 
 
 11. 
 
 Hark to the drums, with their lively beat 
 Quickening the tread of the willing feet ! 
 Quicker and quicker the 'larums peal, 
 Quicker and quicker the soldier's heel, 
 Answering the roll with hollow tramp, 
 Smites the road with its measured stamp. 
 Hark ! the bugles take up the note, 
 Cheerily, cheerily, round they float. 
 Hark to the fife, with its thrilling tongue 
 Mingling the martial soimds among ! 
 Quicker, and quicker, what need they more ? 
 IVIusic around them, and honour before. 
 Soon from the maidens of Marsfield are lost 
 Sound of the trumpets and march of the host.
 
 112 THE BATTLE OP LANSDOWN. 
 
 Soon beneath Lansdown's entrenchments on high 
 Fuller and sterner the echoes reply. 
 
 III. 
 
 Halt ! stand we firm ! the cuirassiers, 
 A living fence of levelled spears, 
 
 Spur from the summit down : 
 In plaited panoply of mail, 
 Like some sea-monster's jointed scale, 
 The burghers thunder in the vale. 
 
 Burghers of London town. 
 Downward they rush with ponderous force 
 An iron mass of man and horse : 
 They may not hold their victor course, 
 
 The trooi)cr\s light-anucd band ! 
 O'erburdened by the advancing weight, 
 The royal cavalry elate, 
 
 Shortwhile the shock withstand, 
 Waver, and l)reak — whilst thro' and thro' 
 The burgher troops their way pursue ; 
 
 Then, back impetuous wheeled. 
 Beneath their chargers' clanging tread 
 Tram|iling the dying and the dead, 
 
 Ride down the flying field : 
 Till, rallying to the rescue, Vere 
 With Staunton's horse assailed the rear ; 
 And many a gallant mus(iuetccr 
 
 The shock with Slanning' braved. 
 
 I Sir Nii'holaii Slunnioff, govrriior of PcndonniH castle, ond Colo- 
 ai'l John Truvuuuion, uru cuUud the lift- siiid huuI of the Cominh
 
 THE BATTLE OF LANSDOWN. 113 
 
 Prince Maurice and Carnarvon there 
 Led on their troops with sabres bare ; 
 And, where the fight was thickest, there 
 
 Greenvil, thy banner waved. 
 There Owen, Vaughan, and Sheldon fell J ; 
 There Wardour's lord, bold Arundel ! 
 
 But not in vain they die ; 
 The cliffs of Lansdown tell the tale, 
 How iron heart o'er iron mail 
 May in contested fight prevail ; 
 
 The burghers turn and fly. 
 ^^^lilst, full on their disordered rout, 
 Press in hot chase the troopers stout, 
 Press Cornwall's sons with cheering shout, 
 
 Till, half way up the hill, 
 Protected by the vantage ground. 
 And flanked by Waller's army round, 
 
 The rebel host stood still : 
 Breathless they stood, secure awhile. 
 After long burst of deadly toil. 
 
 IV. 
 
 Secure ! the general's watchful care 
 
 Had finu defences made ; 
 Breast-work and rampart-work were there, 
 
 And bristling palisade. 
 
 regiments; both were afturvrards killed at the siege of Bristol. 
 Clarendon, vol. ii. p. 44". 
 
 j Sir George Vaughan, Lord Arundel of Wardonr, (shot in the 
 (high,) Major Sheldon, Sir John Owen.
 
 114 THE BATTLE OF LANSDOWN. 
 
 Where nature well with craggy brow 
 
 Her fences had begun, 
 The beetling cliff is frowning now 
 
 With many a gaping gun. 
 He, who would climb that summit high 
 In peace's calm tranquillity, 
 
 Must climb with panting breath : 
 He, who with venturous heart would dare 
 To brave those heights in eye of war, 
 
 Must face the jaws of death ; 
 Each venturous step, that struggles higher, 
 Checked by the cannon's belching fire. 
 
 Secure ! on either side a wood 
 
 Shrouded the marksman's ranks : 
 There .sheltered from the foe they stood, 
 And with cool aim in murderous mood 
 
 Swept do\vn the invading ranks. 
 Whilst upward on the level field 
 Beneath the rampart mound concealed. 
 In strong reserve of foot and horse • 
 Waller maintained the rebel force. 
 
 If e'er security might lie 
 
 In steep ascent of mountain high, 
 
 In levelled gun and palisade, 
 
 And marksman's aim from ambuscade, 
 
 The Commons' troops in safety lay 
 
 On Lansdowu's heights that desperate day.
 
 THE BATTLE OK LAJiSDOWN. 115 
 
 .VI. 
 
 No spot, the tales of war can tell, 
 
 By nature fenced or skilful plan, 
 Writes itself inaccessible 
 
 Before a valiant man. 
 "Fall on ! fall on !" Prince jNIaurice cries ; 
 
 " Lead up the mountain's crown. ", 
 We'll storm these vaunting batteries. 
 
 And bring their cannon down"*." 
 
 VII. 
 
 The Prince's voice Sir Bevil heard, 
 Before the troops his war-horse spurred, 
 
 Looked on the mountain brow, 
 Then turned him, and with i-apid glance 
 On Commin cast his look askance : 
 
 " Stranger, what say'st thou now ? 
 Now will we test thy loyal love ; 
 In danger's path thy honour prove. 
 
 Or in thy falsehood pause ! 
 Who fights, where Greenvil's footsteps lead, 
 Up yonder cliflF his path must speed, 
 
 And in the cannon's jaws." 
 Sternly he spoke : with martial pride 
 Round his left hand his pennon tied, 
 
 A pike has armed his right : 
 " God and the King !" the soldier cried. 
 
 And darted up the height. 
 
 k The Cornish foot desired to " fall on," and cried out, " that they 
 might have leave to fetch off those cannon." — Clar., vol. ii. p. 424.
 
 116 THE BATTLE OF LANSDOWN. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 "God and the King !" With ardent look 
 Slanning and Vere the signal took ; 
 His sword in air Trevanuion' shook, 
 
 And ranged each gallant band. 
 " God and the King !" Carnarvon cried : 
 Commin with muttered voice replied, 
 As his pole-axo he sternly eyed, 
 
 " God and mine own right hand !" 
 Thus fiercely on the battle sped 
 Up the steep cliff, where Greenvil led. 
 
 IX. 
 
 Mounting with intrepid speed, 
 
 Whilst above the astounded foes 
 Marked aghast the daring deed, 
 
 Onward, upward, on they rose. 
 In their eyes the pike-heads shine, 
 
 Round their cars the small shot fly ; 
 Steadily they forced their line 
 
 Onward, upward, yet more high. 
 Thrice on their advancing course 
 
 Streamed the cannon's deadly flame : 
 Scattered thrice, with doubled force 
 
 Onward, u])ward, on they came. 
 Twice in torrtnt-likc attack 
 
 Down the London burghers pour : 
 Rallied twice and twice driven l)ack, 
 
 Onward, up, they mount once more. 
 
 I Coluoel John Trovanuioii, (kuo nolo i).
 
 THE BATTLE OF LANSDOWN. I 1' 
 
 Bevil Greenvil, true till death, 
 
 Upward leads the fearful race : 
 Vengeance keeps abreast with faith, 
 
 Conimin mounts with equal pace. 
 Now they gain the embreasted height. 
 
 Where the deadly cannon frown : 
 Smoky vapours hide the light ; 
 
 Heaven have mercy ! Greenvil's down ! 
 Woe betide the rocky steep ! 
 
 Woe betide the faithless steed. 
 Who his footing fails to keep 
 
 In his rider's weightiest need ! 
 Well the felon blow has sped, 
 
 Cold he lies upon the ground. 
 And, behind, the gaping head 
 
 Welters with a ghastly wound. 
 None but Commin now is nigh. 
 
 None to hear his dying groan : 
 Commin paused, and stooping by 
 
 Dropped the axe and hurried on °. 
 Now no time for heart to feel 
 
 Foemen's joy or friends' distress : 
 Round the hill the horsemen wheel, 
 
 Up the hill the footmen press. 
 Cornwall now in fierce career 
 
 Makes her desperate footing good : 
 Charges Slanning, charges Vere, 
 
 Drive the marksmen from the wood. 
 
 n> " Sir Bevil Greenvil himself leading up his pikes in the middle, 
 and in the face of their cannon, and small shot from the hreast-works, 
 gained the brow of the hill, having sufTerud two full charges of the 
 enemy's horse; but in the third charge his horse falli:ig, and giving 
 ground, he received after other wounds, a blow on the head with a 
 pole-axe, with which be fell."— Clar., vol. ii. p. 424,
 
 118 THE BATTLE OF LANSDOWN. 
 
 Now in loose disordered routs 
 
 Waller's broken host retires : 
 Louder peal the loyal shouts, 
 
 Fainter grow the rcliel fires. 
 Onward, up, the work is done : 
 
 High the notes of triumph raise ! 
 Lansdown's battle-field is won, 
 
 To the God of battles praise ! 
 
 X. 
 
 The brittle is ovei", now muster the host ; 
 
 Bear gently the wounded, and bury the slain. 
 Now reckon in blood what the conquest has cost. 
 
 Ere you boast of its glory or count on its gain. 
 Sum up the sad hearts and the desolate tears. 
 
 That the fatherless shed, by your conquest bereft ; 
 And number the hopeless, the wearisome, years 
 
 That the widow must toil for her charge that is left : 
 And number the groans of the wounded ones lying 
 
 Stiff, smarting, and cold on the fight's bloody scene ; 
 And the agonized memories, that rush on the dying, 
 
 Of the life that will be, and the life that has been : 
 To whom, all unweancd from earth's pleasures and sins, 
 Eternity opens, and judgment begins. 
 Then the balance bj struck ! then the heart may decide 
 The loss or the gain of war's misery or pride I 
 
 XI. 
 
 He it yours, mighty chiefs, at who.sc order arrayed. 
 The soldier unshcaths in obedience his sword,
 
 THE BATTLE OF LANSDOWN. 11!) 
 
 To guard that no brand, in your quarrel displayed, 
 
 Without reason be dra\vn, without honour restored ". 
 Be it yours the commission, (oh deem it not vain !) 
 
 The wounded to soothe, and the weary to cheer. 
 And to give, (it is all you can give,) to the slain 
 
 The tears of their comrades to hallow their bier. 
 Oh ! thus may you shew, that your l)osoms can feel 
 
 With those who are suffering : thus only, as far 
 As you may, where you cannot avert, may you heal, 
 
 Some horrors that wait on the glories of war. 
 
 XII. 
 
 Such task was thine, brave Hopton°, now, 
 
 With cheering voice and honest brow, 
 
 The wounded soldier's heart to raise, 
 
 And speak kind words of well-earned praise. 
 
 Such task was thine, when evening fell 
 
 Upon that field contested well, 
 
 To mix as one, who in the fray 
 
 Had fought a comrade's fight, to say 
 
 Kind words of commendation due : 
 
 " My friend ! how calm your aim, how true ! 
 
 11 Taken from the motto upon the Cid's sword, which also is common 
 on Toledo blades. The writer brought one of these from Sierra Leone, 
 ornamented by the Maudingo Africans. It bears upon one side of it 
 the words, 
 
 No me saqnes siu razon ; 
 and on the other, 
 
 No me embaynes sia honor. 
 
 o " Sir Ralph Ilopton ridinj; up and down the field to visit the hurt 
 men, came near to a waggon of ammnaition, which blew up either by 
 treachery or accident." — Clar., vol. ii. p. 42'!.
 
 120 THE BATTLE OF LANSDOWN. 
 
 How gallantly you met that shock ! 
 How well and lightly up the rock 
 You bounded, ere the burghers bore 
 Down on our troops ! a wound before ? 
 'Tis a brave mark of Lansdown's fight ! 
 Behold, my friend, no better plight 
 Befalls your leader : turn and note 
 INIyself disabled >' ! musquet-shot 
 Nor soldier nor his general spares, 
 But each the wounds, as glory, shares." 
 The wounded smile amidst their grief, 
 And in soothed memories find relief. 
 
 XIII. 
 
 So rides he round the scattered plain ; 
 And, where he moves, the look of pain 
 Grows calm, and sorrow's stricken eye 
 Cheers at the voice of symi)athy. 
 Oh who would grudge so slight a toil, 
 A profcrred hand, a friendly smile, 
 A kindly look, a word, a touch, 
 That costs so little, does so much ? 
 
 XIV. 
 
 So rides he round. Kaliih llopton, stay, 
 Approach not thou the hollow way, 
 Where lies in many a laden wain 
 The ammunition's guarded train ! 
 Onward he rides. A figure dark, 
 He might not, sunk iu reverie, mark, 
 
 r Sir Riilpb Iloptna had been Hbot tbrougb the arm with u muii(iDe( 
 in the inorDiug't cngugvmuDt.
 
 THE BATTLE OF LANSDOWN. 121 
 
 That dogged his way : an eye, that cast 
 A look of hatred as he past : 
 A step that followed through the field 
 In distance, until now concealed, 
 Behind yon mound the form retires, 
 And the dark seeds of hidden fires 
 Upon the ground remorseless sows, 
 In winding streaks of treacherous rows ; 
 Then watches from his ambushed stand 
 With lighted match in desperate hand. 
 
 XV. 
 
 He may not mark : his thoughts, I ween, 
 Are wandering o'er the mournful scene, 
 Left by war's ravage ; and the smile, 
 That his poor comrades could beguile 
 Of half their pain, is surface deep. 
 And may not lay his own to sleep, 
 Or his own saddened reveries cheer ! 
 He marks him not ; and yet more near 
 Towards the ambushed foe he draws, 
 And checks his horse with fatal pause ; 
 His guards in watchful duty guide 
 Their chargers to their leader's side. 
 
 XVI. 
 
 Hark ! what means this sudden hiss, 
 Startling all with thrilling sound 1 
 
 What thin curling wreath is this. 
 Running snake-like on the ground ?
 
 122 THE BATTLE OF LANSDOWN. 
 
 One brief glance Ralph Ilopton flings, 
 Plants the spur, and turns the rein. 
 All too late the war-horse springs 
 
 From the already heaving plain ; 
 Bursts the sky with sudden roar, 
 
 Breaks the night with lurid blaze, 
 Burning fragments scurry o'er, 
 Filling all with wild amaze. 
 Fires the sky, and shakes the earth, 
 Smoke and vapour fill the gloom. 
 As at some volcanic birth 
 
 From some mountain's teeming womb. 
 Scattered fire-sparks hiss and die, 
 
 Smouldering in the singed grass ; 
 And the exploded waggons lie 
 
 Heaped in\mdistinguishcd mass. 
 But amidst the lurid gleam, 
 
 And amidst the stifling smoke, 
 II<j11o\v groan and anguished scream 
 
 From the reeking ruins broke. 
 Soldiers, to the rescue leap ! 
 
 Soldier , hear those painful cries ! 
 Underneath that smouMoring heap 
 
 England's pride, your darling, lies ! 
 Quick the sound of trampling hoof 
 
 Nears the spot where Ilopton lay : 
 One dark courser holds aloof 
 One dark rider spurs away. 
 With a look of scowling hate 
 
 Commin turns his glance around ; 
 Then, with full revenge elate. 
 
 Gallops from the cumbered ground.
 
 THE BATTLE OF LANSDOWN. 
 
 XV IT. 
 
 123 
 
 But there vras one, whose angry eye 
 Had marked the exulting traitor fly ; 
 And scarcely had escaped the blow, 
 That laid his noble general low : 
 Whose plunging horse, in startled fear, 
 Refused the darkling wain to near ; 
 And saved by his rebellious strife 
 His youthful rider's limbs or life. 
 
 At first, in horror at the sight, 
 
 The war-steed bounded bolt upright ; 
 
 Then, trembling at the dread report. 
 
 Flung back his heels with neigh, and snoit ; 
 
 Set in the turf his hoofs behind, 
 
 Pointed his ears, and pawed the wind. 
 
 And shuddering stood. Then strove in vain 
 
 To shake aside the guiding rein. 
 
 And hurl his rider on the plain. 
 
 Firm sat the rider. There was need 
 
 For calmest seat on wildest steed : 
 
 Firm sat the rider ; by main force 
 
 Holding at will the maddened horse, 
 
 "Whilst through the momentary blaze 
 
 Reginald fixed astounded gaze. 
 
 What sees th' indignant rider there ? 
 
 By the explosion's 'wildering glare 
 
 Thee, traitor, thee ! He sees thee stand 
 
 Beside thy mine with smoking brand : 
 
 He sees thee with abhorrent eye 
 
 Catch thy stout steed and mount and fly :
 
 124 THE BATTLE OF LANSDOWN. 
 
 He strives to follow ! but thy flight 
 Leads fair across the dazzling light, 
 And the scared war-horse whip nor spur, 
 Nor words nor threats, can move or stir. 
 By turns they soothe ; by turns they urge : 
 AVhen, lo ! from Lansdown's distant verge. 
 The blazing ruins for their guide. 
 Lord H ertford and Prince Maurice ride. 
 His steed the youth dismounts, and pale 
 With shame and horror tells the tale. 
 
 XVIIL 
 
 Ijord Hertford struck his noble breast, 
 
 And hurriedly his grief confessed. 
 
 " Alas ! alas ! for who may bring 
 
 Such doleful tidings to the king, 
 
 And shew where lie on bloody plain 
 
 A Grcenvil aTid a Hopton slain'' ? 
 
 Far better had it been our lot, 
 
 These to have saved and triumphed not !" 
 
 But other danger Maurice shews : 
 
 " If rightly Vcre this traitor knows, 
 
 The same, whom Staunton sent to lead 
 
 His troops this day; there were good need, 
 
 That such a leader find not powers 
 
 To hold in trust Lord Staunton's towers." 
 
 q "Sir Ralph Ilopton had hardly bo much lifo in him," \vril<» 
 Clarendon, " a* not to bo uumborcd with the dead,"
 
 THE BATTLE OF LANSDOWN. 125 
 
 XIX. 
 
 " Such warning with the opening day," 
 Lord Hertford said, " shall posts convey 
 To Staunton Vera, with ample charge 
 To speak of this day's loss at large ; 
 To disabuse Lord Staunton's ear, 
 And warn him of the treachery near j 
 And bid him hold in foe's despite 
 His castle for his monarch's right. 
 We deem thy sire betrayed, misled. 
 Not that his honest faith is dead. 
 Do thou, good youth, with us remain, 
 Lead, as of old, thy father's train. 
 For thy firm truth and honour, Vere, 
 We ask no proof, no trial fear." 
 
 XX. 
 
 " That which my father's will denies," 
 Reginald Vere composed replies, 
 '■ I may not in calm mood assume, 
 But yield obedient to his doom. 
 The morn's excitement now is past, 
 The pulse's cuiTcnt flows less fast ; 
 And that, which neither time nor place 
 Allowed to question, bore a face 
 All too seductive and too fair 
 To be resisted, then and there. 
 But now that thought of clearer brain 
 Hath time to take its part again.
 
 126 THE BATTLE OF LANSDOWN. 
 
 And glory's hues less brightly shine, 
 And duty shews the undazzled line, 
 Obedient to the rugged way 
 She spreads before me, I obey ; 
 Nor dare my father's troop to take, 
 By him forbidden, for his sake. 
 But though in such thy will denied. 
 
 This boon thy grace may yield, 
 In march a station liy thy side ; 
 
 But in the battle-field 
 The foremost post, with pike in hand, 
 Amidst mine own familiar band. 
 As Lyndsay "■ fought, my fate to try, 
 Or, if God will, as Lyndsay die. 
 Not thus at least my father's race 
 Will suffer in his son's disgrace. 
 
 XXI. 
 
 " But, where that father's word and will 
 Pronounces me unfit to fill 
 Post of more honour, although men 
 Speak of harsh measures ; not again 
 E'en at your wish, at your command, 
 Take I that pennon in my hand, 
 Which his decree has wrested thence, 
 (No matter if by false pretence, 
 
 ■ " The I'lirl of I.iriiliay, ri'Hi'iitiii){ llii' r()minis>.i()ii (friiiitfil In Priiico 
 KupiTt, liy wliicli 111- wiiH ii|i|ioiiit<'(l ((('lUTuI «)f (liu liorhi- iiiilrpfiidrutly 
 nf )ii« riiininfirid, iiiid cif (liu iiri'Turein'o fiivvii )>y tbu liiug to lhi> opi- 
 nioHN of )iir< rii-plH'W, lud liin ri>^'iinuiit at Kdgnhill (uu privulc colonel, 
 uDcl tbcrodk'd." — Clur., vol. li, i>. 77.
 
 THE BATTLE OF LANSDOWN. 
 
 Of greater love, or greater worth 
 Persuaded.) I that owe him birth, 
 Owe him obedience, and must shew 
 By mute submission, what I owe. 
 
 " Nor deem me to my sovereign's cause 
 Untrue ! God's comprehensive laws 
 In loyal faith do not comprise 
 Our first, our warmest, social ties : 
 But in those social ties would bind 
 Love to the king and all mankind. 
 Connecting first with filial love 
 An answering promise from above." 
 
 XXII. 
 
 " We will not," said Lord Hertford, " blame 
 
 Thy scruples, Vere, if such the name 
 
 Their piety deserves. Thy king 
 
 Would not accept an ofiering 
 
 On such teiTus tendered, as would break 
 
 Command or promise for his sake. 
 
 Meanwhile, until our posts return. 
 
 As thou hast said, fresh honours earn, 
 
 Here by our side, or, at thy will, 
 
 In thine own troop. Be with us still ! 
 
 Our courier may not long delay. 
 
 He leaves the camp with da^vning day." 
 
 XXIIL 
 
 And the day dawms, and the messenger goes 
 Forth on his destined track :
 
 128 THE BATTLE OF LASSDOWN. 
 
 And one sun set, and another arose, 
 
 But the messenger came not back. 
 And Reginald Vere with Hertford kept, 
 
 And gathered fair renown, 
 When Hastlerig's iron horse were swept 
 
 From the heights of Roundway ^ down. 
 But, when ten days were gone and past, 
 
 A rider came with speed ; 
 To Reginald's side he spurred fast, 
 
 And reeled from his staggering steed. 
 And he gave a letter to his hand. 
 
 And Reginald smote his brow. 
 Then rode to the leaders in command 
 
 And communed brief and low. 
 To the head of his troop then galloped forth, 
 
 And he chose a hundred men. 
 And he took his way to the distant north : 
 
 Ho was their leader then ! 
 
 > " III which liattle Sir William Waller was defeated, and Sir Arthur 
 Hantlerig'ii coiia<>Niert> were completely routed by Sir John Byron, 
 Lord Carnarvon, and Lord Wilmot." — Clar., vol. ii. p. 434.
 
 Canto Jpourtf). 
 
 PART FIRST. 
 
 Lord Staunton, acting under the influence of Nappe r, endeavour.' 
 to terrify Morley in the discharge of his duty, but fails. 
 
 " These things, indeed, re have articulated, 
 Proclaimed at market crosses, read in churches ; 
 To face the garment of rebellion 
 With some fine colour, that may please tlie eye 
 Of fickle changelings, and poor discontents. 
 Which gape, and rub the elbow, at the news 
 Of hurly burly innovation : 
 And never yet did insurrection want 
 Such water colours to impaint his cause ; 
 Nor moody beggars, starving for a time 
 Of peil mell havock and confusion." 
 
 First Pakt op Hen. IV. Act v. Scene 1. 
 
 I. 
 
 Praise to the Lord, who, when He laid 
 
 The world's foundations first, assigned 
 A day of rest for all He made, 
 
 Of thoughtful rest to all mankind ; 
 When, circled by angelic bands, 
 
 All glorious the Creator stood, 
 And blest the work of His own hands. 
 
 And called His whole creation good: 
 
 K
 
 130 THE CHURCH. 
 
 That ]Man might learn from that blest hour, 
 The part prepared for sabbath days 
 
 Was contemplation of God's power, 
 And, nursed by contemplation, praise ! 
 
 11. 
 
 But, when that nobler work of love 
 
 To man another day had given, 
 (By memories hallowed far above 
 
 Creation's ties) to worship Heaven ; 
 When from the cross salvation gleamed 
 
 In mercy on a world below. 
 To whom, unless by Christ redeemed, 
 
 Creation had been endless woe ; 
 In grateful zeal IIis name to bless 
 
 With style of high imaginings. 
 Drawn from the Sun of Righteousness 
 
 Who rose with healing on IIis wings, 
 That day, on which their souls were won. 
 
 From heathen rites God's Church reclaimed, 
 And gave unto a holier Sun, 
 
 Than heathen knew, or heathen named. 
 
 III. 
 
 Sunday comes to Staunton Vere " : 
 And the church-bell swcot and dear, 
 Sweet and clear has filled the air, 
 Calling Christian folk to prayer. 
 
 • 8ce notu A ut Ibn eud of cBDto,
 
 THE CHURCH. 131 
 
 Winding forth they take their Avay 
 Through the cocks of fragrant hay, 
 Through the daisy-spotted plain, 
 Through the meads of golden grain ; 
 Where the azure cockle grows. 
 And the scarlet poppy blows, 
 And with varied hues appear 
 IMingled with the golden ear. 
 
 Winding on by shady bank. 
 Now they pass thi-ough herbage rank, 
 Whei'e the foxglove towering up 
 Drops the dew from crimson cup, 
 Where their tribes of varied mint 
 Spread the beds of lilac tint, 
 And the honeysuckles twine 
 With the fragrant eglantine. 
 
 Winding on their way they take. 
 In amid the copsewood brake. 
 Hazel copsewood lost awhile, 
 Pausing now by rustic stile, 
 Whence the eye in distance sees 
 Church's spire in shadowing trees ; 
 And the watchful ear upon 
 Falls the bell with fuller tone. 
 
 IV. 
 
 Nearer now the pleasant road 
 Verges to the house of God, 
 And in one continued line 
 Many straggling footpaths join ;
 
 132 THE CHURCH. 
 
 Where from friendly groups is heard 
 Kindly question, welcoming word, 
 Such as may a neighbour greet 
 With brief converse as they meet. 
 Nothing there of brow austere 
 And affected tone severe ; 
 Nothing there of tutored eye, 
 Sad with dull hypocrisy. 
 Staidly cheerful, arm-in-arm 
 Walk the seniors of the farm ; 
 Whilst before them, hand-in-hand, 
 Tripping pass the urchin band : 
 Urchin band, that oft beguiles 
 The grave father's face of smiles ; 
 Whilst the grateful mother's look 
 Seems to speak from Holy Book, 
 " We are here, Lord of Heaven, 
 With the children Tiiou hast given !" 
 
 V. 
 
 Now they reach the ivied porch 
 Of the venerable Church, 
 Happy, if the rector's eye 
 Greet them as they pass him by ! 
 Happy, if his accents bland. 
 Or the grasp of frieinliy hand, 
 Seem to mark the rich and poor 
 Equal at the Church's door. 
 Pleasant wiis the kindly greeting 
 Of the Hock and pastor meeting ; 
 Ploasant were the signs that proved 
 AN'hcre they reverenced, there they loved.
 
 THE CHURCH. 133 
 
 VI. 
 
 But Marion, who by Morley's side 
 
 Her constant station bore, 
 And to her widow'd sire supplied 
 The place of one, her childhood's guide, 
 
 Of one, alas ! no more : 
 Whose passing from this busy scene 
 Of human cares and toils had been 
 Recent as her's whom Reginald mourned ; — 
 Marion with gentle smile returned 
 The greeting of each friendly group. 
 The reverence of each urchin troop, 
 The rude obeisance, rude but kind, 
 Given from the heart, of honest hind, 
 Whose rough sincerity implies 
 More than smooth phrase or courtly guise. 
 
 VIT. 
 
 Yet those there were, from whom the maid 
 With shuddering terror shrunk afraid, 
 And, pale in her suppressed alarm, 
 Clung closer to her father's arm. 
 Such groups were they, reserved and proud ; 
 Sour visaged, stern, and heavy browed : 
 Beneath whose shade the gloomy soul 
 Shewed its grim mood with surly scowl. 
 As sullenly on all around 
 Contemptuous the fanatics frowned. 
 Theirs was low growl of muttered cant, 
 And sign and word significant,
 
 THE CHURCH. 
 
 As on the western roof they gazed 
 
 Where reverend hands the cross had raised ; 
 
 Or marked in many a varied dye 
 
 The windows' storied blazonry; 
 
 Or rested on the hallowed line, 
 
 That marked the chancel's sacred shrine. 
 
 Scornful they gazed ; and many a sneer 
 
 Awoke disgust, yet kindled fear, 
 
 Whilst frequent stamp of foot on mould 
 
 Prophetic tale of insult told. 
 
 Theirs was the upturned eye-ball hid 
 
 In straining pressure on the lid ; 
 
 Theirs was the sallow cheek and thin, 
 
 The hollow eye, the haggard chin. 
 
 Theirs the lank form's unV)ending height. 
 
 The lip compressed, in angry spite. 
 
 The low and threatening murmur cast, 
 
 As Morley unsaluted past. 
 
 Following with look of bigot hate 
 
 II is footsteps to the church-yard gate. 
 
 No wonder Marion trembling eyed, 
 
 And closer pressed her father's side. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 But there was one tall figure there, 
 On whom with sad and anxious air 
 
 Ilcr father's eye was fi.\od ; 
 In whose fhishcd forehead, as he came. 
 Revenge and wrath with coward shame 
 
 Id varying lines were mixed.
 
 THE CHURCH. 13-") 
 
 Not his the form and visage stern, 
 The features harsh, the look of scorn 
 
 By zealot sect expressed : 
 Nor his the dress austere and quaint 
 That marked profession of the saint 
 
 When saintship was professed. 
 A man he was with florid face, 
 And burly form devoid of grace, 
 With bloated cheeks puffed out to rise 
 In wrinkles round his small grey eyes. 
 His sandy hair, now bleached with years, 
 Curled closely over neck and ears, 
 The sun-burnt neck, like mountain bull. 
 For length of life too short and full. 
 Rich was his dress with velvet slashed, 
 
 Many its points, and finely laced. 
 And by his side a rapier clashed. 
 
 And cloak of silk his shoulders graced ; 
 And rich his hat with Spanish crown, 
 
 And flaunting gay with many a plume : 
 The steed from which he lighted down 
 
 Was led by many a ready groom. 
 High was the blood and strong the limb 
 
 Of the good charger that him bore, 
 And stately troopers followed him, 
 
 And fair-haired pages went before. 
 For high his rank, his race renowned. 
 
 His acts were " right" and " law" his word, 
 Of all the trembling groups around 
 
 The sole and undisputed lord. 
 Yea, none might e'er dispute his will. 
 
 And none had dared, but one alone,
 
 136 THE CHURCH. 
 
 Who ovmed a higher Master still, 
 
 And might not His great will disown, 
 For human law in captious hour 
 
 Though backed by human rank and power. 
 And therefore spoke his sullen glance, 
 And hot and wrathful countenance, 
 And swaggering gait, and hasty stride, 
 Of will restrained and thwarted pride. 
 
 IX. 
 
 Like urchin in unhappy case, 
 That hideth obstinate his face 
 
 Perversely in the wrong, 
 Or tuneth up rebellious shout, 
 Or, sitting down to sulk and pout, 
 
 Sulketh and pouteth long ; 
 Whom rigid aunt's despotic sway 
 Forbids to have his own dear way ; 
 So looked my lord, and vainly tried 
 To wear a visage dignified, 
 
 A high indignant look. 
 All that those features could express 
 Was cross and moody sulkincss, 
 
 Because he could not brook. 
 Like a spoilt urchin, to be crost, 
 And feel his vast importance lost. 
 
 X. 
 
 And this was one, who spoke of love 
 For Church which had liim reared ;
 
 THE CHURCH. 13^ 
 
 And this was one, who came to prove 
 
 How he that Church revered : 
 Hurling defiance at her sway 
 
 In disappointed whim, 
 Because she bade her sons obey ; 
 Sweeping her reverend rites away, 
 
 That would not cringe to him, 
 But held her holy purpose firm ! 
 Love for the Church ! be the term 
 
 Abandoned, thus fulfilled ! 
 Lord Staunton's Church, Lord Staunton's faith, 
 His path on earth, his hope in death. 
 
 Were — what Lord Staunton willed ! 
 
 XI. 
 
 Such was the man, who fiercely strode 
 Across the pastor's church-ward road ; 
 Abruptly from his silence broke. 
 And thus in moody accents spoke. 
 " Morley, your answer'^ ? Ere the hour 
 For answer has escaped your power. 
 Fixed is my mind, Sir Priest ! I hate 
 All that may change or innovate 
 Upon old customs ; wherefore here. 
 Where I am Lord of Staunton-Vere, 
 Such things come not. In vain you turn 
 Your head aside ; thus have I sworn. 
 If these my terms shall be refused. 
 No more shall patience be abused. 
 
 '' See note B at the end of can to.
 
 138 THE CHURCH. 
 
 Think you, my love for Church and King 
 Shall stand your friend ? No ! if they bring 
 Rome's mummeries on us, (there be those, 
 \\^orthy and true, who well suppose 
 Such aim is theirs,) no longer loath. 
 Thus would I spurn, thus trample both, 
 Morley, be timely warned ! beware. 
 Lest by thy acts thy Church may share 
 Disgust and hate. Such priests, as thou. 
 
 Have brought discredit on her name : 
 In time be warned, and even now 
 
 Retrace thy steps, and spare her blame : 
 Else shall thy office be supplied 
 By one more fit, a purer guide, 
 Who waits my will thy post to take, 
 Or rest quiescent for my sake !" 
 
 XII. 
 
 " Lord Staunton," Morley answered grave, 
 " The reasons, that my letters gave 
 To your strange list of hard demands, 
 
 Were fixed and ])lain. I deem it sin 
 To swerve from what my Church demands. 
 
 E'en your applause to win. 
 Things, which you misname novelties, 
 (Untrue the title as unwise,) 
 Claim my obedience : and her will. 
 Pledged, as her steward, to fulfil. 
 Must I fulfil, or be forsworn."
 
 THE CHURCH. • 139 
 
 XIII. 
 
 Lord Staunton thundered forth in scorn, 
 
 " Sir Priest, 'tis false ! Good men and true, 
 
 Yea holier and more wise than you, 
 
 ^\ith conscience nice, and healthy zeal 
 
 Most ardent for Religion's weal. 
 
 Have waved those Popish rules and bands, 
 
 That fetter thus om- Christian hands. 
 
 Thus Abbot ruled in days gone by, 
 
 True light of England's hierarchy, 
 
 Ei-e the arch-wolf of Lambeth crept 
 
 Into the fold when watch-dogs slept. 
 
 A man like him such bigots want, 
 
 A firm unbending Protestant : 
 
 Not closely scanning things at home c, 
 
 Nor sparing of the lash to Rome. 
 
 He did not keep a rigid eye, 
 
 By oaths and rules men's faith to try, 
 
 Because, or ignorant or loath. 
 
 They took a superstitious oath*. 
 
 He broke not peace he vowed to keep. 
 
 But let remorseless Rubrics sleep. 
 
 And canons pass like nursery rhymes. 
 
 Mere senseless curbs for popish times. 
 
 That tender conscience might have way. 
 
 And, only where it liked, obey." 
 
 c See note C at the end of canto. 
 • See Appendix.
 
 140 THE CHURCH. 
 
 XIV. 
 
 " And Lincoln d too, that holy man, 
 Must he incur your sweeping ban ? 
 I had forgot ! his Grace of York ! 
 He marked your innovating work % 
 And to the simple folk revealed, 
 What machinations were concealed 
 In guise of faith, and raised the cry 
 Which stirred our godly jealousy. 
 For all approach to popery." 
 
 " Pass you your sentence on the rest 
 Of priests, and prelates, wisest, best. 
 In England's Church, who are content 
 To go the way their fathers went. 
 Are they not sworn 1 are they not tied 
 By solemn oaths to Church their guide ? 
 And are they faithless, that they teach, 
 Alike by practice and by speech. 
 How short their oaths and pledges reach, 
 Judged by the plain and decent measure 
 Of custom's laws and people's pleasure ? 
 Talk not of oaths to me : such men 
 Have broken all, and would again, 
 Rather than Christian folk displease ! 
 Heaven grant our Chuixh such men as these, 
 Rather than roUen-hcartcd lords 
 \\'ho — but enough ! observe my words : 
 
 '1 c Hei" uoteH D E lit ihi! end ofriiiito.
 
 THE CHURCH, 141 
 
 Say, must thy conscience be professed 
 Thus purer, holier, than the rest ] 
 Or wUt thou, in thy post of peace, 
 Permit these jealous doubts to cease ?" — 
 
 XV. 
 
 Peace, holy peace ! alas for shame 
 That such rude lips profane thy name ! 
 Who call it peace, when rabble sway 
 Of lawless faction wins the day ; 
 Who call it peace, when evils rest 
 And canker in the human breast ; 
 Who call it peace, when heart and eye 
 In apathetic slumber lie ; 
 Who call it peace, a Church to bless, 
 When all is cold, dull heartlessness ! 
 
 Oppose the Faction's frantic din, 
 
 Arouse the smner from his sin. 
 
 Upon the listless dreamer break, 
 
 " Wake thou that sleepest, wake, wake !" 
 
 Or on the Church reviving shower 
 
 The energy, the life, the power, 
 
 The spirit-bearing gift that warms. 
 
 And bid her lift her glorious arms. 
 
 By fast and feast her watchword raise, 
 
 And do her work as in old days 
 
 Of youthful strength, and move to fight 
 
 In all her panoply of light ;
 
 142 THE CHURCH. 
 
 " Let us alone," the slumbercrs cry, 
 
 " The Prince of peace from heaven most high 
 
 Came to send peace — " 
 
 " Was this His word ? 
 Fot peace, thou sluggard, but the sword." 
 
 XVI. 
 
 Such thoughts through Morley's bosom went, 
 As that rude shaft I>ord Staunton sent. 
 Yet not the less the charge he mourned, 
 And his pale cheek a moment burned. 
 Then calmly thus the Priest replied : 
 " Of such men's actions to decide, 
 Becomes me not — the pledge they took 
 Before God's sight on holy book. 
 Binds them alone ; and it is just 
 Themselves determine, if such trust, 
 Solemnly laid, be light and vain. 
 That whim may loose, or whim retain. 
 By their own Master be they tried, 
 By IIiM condemned or justified ! 
 But for myself, nor act nor sign 
 Of other men may alter mine. 
 The law of conscience on my soul 
 Their deeds nor weaken, nor control. 
 Nor may I break the Church's laws, 
 For man's dislike, or man's applause."
 
 THE CHURCH. 1^3 
 
 XVII. 
 
 " Then be the consequence, I say, 
 
 On your own head !" Lord Staunton cried, 
 And furiously he turned away : 
 
 " This morn your conscience shall be tried, 
 Our patience may not last for aye." 
 " Nay, good my Lord, Lord Staunton, stay," 
 
 Said Morley, pressing to his side ; 
 " Approach not thus this holy fane : 
 Pause ere thou venturest to prophane, 
 In God's own presence, God's own shrine, 
 By impious thought and mad design ! 
 If in God's temple nought impure. 
 
 Unholy, might approach the gate, 
 
 Set off" for God and consecrate, 
 
 Say, shall His jealousy endiu-e 
 One who unholy purpose brings 
 In presence of the King of kings ? 
 Throw off thy passions' baneful load, 
 Nor thus pollute the House of God !" 
 " Off ! set me free ! no more I hear," 
 
 Burst from Lord Staunton's panting breath 
 " Go, speak of awe to those who fear ; 
 
 I fear not, I, the hour of death. 
 I hear no more." 
 
 With furious pace 
 
 He neared the Church's door the while ; 
 And, how unfit for holy place ! 
 For words of prayer and thoughts of grace ! 
 
 Strode up the hallowed pile.
 
 144 THE CHURCH. 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 Him follow all with hasty feet ; 
 And oaken settle, carved seat, 
 Fill as they pass ; nor yet the day 
 When golden ring and garments gay f 
 Might keep the viler vest away ; 
 Nor wealthy sinner in his pride 
 Spurn the poor brother from his side. 
 Such feelings were ; yet those who felt 
 
 Hid the dark spot their heart within ; 
 The Church, in which they equal knelt, 
 
 Sanctioned, nor aided in, the sin. 
 
 XIX. 
 
 Ilim followed all, and diifcrent air 
 
 And diifcrent hearts and moods were there. 
 
 Exulting at revenge in view, 
 
 Irreverent came the zealot crew : 
 
 Careless of all, but to fulfil, 
 
 As best they might, Lord Staunton's will, 
 
 The grooms and meaner herd attend, 
 
 Indifferent to the acts or end : 
 
 Whilst grieved and pained, nor free from dread, 
 
 With solemn pace the Churchmen trccad ; 
 
 And, i)rovidcnt in danger's day, 
 
 More humbly kneel, more humbly pray. ; 
 
 ' 8t. Jamev ii. 2, 3.
 
 THE CHTJRCH. 145 
 
 Of those, who with Lord Staunton came, 
 (A hireling tribe of vulgar name,) 
 Were none who might his will oppose ; 
 Content to take as friends or foes, 
 The objects of his hate or love ; 
 With neither will nor care to move 
 But as he led : nor prompt to stay. 
 Nor press his sacrilegious way : 
 Nonentities, who swelled a crowd, 
 And made the voice of tumult loud. 
 Mere striplings these, for civil rage 
 Had culled the ranks of middle age ; 
 And beardless lips and tresses hoar 
 The part of vigorous manhood bore. 
 And therefore in Lord Staunton's train 
 The beardless lips their post maintain ; 
 And therefore, Staunton's hall to guard. 
 The grey haired men kept faithful ward. 
 
 XX. 
 
 Yes ! old men watched in Staunton's hall 
 
 From warden grey to seneschall, 
 
 In long hereditary place, 
 
 The tried retainers of the race. 
 
 Old men, who treasured up the tone 
 Of other days and years long gone, 
 And cherished scenes and visions fled, 
 As legends of the sainted dead. 
 Old men, whose memories ne'er forgot 
 How pealed the joyous culverin shot,
 
 146 THE CHURCH. 
 
 To welcome in the natal hour, 
 Which gave an heir to Staunton's tower. 
 Old men, who flushed with faded cheek 
 As of their darling's youth they speak : 
 How each had borne, and each might share 
 Praise for the skill of Staunton's heir ; 
 How this had taught his youth to ride ; 
 That led his greyhounds by his side ; 
 This (prouder memory) near him trod 
 When first he sought the house of God, 
 And bore behind the sacred page. 
 Free to light youth, and thoughtful age. 
 Yes ! dear to them was Reginald's name, 
 And all he did was good and wise 
 In those his simple followers' eyes : 
 And thus it was from sense of shame 
 Controlled, that Staunton, ere he came 
 To ruin all that Reginald loved. 
 The aged from the scene removed. 
 
 XXI. 
 
 Perchiincc, had Nappcr's godly plan 
 Followed the course his zeal began, 
 By slow degrees the ancient race, 
 Outweedc<l from their trusted place. 
 Had given the followers of his will 
 Full scope their mission to fulfil, 
 And the fierce lord had left behind 
 Creatures more suited to his mind.
 
 THE CHURCH. 147 
 
 But time was not : and hate desired 
 
 No meaner tools the work to speed, 
 Whilst Staunton's lord, by passion fired, 
 Pursued the path theii- wish decreed. 
 Yes ! crafty Rome ! yes ! sour dissent ! 
 When rage and cunning may not shock 
 The Church's everlasting Rock, 
 Behold your mightiest instrument, 
 Her children's ignorance to school. 
 And make their jealousy your tool. 
 Then raise without your emjity din, 
 Whilst surer engines work within !
 
 NOTES TO CANTO lY. PART I. 
 
 Note A, p. 130. 
 
 It may be as ■well to remark in this place, that although the name 
 of Staunton was entirely imaginary, and assnmed rather for the sake 
 of euphony than any thing else, it is a curious coincidence that a 
 somewhat similar history to that which follows is connected with 
 Staunton in Shropshire as recorded in Walker's Sufferings of the 
 Clergy, part ii. p. 323. The name of the Vicar of Staunton was 
 Thomas Orpe, and in the description of his treatment by the Puritans, 
 we find that on one occasion a party of them came upon a Lord's day 
 to church, thinking to find him at church in the morning service, (for 
 the purpose of taking him by violence to the gaol.) At another time 
 Colonel Clivewho lived in the parish of Hordnet, took upon himself 
 the patronage of the chapel in which Mr. Orpe was oiliciating, dis- 
 placed Mr. Orpe, and substituted one ' Peartree' in his place, who 
 was at that time a gifted and celebrated preacher among the brethren. 
 Whilst at Staunton he was complained of by some of the parish, in- 
 stigated by one Rowland Kent, as not being a soul-saving minister, 
 nor belonging to the election of grace. 
 
 Note B, p. 137. 
 
 The circumstances of Lord Staunton's remonstrance and subse- 
 quent c( nduct, resemble the proceedings of Cromwell in the cathedral 
 of Ely, as related by Walker in his Sufferings of the Clergy, part ii. 
 p. 23. " Cromwell wrote a letter to William Hitch, Clergy Vicars' 
 Place, requiring him to forbear altogether the choir service, so unedi- 
 fyiiig and offensive," togelher with other directions for his conduct in 
 the cathedriil. Notwithstanding which letter, Mr. Hitch continued to 
 odlciate as before. I'pon whii-li Cromwell came into the church with 
 u party of Moldiers during divine service, and with his rat)l)Ie passed 
 towards the communion-table, and on Mr. Hitch's proceeding with the 
 iorvice, drew his sword, bade Mr. Hitch "leave his fooling and come 
 down,'' and so drove out the whole congregation.
 
 NOTES. 149 
 
 Note C, p. 139. 
 
 " Abbot considered the Christian religion no otherwise, than as 
 it abhorred and reviled popery, and valued those men most who did 
 that most furiously. For the strict observation of the discipline of the 
 Church, or the conformity to the Articles and Canons established, he 
 made little enquiry, and took less care." — Clarendon, vol. i. p. 138. 
 
 Note D, p. 140. 
 
 " Williams, bishop of Lincoln. He used all the wit and all the 
 malice he could, to awaten the people to a jealousy of these agitations 
 and innovations in the exercise of religion : not without insinuations 
 that it aimed at greater alterations for which he knew the people would 
 quickly find a name." — Clar., vol. i. p. 150. Of the word intiovatioH 
 as used by Williams, Clarendon says " it was an unlucky word, and 
 cozened very many honest men into apprehensions very prejudicial to 
 the King and the Church." 
 
 Note E, p. 140. 
 
 " Practising innovations was one of the common charges made by 
 the Puritans against the clergy of the Church. Amongst the charges 
 brought against Archbishop Laud for innovations, were ' bowing to- 
 wards the altar, bowing at the name of Jesus, enjoining people to do 
 reverence at their entrance into Church, reading the second service at 
 the communion-table, standing up at the Gloria Patri, and introducing 
 the use of copes and Church music.'" — Neal's History of the Puritans, 
 vol. iii. p. 209.
 
 (iTanto Jpourtfj. 
 
 PART SECOND. 
 
 L,ord Staunton and Napper overturn the Church's order at 
 Staunton- Fere. Lord Staunton sets forth for his castle. Pre- 
 parations for the defence of the castle of Staunton. 
 
 " May no such storm 
 Fall on our times where Ruin roust rcfonn." 
 
 SiK JoHK Denham. Cooper's Hill. 
 
 King Henry : — He dies and makes no sign. O God forgive him ! 
 
 If'aricick: — So bad a death argues a monstrous life. 
 King Henry : — Forbear to judge, for we are sinners all. 
 
 Close up his eyes, and draw the curtains close ; 
 And lot us all to meditation. 
 
 Second part of Kisu Hbnbt VI. Act iii. Scene 3. 
 
 I. 
 
 Peace, oh, peace ! the warning bell 
 Speaks no more in music round ; 
 
 Poace, oh, peace ! the organ's swell 
 Fills the pause with solemn sound.
 
 THE CHURCH. ITjI 
 
 Peace, oh, peace ! for sweeter note, 
 
 Holier echo, fills the air ; 
 Sounds of exultation float, 
 
 Mingling with the sounds of prayer. 
 Theme becoming angel's pen, 
 
 Purest power to mortals given, 
 Language between God and men, 
 
 Language between earth and heaven ; 
 Till the time shall come at last, 
 
 When those sounds shall join in one ; 
 Supplication shall be past, 
 
 Adoration left alone : 
 Hope in glad possession lost, 
 
 Future lost in endless days, 
 And through all the angelic host 
 
 Swell the unmingled hymn of praise. 
 
 II. 
 
 Rise the humble tones of prayer : 
 With a cold abstracted air, 
 Though the eye of God is o'er him, 
 Staunton bows no knee before Him. 
 Rise the glad thanksgivings high : 
 With a wild and wandering eye, 
 Though the eye of God surveys him, 
 Staunton lifts no voice to praise Him. 
 Now the holy Book is read : 
 Staunton with averted head, 
 Though the words of God are near him, 
 Has no ear, no heart, to hear Him.
 
 152 THE CHURCH. 
 
 Every word and every sound 
 Whispering speaks of holy ground : 
 Staunton's heart is but a hell, 
 ■\\^here rebellious passions dwell. 
 
 III. 
 
 But the words of prayer are o'er, 
 Holy lessons sound no more, 
 Solemn hymn and psabn ascending. 
 With the full-toned organ blending. 
 Now the pastor turns his feet 
 To instruction's loftier seat, 
 Whilst before the people's sight 
 Wave his robes of reverend white. 
 
 IV. 
 
 Then broke the spell: then Staunton sprang 
 
 Forth from the kneeling thiong : 
 Then savagely his accents rang 
 
 The raftcr'd roof along. 
 Then on God's miuister he laid * 
 
 Ilis sacrilegious bauds ; 
 \Vith warning gesture undismayed, 
 
 Erect the pastor stands. 
 Calmly and solemuly ho spoke : 
 
 '■ Lord Staunton, oh I beware, 
 Nor in IIis servant IIiM provoke 
 
 Whose ministry i bear." 
 
 ■> Hce uotu A at Iho end of cuutu.
 
 THE CHURCH, 153 
 
 " Peace, dotard, peace !" the peer replied, 
 
 With look of sullen gloom : 
 '• We choose our O'wn salvation's guide. 
 
 We scorn thy threatened doom ; 
 No longer shall our faith be tied 
 
 To surpliced priests of Rome. 
 
 Away, fond girl !" more wild his eyes, 
 
 His brow more flushed appears ; 
 " No season this for woman's cries, 
 
 No scene for woman's tears." 
 He spoke, as Marion trembling came, 
 
 Fearless of wrath or harm, 
 And jDartner of his scathe or shame 
 
 Clung to her father's arm. 
 " Away ! thou tempt'st destruction's edge," 
 
 For stUl with solemn word 
 Morley would stay the sacrilege. 
 
 And make his answer heard. 
 " Rector no more, thou hast been weighed, 
 
 And, wanting, hast been cast : 
 And to more worthy hands conveyed. 
 
 Thy ministry hath past. 
 Ho ! bear them both to Staunton hall ; 
 
 Give Gilbert Norris charge 
 To hold them there in decent thrall. 
 
 Nor suffer them at large, 
 Our further sentence to abide. 
 
 In loathsome bonds to lie, 
 Within the foul hulk's '' stifling side. 
 Or sweltering in plantations <= wide 
 
 Beneath a sultry sky. 
 
 b c See notes B C at the eud of canto.
 
 154 THE CHURCH. 
 
 Forth from the Church the menial crew 
 The pastor and his daughter drew, 
 
 The word fulfilled as given : 
 Though ]\Iorley still reluctant strove 
 His lips in silent prayer to move, 
 
 And raise his hands to heaven. 
 " And oh !" he cried, " for Christ's dear love 
 Beware, Lord Staunton ! Oh repent, 
 Nor brave God's righteous punishment ; 
 Such as avenged in elder time 
 Uzzah's contempt, Uzziah's crime. 
 What though no fire avenge the cause ; 
 Or quaking earth with gaping jaws 
 In yawning gulf alive suck in 
 The desperate sinner and his sin ; 
 Not the less certain is the doom 
 Of retril)ution yet to come : 
 Nor less shall fall th' avenging arm 
 On those who do God's prophets harm. 
 
 VI. 
 
 Then gently he his flock addressed : 
 
 " My friends, farewell ! be calm, be still, 
 And Icjivo the issue to IIis will. 
 
 Who Rccth and ordainctli best." 
 
 Lord Staunton's clamour drowned the rest. 
 
 " Knaves, do I speak to dearcned ears ?
 
 THE CHURCH. 155 
 
 Is all obedience lost in fears 
 For a priest's threats ? awhile at least 
 Think we no more of threat and priest ! 
 Loiterers, away ! Behold, our friend, 
 
 Our true adviser, Napper comes ! 
 He to our flock shall counsel lend 
 
 To cleanse our long polluted homes. 
 Welcome, good man, to Staunton- Vere ! 
 
 Welcome, the lecturer's chair is thine 
 No ravenous wolf shall shelter here, 
 
 To thee do we our souls consign ; 
 As the committee d hath decreed, 
 Thine be it now our faith to lead." 
 
 VII. 
 
 The zealot band, who saw and heard 
 With stern delight that dreadful scene, 
 
 Now joyfully took up the word, 
 And with exulting voice and mien. 
 Yea," shouted all with joyful cry, 
 
 " Good man, come forth and testify." 
 
 (c 
 
 VIII. 
 
 Then Morley's flock with wonder saw, 
 With silent wonder mixed with awe, 
 
 The Church throughout 
 
 A stranger rout 
 Towards the chancel draw. 
 
 d See note D at the end of canto.
 
 156 TUE CHURCH. 
 
 Some few there were, whom rage and spite 
 Long time had leagued against the right. 
 But whence were they, the gloomy throng, 
 That made the voice of discord strong 1 
 Little they knew, what subtle game 
 
 The tender-conscicnced played 
 To execute their darling aim. 
 And carry through their deeds of shame : 
 
 And how their craft conveyed 
 From distant shires a well-trained brood 
 To overwhelm the wise and good. 
 And awe the nation with the cries 
 Of God-fearing majorities ; 
 Till the scared flock with pallid face, 
 Indignant at theii' shi-ine's disgrace, 
 Fled from the desecrated place. 
 
 IX. 
 
 Now Napper from the transept broke : 
 The >)road folds of his sable cloak, 
 Ilis gaunt tall figure wrapt around. 
 Swept solemnly along the grovmd ; 
 And well he took devotion's guise 
 With clasped hands and upturned eyes ; 
 And head, that oscillated slow 
 In dismal fervour to and fro. 
 But easy Napper's task to-day : 
 
 The hand of violence had been raised, 
 And schism's sparks, that smouldering lay, 
 
 Broke forth to light, and fiercely blazed.
 
 THE CHURCH. 157 
 
 As easy task, as boy's, whose glee 
 
 Hath turned some loosened dam aside, 
 And let the imprisoned waters free, 
 
 To riot o'er the meadows wide. 
 As easy task, as when a rock, 
 Unseated by the tempest's shock. 
 
 Hangs o'er some craggy crown. 
 To heave the trembler from its place 
 Procumbent, to the mountain's base 
 
 Precipitately do-\vn. 
 No need for nice turned sentence there, 
 Or hesitating smile to wear : 
 
 At once he passes on, 
 Stalks to the lecturer's vacant chair, 
 
 And speaks with thimdering tone. 
 
 X. 
 
 " Oh ! curse ye Meroz ^ in her pride ! 
 Curse ye her people !" Napper cried, 
 " Because they came not to the aid 
 Of Israel's Lord. Because they made 
 Not common cause with him to stand. 
 Against the mighty of the land. 
 A curse be on them from on high, 
 Curse ye her people mightily ! 
 So perish all, who will not come 
 Against the indulgent friends of Eome ! 
 Rise, and be doing ; gird the sword, 
 Cast out the opponents of the word ! 
 
 <; See note E at the end of cauto.
 
 158 THE CHURCH. 
 
 XI. 
 
 " Well have ye done : and well your choice" 
 
 (So swelled the fierce blasphemer's voice) 
 
 " Hath from your presence cast away 
 
 Barabbas in the judgment day 
 
 To choose the Lord '. This Morley's heart 
 
 Was learned in that unholy art 
 
 Of Simon's followers, who aspire 
 
 To buy the gift of God for hire. 
 
 A Churchman this ! Yea, such we find 
 
 In Israel's Chiirch, who loved to bind 
 
 With yokes men's shoulders, which of yore 
 
 Nor they nor their forefathers bore. 
 
 Is it not said the letter killeth, 
 
 The spirit giveth life '( 
 Yea, thus the holy volume willeth 
 
 To mark our days of strife. 
 The letter killeth : rubrics kill : 
 The spirit saves ! man's self-taught will ! 
 Ours is the Church, whose walls we know 
 Nor storm nor time shall overthrow. 
 What shall we say, when Israel flies 
 As hind before her enemies, 
 But that some Achan dares to bring 
 W'ithiu the camj) the accursed thing ? 
 Wlio is on my side ? who ? with rod 
 Of cords to clcan.se the house of God ?" 
 
 ' Sec note F lit tlic end of ciiuto.
 
 THE CHURCH. I59 
 
 XII. 
 
 Lord Staunton heard, and scarce believed 
 The sounds, his ■wondering ears received ; 
 So widely now did tapper's tone 
 O'erleap the bounds of days long gone. 
 But now committed to his creed 
 By his own fearful act and deed. 
 From whence was no retreating, shame 
 Which with the recollection came ; 
 And hate for all that Morley taught. 
 His mind to acquiescence brought : 
 At once from Church's faith he fell. 
 And faction gained — an infidel. 
 
 XIII. 
 
 " Proceed, good man !" he rising said, 
 
 " Proceed in this good work, nor spare 
 Aught that may waken pious dread. 
 
 Or savoui-eth of Italian air. 
 Proceed, as prompts your zealous fire, 
 Nor marvel if myself retire : 
 My wounds in this ungrateful cause 
 Have worn my frame. A fitting pause 
 Of needful rest shall soon once more 
 Our presence to your side restore. 
 Do your work boldly !" 
 
 At the word 
 He strode from out the Church,
 
 160 THE CHURCH. 
 
 \\'here ready for his angry lord 
 
 Awaited at the porch 
 His pawing horse. He mounts the steed, 
 He spurs with all his might : 
 
 And scarce his grooms at utmost speed 
 May keep their lord in sight : 
 So furious to the hall he sped, 
 With reeling brain and aching head. 
 
 The author of the mischief gone. 
 The work of sacrilege went on. 
 
 XIV. 
 
 Nay, rash blasphemer ! spare, oh spare, 
 
 That sculptured font with emblems rare ? ! 
 
 Dash not so rudely to the earth 
 
 The fountain of thy Christian birth ! 
 
 Defile not thou the holy place, 
 
 The well-spring of the Sjjirit's grace ! 
 
 \\'ith(lraw thy foot from yonder board. 
 
 With decent order spread ! 
 Oh, spare the table of the Lord, 
 Where the sjonbolic wine is poTircd 
 
 Where broke the hallowed bread ! 
 Tear not that figured screen away ! 
 \\ hat thougb in Kngland's darkened day 
 
 To use unholy lent, 
 Clcan.scd from its faults and purified, 
 To reverend purpo.scs applied, 
 
 It stands most innocent ! 
 
 t Sue iiulo 6 at the cud or raiito.
 
 THE CHURCH. 161 
 
 To God's own worship consecrate, 
 That chancel's arches rise : 
 
 Beware in sacrilegious hate 
 Lest thou that name despise, 
 
 To whom its service hath been given, 
 
 Lest thou profane the Lord of heaven ! 
 
 XV. 
 
 Nay, trample not beneath thy feet >» 
 
 That book of holy prayer ! 
 Say that thou diiferest : is it meet, 
 
 The words its pages bear, 
 The epithets of God most high, 
 
 Be on the pavement trod 1 
 In thine unthinking blasphemy 
 
 Thou spiirn'st the name of God ! 
 Nay trail not thus with gestures lewd 
 
 That garb of holy white ', 
 No subject this for scoiEngs rude. 
 
 With which, in Israel's sight, 
 God's priests were taught in solemn guise 
 To offer daily sacrifice. 
 No subject this for scornful tongue — 
 In snowy white, the ransomed throng 
 
 Of saints, nor they alone. 
 But golden crowned, a white-robed band. 
 The four and twenty elders stand 
 
 Before the eternal tlu'onc. 
 
 '■ ' See notes H I at the eud of canto. 
 V.
 
 ]fi2 THE CHURCH. 
 
 XVI. 
 
 Ill vain ! in vain ! Religion pleads 
 
 The holy place, the holy use, 
 When evil men for evil deeds 
 
 Have let the floods of riot loose. 
 Devotion's sounds arise no more : 
 
 And oh, Avhat sounds must now be heard ? 
 The trampling foot on chancel floor. 
 
 Insulting jest, and impious word ; 
 Frequent the spoilers pass and pass 
 
 Still scattering ruin where they tread '', 
 And crashing rail and shattered glass 
 
 Through the polluted nave is spread. 
 Flagon and cup and sacred plate 
 
 Become some ruflian spoiler's prize : 
 The linen alb, so pure of late, 
 
 Now rent and soiled and trampled lies : 
 And tattered leaves of holy book, 
 
 Unseemly strew the scats about ; 
 E'en furious White had grieved to look ' 
 
 On such a scene of godless rout. 
 Nay, not so fierce the Danish horde 
 
 Uj)on the Christian temples came, 
 And wasted all with heathen sword, 
 
 And gave the hallowed roofs to flame. 
 Nay, not so fierce with bigot rage 
 
 Erin ! thy papists pouro<l their wrath f" 
 On all tlio Church's heritage, 
 
 And swept before their ruthless path 
 
 ' I 9fo riolcH K I. lit till' I'lid of riiuto. 
 '" Uaring the Uvbellidii iti 1641. — Si-i- Tcmplo'H Irinh RchclHon.
 
 THE CHUBCH. 163 
 
 All that was reverend and divine 
 From altar sacked and plundered shrine. 
 Heathen nor papist's rage might vie 
 With their infuriate blasphemy, 
 Whose lips made claim, all sects above, 
 To Christian purity and love. 
 
 XVII. 
 
 But where was he whose vengeful sin 
 
 First let that devastation in '? 
 
 The work proceeds. And Napper stands, 
 
 And lU'ges on zeal's furious bands ; 
 
 And all, he seems to do or say. 
 
 Points to fresh crimes and leads the way. 
 
 The work proceeds : but where is he, 
 
 Who first broke down his Church's rule 
 And set the imprisoned passions free, 
 
 Victim of pride, and tapper's tool ? 
 Where is the lord of Staunton ? — Gone ! 
 Gone to the Almighty's judgment throne. 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 The old men looked from Staunton's wall, 
 
 O'er meadow and o'er jjlain. 
 O'er hill and valley's rise and fall. 
 
 Through all the wide domain. 
 The road which to the castle back 
 
 Threaded the elm-tree rows, 
 Like to a serpent's sinuous track.
 
 164 TUi: CHURCH. 
 
 Now left, now right, now lost to sight, 
 Now creeping up some distant height, 
 
 Wound 'mid the ancient boughs. 
 And far beyond the hamlet lay 
 
 In bowering foliage hid : 
 And rose above, the Church-spire grey 
 
 Like tapering pyramid. 
 
 XIX. 
 
 The old men looked from Staunton's tower, 
 
 The sheltering woods among. 
 And seemed the length of passing hour 
 
 Like summer's daylight long. 
 And their limbs trembled as they went 
 
 From tuiTct unto fort, 
 From guard-room unto battlement. 
 
 From barbican to court : 
 And with long gaze their straining eyes 
 
 Some uutold care bespeak ; 
 And shade of strong anxieties 
 
 Is cast upon their cheek. 
 For well they knew no holy sway, 
 
 No thoTight of praise or jirayer, 
 Had bid their angry lunl that day 
 
 To Staunton's Church repair.
 
 THE CHURCH, 165 
 
 XX. 
 
 The old men looked forth again ; 
 
 They looked down the road : 
 And now unto their anxious ken, 
 The approaching signs of coming men 
 
 Amidst the branches shewed. 
 Two captive forms were borne along 
 
 Amongst a menial train, 
 And, oh ! there has been grievous wrong 
 
 Done in that holy fane. 
 See that old man's disordered dress 
 
 Is torn by ruffian hands ! 
 And see^how in her loveliness, 
 And trembling at her sire's distress 
 With flowing and dishevelled tress, 
 
 That maid beside him stands ! 
 The old men at the castle gate 
 
 The prisoner pair received. 
 And much their pastor's rueful fate, 
 
 Their lord's despite they grieved. 
 The seneschall the mandate took, 
 
 That Staunton's troopers bore, 
 Then sighed and with a heavy look 
 
 Turned to the walls once more. 
 
 XXI. 
 
 The old men from the watch-tower seat 
 Looked o'er the chase again.
 
 166 THE CHURCH. 
 
 And hark ! a charger's trampling feet 
 
 Clattered along the plain. 
 Borne in full gallop up the road, 
 
 Then- furious lord appeared, 
 The smoking flanks his rowels goad. 
 
 And now the towers he neared. 
 Flushed, crimson-flushed, was seen his brow, 
 
 His eye-lialls fiercely glare : 
 His broken plume waved to and fro. 
 His hat hung loose, and from below 
 
 Streamed forth his hoary hair. 
 Quick from the walls the porters hied. 
 
 They feared his angry frown ; 
 They flung the castle's portals wide, 
 The courser starts : he springs aside ; 
 
 He flounders ; — he is down — 
 Down at the threshold, — man and horse ", 
 Borne forward I)y their desperate force, 
 Resistless and beyond control. 
 Over and over struggling roll, 
 Over and over ! all is sjied ! 
 Tiio cliarger rolls upon the dead ; 
 The castle's lord ! that name forbear ! 
 No lord of earthly towers is there, 
 A bleeding bruised mass of clay, 
 \N'as all that uu the threshold lay. 
 
 XXII. 
 
 In vain, good man ! his hand you press, 
 In vain with trembling earnestness 
 
 n See iioto M ut Iho pud or ratito.
 
 THli CHURCH. 167 
 
 Strive to obtain from passing breath 
 A pledge of late returning faith ; 
 And point to realms of hope above, 
 Held forth in Christ's redeeming love ! 
 In vain you pour the suppliant prayer ! 
 Where is Lord Staunton's spirit 1 where ? 
 Of late, in high rebellious pride, 
 He could thy ministry deride : 
 Again thou offerest to his ear 
 Thy ministry : he may not hear ! 
 Rector and lord have met at last, 
 Where pride is nought, and trial past ! 
 
 XXIII. 
 
 But Morley looked upon the dead, 
 And to the thronging cu'cle said : 
 " ' Judge not ! ' our ^Master hath declared, 
 ' And thou in judgment shalt be spared,' 
 So let it be ! your questions cease, 
 And bear him to his grave in peace. 
 You, Gilbert Norris ! time is brief. 
 And dangers near give hasty grief : 
 The living now demands our zeal. 
 Old man, 'twere idle to conceal, 
 That which thou hast already guessed. 
 How ill for good men's interest 
 This morn hath sped ! the hamlet lost 
 Will leave this hall's important post 
 More open to the rebel host : 
 Thy purpose I may scarcely ask."
 
 168 THE CHURCH. 
 
 XXIV. 
 
 The ancient follower replied, 
 
 And dasliel -.i hasty tear aside," 
 " Nay, reverend sir, my further task 
 Runs with my will : and his I know," 
 (His accent faltered, as more low 
 He murmured) " his, who far away 
 Will deepest rue this fatal day. 
 Fixed is my purpose to maintain 
 Our post, whilst life and strength remain : 
 To man the guns, and guard the wall 
 As true and loyal seneschall. 
 Few as we seem, our post is strong, 
 And may the roundheads baffle long. 
 Till our young lord our peril learn. 
 And timely to our aid return. 
 Meanwhile no babbling tongue shall spread 
 The tidings of Lord Staunlon dead ; 
 More safely shall we rest in hold. 
 If such strange history sleep untold. 
 For you, sir, prisoner now no more. 
 
 Here in our walls securely stay, 
 Lest your too brief confinement o'er 
 
 Our change of purposes betray, 
 For small the safety now that lies 
 In ])ricst of God's once honoured guise ; 
 And speedy doom the laws aflbrd, 
 Confinement, exile, or the sword. 
 Your children ?" —
 
 THE CHUUCe. 169 
 
 XXV. 
 
 " Have been timely sent 
 Before this fatal tempest burst 
 To lead a life of banishment 
 
 With one who had their mother nursed, 
 And now in homely care repays 
 Support allowed for failing days. 
 This gentle gu-l alone, my cares 
 Of erst, and now my refuge shares, 
 If such your youthful master's will. 
 Yet, would I not, that heavier ill 
 Lit, from our presence, on these towers." 
 
 XXVI. 
 
 " Enough, good sir ! the choice be ours ! 
 For me I deem, whilst God's own hand 
 Is stretched in vengeance o'er the land. 
 That shelter to His servants given 
 Will scarce provoke the wrath of Heaven. 
 Man's wrath we fear not ! for a space 
 (The evening wears) I crave your grace. 
 Ho ! Bernard Gresley ! mount your steed. 
 To young Lord Staunton's quarters spced,"- 
 (Calmly he strove his speech to frame 
 But his voice quavered at the name) — 
 " And shew our purpose and our need. 
 Bid Hugh the bailiff make report ; 
 Drive in the cattle to the court ;
 
 170 THK CUUKCIi. 
 
 Secure the sally-port below ; 
 The chains before the portal throw ; 
 The drawbridge up, portcullis down, 
 And point the basilisk " on the town !" 
 
 u A species of cauuoa or ordnance then iii use.
 
 NOTES TO CANTO IV. PART II. 
 
 Note A, p. 152. 
 
 The seizure of Morley in the pulpit is in accordance with the his- 
 tory of the time. Walker, in his Sufferings of the Clergy, has men- 
 tioued the names of nearly fifty clergymen in different parts of the 
 kingdom, who were exposed to a similar outrage during divine ser- 
 vice. Some dragged out of their pulpits, some shot at in them, some 
 interrupted, and some threatened if they proceeded. 
 
 Note B, p. 153. 
 
 Walker speaks of the mode of confining the sequestered clergy in 
 ships with well-merited severity, " as an invention peculiar to the saga- 
 cious wickedness and cruelty of the times." — Dr. Bruno Ryves, the 
 author of Mercurins Rusticus, writes thus : — " They were put under 
 hatches, where the decks were so low that they could not stand up- 
 right, and yet were denied stools to sit on, or so much as a bundle 
 of straw to lie upon." Dr. Peter Barwick writes : — " Hos euimomnes 
 cum multis aliis Theologis gravissimis sub navigii tabulatis in Fluvio 
 Thamesi captives detinebant; squalore, fame, et vigiliis propemodum 
 enectos." Amongst the distinguished sufferers were Dr. Martin, Master 
 of Queen's ; Dr. Beal, Master of St. John's ; Dr. Sterne, Master of Jesus 
 Coll. ; and the archdeacons of Exeter, of Barum or Barnstaple, and of 
 Essex. — Walker, part i. p. 58. 
 
 Note C, p. 153. 
 •> Mention is made by Walker of the intention of parliament to 
 send the sequestered clergy to Algiers, there to be sold for slaves to 
 the Turks. A similar intention is mentioned by Dr. Peter Barwick. 
 Mr. Dugdale relates that a man named Rigby not only exposed 
 them to sale, but found purchasers. Layfield, archdeacon of 
 Essex, was threatened to be sold a slave to the Algerines or some of 
 our own plantations. Rev. Robert Rowden, rector of Notgrove, when 
 turned out of his living by Desborough, was threatened by him to be 
 sent to Jamaica. — Walker, part i. p. 58, and part ii. pp. 49, 343. 
 
 Note D, p. 155. 
 In proof that committees, aiming at great purity in thoir 
 appointments, were liable to he deceived, I refer to Archbishop 
 Tennison's statement of the character of a man called Gubbard, ap- 
 pointed by the committee at Norwich, to succeed his father in his
 
 1 72 NOTES. 
 
 living of Moundesly, from whence he had been expelled for his loyalty 
 to King Charles. Gubbard in a few years began to preach purgatory, 
 and other Romish points, so that he had to be dismissed, and vanished 
 away. See the dedication of A True Account ofa Conference held abont 
 Religion between A. Poultou the Jesuit, and Tho. Tennison, D.D.,as 
 quoted in the notes of a sermon by Rev. John Clarke Crosthwaite, 
 M.A. In addition to the example already quoted of a Jesuit hav- 
 ing been put into Moundesly in Norfolk by the Committee for re- 
 moving Scandalous Ministers, Walker mentions similar instances as 
 having occurred in " Stoke-Fleming, Devonshire ; Okeharapton, De- 
 vonshire; Yarlington, Somersetshire; liuckland, and Filleigh, De- 
 vonshire."— Walker, part ii. pp. 380, 340, 28, 207, 392. 
 
 Dr. Zachary Grey, in a note to the 500th line of canto 1. part iii. of 
 Hudibras, obser»'es, " There was too ranch truth for this observation, 
 for there were several Jesuits and popish priests got into livings in 
 those times." — See Bishop Kennet's Register and Chronicle, pp. 232, 
 781. 
 
 Note E, p. 157. 
 
 "The Rev. Mr. Blakcstan, rector of Northallerton, Yorkshire, was 
 interrupted in the middle of the lessons by one who produced an in- 
 strument by which he claimed the living, who, having tlrst turned 
 Mr. B. out of tho desk got up himself into the pulpit, and made a 
 very long prayer and a longer sermon." 
 
 "Tho Rev. Christ. Reynolds, vicar of LlandiifTc, Ohunorganshire, 
 having been dragged out of church during the celebration of the holy 
 Communion, a weaver, protending to inspiration, mounted the pulpit 
 and preached three hours together, running down the decent ceremo- 
 nies of the Church," <tc. 
 
 " C)ii the sequestration of Dr. Michaelson, rector of Chelmsford in 
 16.13, one Mark Motle was thrust into the living, who for a long time 
 after declaimed from the pulpit on that common thesis of the times, 
 'Curse ye Meroz.' " — Walker, Suflerings of Clergy, part ii. pp. 212, 
 350, 308. 
 
 .NoTK r, \<. 15S. 
 
 Tho inrnmonM fanatic, Hugh I'utcrs, was in the habit of using 
 thin kiniile in hia nermons.
 
 NOTES. 173 
 
 Note G, p. 160. 
 
 " The font of Bedwas, in Landaffe, was turned into a trough for 
 watering horses and cattle in, after that Reese John David the seques- 
 trator had endeavoured in vain with his men to break it in pieces." 
 
 " The man who succeeded to the Rev. James Forbest, at Bovey 
 Tracy, Devonshire, did all he could to destroy the font there, and left 
 it half sawn in pieces with his own hand." — Walker, part ii. pp. 37, 
 241. 
 
 NoteH, p. 161. 
 
 " At Fetcham in Surrey, the troopers trod the Common Prayer- 
 book in the dirt before the rector's face, and so also at Chelmsford, in 
 Esses, where it was brutally treated. In Kyrston Deverel, Wiltshire, 
 or in a neighbouring parish, the Common Prayer-book was torn to 
 pieces; so also at Knowstone, Devonshire, at Boothby Paynell, Lin- 
 colnshire, and at Halstead, Essex, according to Neal." — Walker, part 
 ii. pp. 6, 307, 188, 193, 104. 
 
 Note I, p. 161. 
 
 " The surplice was the object of general insult. Dr. Ed ward 
 Layfield, archdeacon of Esses, was set upon horse-back with his sur- 
 plice on, and his Common Prayer-book tied round his neck. So also 
 the Rev. Richard Long, vicar of Chewton Mendip, Somersetshire. 
 At Bedharaptou, Southampton, and Fetcham, Surrey, the troopers put 
 on the surplice themselves in ridicule and insult." — Walker, part ii. 
 pp. 48, 298, 1 85, 6. William Dowsing, the parliamentary visitor, records 
 at Elmset the rending apieces there of the hood and surplice. — Dow- 
 siug's Journal, p. 27, as published by J. W. Parker, West Strand, 
 1844. 
 
 Note K, p. 162. 
 
 " The complaint of the Rev. Dr. Featley, rector of Lambeth, sets 
 forth that the rabble understanding that he was very exact in ob- 
 serving the Rubrics and Canons, came into his church, profaned it 
 with their beastly actions, burnt the rails, pulled down the font, brake 
 the window," &c. &c. — Walker, part ii. p. 169.
 
 174 MOTES. 
 
 Note L, p. 162. 
 
 "Mr. John White, member for Southwark, called 'the Ccnturist' 
 from a scaudalons and calumnious production published by him in 
 1643, by the name of ' The first century of Scandalous Malignant Priests 
 made and admitted into Benefices by the Prelates, <te. &c.' Mr. White 
 was, for his well-known disaffection to the Church, put into the chair 
 of the grand committee for Ucligion, as likewise into those both of 
 its sub-committees of ' Scandalous Ministers,' and of another sub- 
 division for ' Plundered Ministers.' Mr. Whitlock himself confesses 
 that he was ' somewhat severe' at these committees." — Walker's Suf- 
 ferings of the Clergy, part i. p. 47. 
 
 Note M, p. 166. 
 
 " One of the most forward of the persecutors of the Rev. Christopher 
 Baitson, rector of Chulmley, Devonshire, was killed by a fall from his 
 horse." — Walker, part ii. p. 192.
 
 ©anto j^iitt. 
 
 PART FIRST. 
 
 tZTJbe ©astlf. 
 
 Faithful Nappcr, now Rector of Staunton Fere, has an unsatis- 
 factory interview with Commin in Morley's house. Commin by 
 powerful arguments secures the co-operation of Nappcr ; who on 
 his comrade's departure, discloses something more of his mind and 
 purposes. 
 
 Do you not see these pamphlets, libels, rhymes, 
 These strange confused tumults of the mind, 
 Are gi'own to be the sickness of these times, 
 The great disease inflicted on mankind ? 
 
 Samuel Daniel, Mtisophilm. 
 
 1 1 were, quod he, to thee no gret honottr, 
 For to be false, ne for to be traytor 
 To me, that am thy cosin and thy brother, 
 Ysworne full depe, and eche of us to other, 
 That never — for to dien in the peine — 
 Till that the deth departen shal us tweine, 
 Nether of us in love to hindi-e other, 
 Ne in non other cas, my leve brother 
 But that thou shuldest trewely forther me 
 In every cas, as I shuld forther thee ; 
 This was thin oth, and miii also certain. 
 
 Chaucer, Tlie Knight's Tale. 
 
 What is home ? It comes to the wanderer's dreams 
 With the murmuring ripple of running streams, 
 And tall trees shadowing the rustic porch, 
 And ivied screen on the time-worn Church,
 
 176 THE CASTLE. 
 
 That looketh like warder sheathed iu mail 
 
 Down the smiling fields of the summer vale ; 
 
 And the streams, and the trees, and the old Church come 
 
 To the wanderer's dreams : but they are not home ! 
 
 What is home 1 In the thoughts of awakening spring, 
 
 When the green buds burst, and the glad birds sing. 
 
 And the garden breatheth its honied scents, 
 
 And puts forth its sweetest blandishments, 
 
 And each flower looks up with clear bright eye 
 
 Into the face of the glowing sky, 
 
 And the buds and the birds and the bright flowers come 
 
 To the wanderer's dreams : but they are not home I 
 
 For thei'e lackcth the music of merry tongues, 
 That rang through the garden like faery songs ; 
 And there lacketh the patter of happy feet, 
 That filled the haunts of each loved retreat ; 
 And there lackcth the glitter of laughing eyes, 
 And the joy of the young heart's g;iieties, 
 That gave to the scene its living soul. 
 The inward spirit that named the whole. 
 
 Remove that charm, and in vain you come 
 PVom distant regions to seek for home ; 
 'J'liough it bcareth the old familiar name. 
 And its scenes of beauty remain the same 
 With those of the well-rcmemliered spot 
 That memory cherished, that place is not 
 VVliat our fancy shmlowcfl in years gone l)y. 
 When we spoke of the home of our infancy !
 
 THE CASTLE. 
 
 177 
 
 11. 
 
 Such is the change in lapse of years, 
 That over every home appears ; 
 And it is well the heart should know. 
 That all such pleasures come and go ; 
 Lest clothing any human tie 
 With thoughts of immortality, 
 We give to earthly things a love, 
 That the soul owes to realms above ! 
 
 Yes there is pain, in thoughts like thes ^ 
 
 Of change awaiting every home, 
 As in the gloom the heart foresees 
 
 Or ere the blasts of winter come ; 
 Yet not so keenly these are felt. 
 As those rude shocks more harshly dealt. 
 When hand of wrath, revenge, or crime, 
 Anticipates the work of time. 
 
 III. 
 
 O'er jMorley's home ten days have past, 
 Since Morley trod its threshold last : 
 And ^lorley now had scarcely known 
 The haunts that once he called his own, 
 
 N
 
 178 THE CASTLE. 
 
 So much the hands of ruffian rage 
 
 Had marred that peaceful parsonage. 
 
 The wicket, from its hinges torn, 
 
 Gave the approach a look forlorn ; 
 
 Where branches from the trees were strewed 
 
 In cumbrous ruin o'er the road : 
 
 With heavy foot-prints gaped the sod, 
 
 Where'er the spoiler's band had trod ; 
 
 And trampled was the wild-briar fence ; 
 
 And hand of wanton violence 
 
 Had rent the creepers from their hold 
 
 By window sill and lattice old ; 
 
 And filled the flowers' dismantled bed 
 
 With bruised stem and withered head ; 
 
 And given the laurel plots to flame. 
 
 Spoiling and wasting where they came. 
 
 IV. 
 
 Heaped on the lawn, half black with fire, 
 (The choicest shrubs supplied the pyre,) 
 Lay richest stores of earliest age, 
 The Christian fathers good and sage, 
 Too good, too faithful, and too wise, 
 To suit that time's wild uovcltics. 
 Flung by their side, and half consumed, 
 By ignorance and malice doomed 
 To sad oblivion, that might sliame 
 A r.otli or Vandal's ru<lcr name, 
 I^y precious works of loftiest taste ; 
 Paintings by art and genius graced.
 
 THE CA«T(.E. ! 79 
 
 Whose crime in those dark days had been 
 That they portrayed the closing scene 
 Which wrought salvation ; and combined 
 With the best feelings of the mind, 
 Where Love and Faith bear equal part, 
 The triumphs of successful art. 
 
 Nor were the living creatures spared, 
 Whilst senseless things the ruin shared. 
 Routed from out their airv rooms, 
 Strewing the grass with bloody plumes, 
 The inmates of the rookery lie, 
 Or round their haunts tumultuous fly 
 Indignant, and in hoarse despair 
 With angry mournings fill the air. 
 Tossed on the lawn, where once it grazed, 
 By Marion petted, fed, and praised, 
 Lay Marion's lamb, not slain for food, 
 But in mere wanton lust of blood 
 Struck down, and in the pleasant spot 
 Of all its gambolings left to rot. 
 And sadder sight it was to view, 
 Where to his master's interest true 
 Stretched out before the battered door. 
 
 Where long he held the foes at bay, 
 Now stiffened in a pool of gore, 
 
 The brave old watch-dog mangled lay !
 
 180 THE CASTLE. 
 
 VI. 
 
 Such was the outrage of an hour 
 Unliridled of fanatic power ! 
 Such were the marks, that folly, blind 
 With party madness, left behind ; 
 And, if one pleasurable thought 
 
 Amidst that ruin came, 
 'Twas the stern lesson justice taught 
 
 In retribution's name, 
 That he, who loosed the spoiler's rage. 
 
 Should in his triumph come 
 Unto no peaceful parsonage, 
 
 No unpolluted home : 
 But on a ruined threshold floor, 
 
 A homestead waste and drear, 
 The priest of Com])ton-on-the-moor 
 
 Should rule in Staunton Vcrc ! 
 
 VII. 
 
 The priest ? Forbear the opprobrious word ! 
 That name had faithful Na]>pcr heard, 
 lie had such stylo abjured with scorn, 
 That superstition's sons had borne. 
 To him all words, all names l)OComc 
 Dishonoured by the abuse of Home. 
 No priest, l»y prelate false preferred, 
 But a pure preacher of the Word !
 
 THE CARTT.E. 181 
 
 VIII. 
 
 E'en now behold his warning pen, 
 Opening the eyes of vulgar men, 
 With many a pamphlet wakes the storm 
 Of revolution and reform ■>■ I 
 There boldly brands some dangerous blot, 
 The unwise reformers had forgot ; 
 Here points out error, there denies ; 
 Here novel sense of words supplies, 
 Altering, perverting, and explaining 
 The scanty holy truths remaining ; 
 Till simple folks can scarcely find 
 Their father's faith, their Church's miud. 
 Could Faithful Napper be supposed 
 To be to Church's faith opposed, 
 A surer way he had not found 
 To lay her bulwarks on the ground ; 
 To make her weak in every eye 
 By breach of holiest unity, 
 By sowing seeds of fears unjust 
 Dislike, dissension, and distrust. 
 
 IX. 
 
 It might not be ! that pious man, 
 Howe'er defective in his plan, 
 In end was surely pure, and erred, 
 If erring aught by act or word, 
 
 a See note A at the end of canto.
 
 182 THE CASTLK. 
 
 More from the head's deceitful part, 
 
 Than failing of an honest heart. 
 
 Kot his the writings, wild and strong, 
 
 That swept the enthusiast age along : 
 
 With titles of peculiar school. 
 
 Too blasphemous for ridicule ! 
 
 ' The Tears of Zion's soiled face,' 
 
 ' The Milk of Love for Babes of Grace,' 
 
 ' Tophet for King and Prelates hot,' 
 
 And * poisonous Herbs in Israel's pot.' 
 
 No ! Napper only wrote to prove 
 
 In bland mild phrase a Chui-chman's love 
 
 And, if his zealous pen denied 
 
 'I'he grace to sacraments allied. 
 
 Descent from apostolic men, 
 
 .\nd Church's lawful rule, what then ? 
 
 lie only proved, the Church's creed 
 
 On such slight topics disagreed 
 
 With his own views ; or else required 
 
 Some leading notes from pen inspired, 
 
 To bow her meaning down to teach 
 
 What modern revelations preach. 
 
 If in the search obscure, perplexed 
 
 By comment dark on darker text, 
 
 The flojk their Churcli's doctrine blamed, 
 
 Or turned them from her side ashamed. 
 
 Or, angry at imposture base, 
 
 Sought to o'erthrow her from her place. 
 
 Was he the cause ? Let Nai>per say, 
 
 Let Nappor's tongue his tiioiights betray. 
 
 In Morlcy's study, where he sits, 
 
 By fits he muses, writes by fits.
 
 THE CASTLE. 183 
 
 The page was finished. He arose ; 
 His fiuger pointed to the close 
 
 Of the completed toil : 
 The pride of subtle argument 
 Unto his pallid cheek has lent 
 
 A momentary smile. 
 Then low and bitterly he laughed 
 
 Awhile without control : 
 " England," he ci-ied ; " behold a shaft 
 
 To rankle in thy soul ! 
 Thou wouldst be wise in self-conceit, 
 
 And part thee from our side : 
 Take thou our retribution meet ; 
 
 We also can divide b 
 Thy children from thee, and can sow 
 
 Thy heresies again : 
 And, when our dragon's teeth shall grow, 
 
 They shall be armed men. 
 Take thou these precious gifts, and say 
 
 Their writers love thee well !, 
 Aye^! with such faithful love as they, ' 
 
 Who to Troy's citadel 
 Bequeathed Minerva's horse, and poured 
 
 From its armed caverns down, 
 The fury of the Grecian sword 
 
 Upon the slumbering town. 
 So hug our writings to thy heart, 
 And call them Gospel sounds, 
 
 •' See note 1? at the end of canto.
 
 184 THE CASTLK. 
 
 Till all thy soul is rent apart, 
 Thy body torn with wounds ; 
 
 And when thy sons' affection fails, 
 When their allegiance dies, 
 
 Then say, that our revenge prevails, 
 We spoil thee, and despise !" 
 
 XI. 
 
 He started up in angry mood, 
 
 For at the entrance Commin stood. 
 
 " Commin, from whence ? we deemed thee lost ; 
 
 In vain our spies have sought the host ; 
 
 Traced through the toil of Lansdown fight, 
 
 Thy further course escaped their sight. 
 
 Why want L >r 1 Staunton's tro:)ps their head ?" 
 
 " So ill Lord Staunton's mission sped," 
 Commin replied with gloomy frown, 
 " 'Twas well his leader kept his own. 
 Reginald Vcre has friends too strong 
 In yonder camp to tarry long. 
 Grecnvil and Ilopton both opposed 
 Our nomination." 
 
 " And you closed 
 Their opi)osition with their lives ! 
 Hut Ilopton from his wounds survives. 
 Thus do our late despatches say. 
 Hut why your lK>nie\vard course delay ? 
 Not this the tale of yesterday."
 
 THE CASTLE. 
 
 " You question close, the prince in wrath. 
 Despatched three troopers on my path. 
 I gave them the advance to win, 
 And joined them at their evening inn, 
 Disguised ; and so their potions plied, 
 By morning they grew sick and died. 
 I took their papers and their gold, 
 And I am here. My tale is told." 
 
 XII. 
 
 " Thus far at least. 'Tis well, my friend ! 
 The means are hallowed by the end. 
 For such as thou. But hearken ! why 
 Should London in thy journey lie 
 From Lansdown here ?" 
 
 'Twere hard to tell. 
 Why Commin's gloomy visage fell 
 Before the rector's searching look, 
 And the red blood his cheek forsook. 
 Then in full current crimsoned back. 
 As one preparing for attack, 
 His tall form to its height he drew ; 
 Within his bosom searched, and threw 
 A parchment roll by Napper's side. 
 "jFor this commission," he replied ; 
 " For this, that gives me ample powers 
 To take command of Staunton's towers. 
 From Lansdown fight I posted down. 
 As thou hast said, to London's town. 
 The blood of those malignant dead 
 In pious nostrils savoured 
 
 185
 
 186 THE CASTLE. 
 
 So sweet of vengeance ! It were hard, 
 If 1 obtained not full reward. 
 I asked, and had ; with full consent 
 Of England's loyal parliament. 
 Bend not on me thine angry brow, 
 A higher mandate sways me now." 
 
 XIIT. 
 
 " A higher mandate ? and thy vow," 
 
 Shrieked Napper in his ear ; 
 " Thy soul-condemning vowV' he said, 
 " That thy existence should be led 
 
 As stiff corse on the bier ; 
 As the sick man's directing crutch ; 
 As wax beneath the plasterer's touch !" 
 
 " Napper, dismiss thy fear 
 For my soul's welfare ; nor recall 
 The substance of our mutual thrall I 
 Enough, that of the power divine 
 Thou hold'st thy meaning, and I mine. 
 Meanwhile, behold ! the Commons' choice 
 Is sanctioned by a higher voice, • 
 
 That Napper may not clioose but own." — 
 The words he spoke in lower tone, 
 And gave a scroll. The rector read, 
 Submissive bowed the obedient head, 
 To lip and brow the writing ])rost, 
 Then C'onuuin more composed addressed. 
 
 <: Sl'O iinlu C ut till* 011(1 of cuiitn.
 
 THE CASTLE. 
 
 XIV. 
 
 187 
 
 " Howe'er obtained, (nor is it wise 
 Too strict a search,) I recognise 
 The signature and secret sign : 
 My aid and counsel shall be thine, 
 In this thy purpose. But these towers 
 So promptly granted, are they ours 
 To give or take ? my mind misgives 
 jMe much, if he, thy patron lives. 
 Since last he lent him to our plan, 
 To banish ]Morley hence, a man 
 Enters nor leaves his castle gate ; 
 And strange the rumours that of late 
 Have crept abroad. In vain we send : 
 He sees, they say, nor foe nor friend. 
 On the first night came doubtful word 
 Of courier fleet, who southward spurr'd ; 
 Bolted each gate ; each outlet barr'd ; 
 Doubled on every post the guard ; 
 Their bailiff all the country's side 
 For provender and food has tried 
 In Staunton's name : my part I played, 
 And small the store he back conveyed. 
 'Twere well to err on safety's side ; 
 For men, all passion and all pride, 
 Whom whims of captious temper blind. 
 May scarcely seem to know their mind. 
 Caprice, which made him ours to-day, 
 To-morrow may our cause betray.
 
 188 THE CASTLE. 
 
 Alive, we may not Staunton trust, 
 And dead, our caution falls more just." 
 
 XV. 
 
 " Summon the castle ; and remove 
 Your doubts, or your suspicions prove," 
 The soldier said : " The secret known, 
 Enough of zealous Roundheads own 
 Your cause, to rend it stone from stone." 
 
 " Nay, Commin, nay ! these rustics know, 
 From Staunton's hand was dealt the blow, 
 By which we triumphed ; and with awe 
 Bow to his will as feudal law. 
 Should we unwise withdraw the veil. 
 And Staunton in his holds assail, 
 At once the barriers we remove 
 'Twixt Morley and his people's love. 
 Nor ho Id we yet a seat so strong, 
 With lord and serf to struggle long. 
 Unless the watchful Commons send 
 The troops who may our cause Ijefriend. 
 
 In patience must thou wait the event : 
 Yea, though that castle may contain 
 'I'he bait that turned my c<imra<le's brain. 
 
 P'or can I doubt, that parliament, 
 Regardful of thy modest flame, 
 Prompt to reward thine urgent claim, 
 
 A double guerdon meant t
 
 TnE CASTLE. 189, 
 
 Nor can I thus your knowledge wrong. 
 To deem the tale escaped you long ? 
 How the mad lord his prisoners made. 
 And to his sheltering walls conveyed 
 The father rector, and the maid ? 
 Doubtless such tidings had their weight 
 To fix yon castle's futm-e state." 
 
 XVI. 
 
 His comrade's words of sneering scorn 
 
 Commin's fierce natui-e ill had borne. 
 
 But with the ridicule there came 
 
 A restless sense allied to shame. 
 
 " Enough," he cried : " such taunts forego ! 
 
 Nor deem, that unsupported now, 
 
 I stand in awe of scoffs or frowns. 
 
 Successful from our northern towns 
 
 A strong division Fairfax leads ; 
 
 And his advance so promptly speeds. 
 
 When blushed the morn with rising light. 
 
 His forces crowned the distant height. 
 
 To northward ranged his central force, 
 
 Whilst southward wheeled the Commons' horse. 
 
 With lines extended, to divide 
 
 Its succours fi'om the castle's side. 
 
 I saw the sun with one long blaze 
 
 From helm to helm flash back the rays. 
 
 Nearer they closed. We soon shall know 
 
 If Staunton's lord be fi-iend or foe,
 
 190 THE CASTLE. 
 
 With Fairfax I my station keep 
 Nor absent let my interests sleep. 
 Farewell ! the scroll, my hands conveyed, 
 Supports my claim, secures your aid." 
 
 XVII. 
 
 He left the room : and Napper stands, 
 
 And watched hira down the road : 
 Then bowed his head between his hands, 
 
 Till all his forehead glowed 
 With some emotion, fixed and strong, 
 
 Which, for a while concealed. 
 Now in wild torrent swept along, 
 
 And all his heart revealed. 
 In bitter agony he cried, 
 " I, I, who boasted to divide. 
 Must brook division or must hide 
 The damning blot, or must deny 
 Our faith's first boast, her unity ; 
 Lest heretics our cause l)laspheme 
 And mock the visionary dream, 
 Dispersed like old wife's tale and gone. 
 In spirit and in action one ! 
 Is this our boast ? Like those who breed. 
 With every day, new sect, new creed / 
 Such is our oneness'' ! only wise 
 Our shameful weakness to disguise 
 Nor flash our faults in foemcn's eyes 1 
 
 <l S(!C uotc D at the nud of ruato.
 
 THE CASTLE. 191 
 
 One are we ? yea, in this alone 
 
 Hatred to England's Chiirch and Throne ! 
 
 That unity no time shall shake, 
 
 That unity no power shall break. 
 
 Fisher, thy conqueror feels the shock'' ! 
 
 Thy head, oh Charles, awaits the block ! 
 
 Our lasting unity of hate 
 
 Pursues thee to thy destined fate. 
 
 In this united, shall we prove 
 
 Stronger than thy divided love. 
 
 The rest is all a schoolman's lie, 
 
 A madman's dream of unity ! 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 " Dark thoughts are sweeping through my breast, 
 
 Which, scarcely to myself confessed, 
 
 Had needed a confessor's aid 
 
 With heart less hard : but mine has played 
 
 Too long itself the juggler's part, 
 
 To fall the dupe of kindred art. 
 
 Not difficult the task to shew 
 
 ' Holy obedience ' claimed the blow, 
 
 If blow be struck. What ? he, my tool, 
 
 To thwart his master, and befool ! 
 
 No, not Avhile cunning drugs are found, 
 
 Or dagger's point gives treacherous wound. 
 
 I hear a footstep on the stair. 
 
 Which summons me to meet in prayer, 
 
 e See note E at the end of eauto.
 
 192 THE CASTLE. 
 
 To wrestle ere the Spirit pass. 
 
 No prayer of form, no mumbled mass, 
 
 But fervent with effectual call 
 
 Fresh from the heart and spiritual ; 
 
 Fresh from the heart ! The knaves would start, 
 
 If they could know, from what a heart." — 
 
 We may not from that mockery 
 
 Withdraw the fearful veil, 
 But passing with averted eye 
 
 Pursue our warning tale.
 
 NOTES TO CANTO V. PART I. 
 
 Note A, p. 181. 
 
 Dr. South, in his sermon on Romans i. 32, speaks plainly of the 
 source from which the slanders against consistent Churchmen may be 
 suspected to have originated. Having spoken of the habit of his day 
 of giving honourable names to the worst, and reproachful titles to the 
 best of men and actions, such as on the one side calling fanaticism and 
 schism ' true Protestantism," sacrilege and rapine ' thorough reform,' 
 and the like : and on the other hand, branding conformity to the 
 rules and rites of the best Church in the world, with the false and odiouB 
 name of 'formality;' and traducing all religious, conscientious ob- 
 servers of them as 'mungrel Protestants and Papists in masquerade;' he 
 observes, " Though I doubt not, (liow much soever knaves may abuse 
 fools with words for a time,) hut there will come a day, in which the 
 most active Papists will be found m the puritan mask ; in which it will 
 appear that the conventicle has been the Jesuits' safest kennel, and the 
 Papists themselves, as well as the fanatics, have been the managers 
 uf all those monstrous ontcries against popery, to the ruin of those 
 Protestants whom they most hiite, and whom alone they fear. It being 
 no unheard-of trick for a thief, when he is closely pursued, to cr^- out, 
 ' Stop the thief,' and thereby diverting the suspicion from himself, to 
 get clear away." Folio, fifth edition, p. 242, printed 1720, Dublin, 
 Jos. Leathly. 
 
 Note B, p 183. 
 
 "Since they are hopeless to convince, or to persuade by force of 
 arguments, they endeavour to divide Protestants among themselves; 
 and this they have done ever since the Reformation, by raising sects 
 and separations from our Church in matters of doctrine and practice ; 
 and again subdividing these into lesser parties and fractions, under 
 pretence of greater advances to purity, and a thorough reformation,
 
 194 ROTES. 
 
 and as thH principle may proceed to, no donbt they will panine it ia 
 infinitum." — Foxes aud Firebrands, p. 7. 
 
 Note C, p. 186. 
 
 The porfcclion of obedience required by Ipnatius in to be Mike 
 coft wax in the hands of the superior, to take what form he pleases.' 
 ' Like a corpse, that has no voluntary motion ;' or ' as a staff in an old 
 man's hand which he uses according to his own convenience.' 
 
 This statement was oripnally taken from the Noviciate by Andrew 
 Steinmetz, pp. tM, 233, but has been since verified with respect to 
 the corpse and the old man's stick, by the assistance of a friend, to 
 whom the author is indebted for the following extract. 
 
 Et cxuctissime omncs nerros virium nostrarum ad banc virtutem 
 obedientia-, in pr.mis Suramo Pontifici, dcinde Supcrioribus Societatis 
 exbi)>eudam, intendumus: ita nt omnibus in rebus, ad quas potest 
 cum charitate se obedientia exteudere, ad ejus vocem, perinde ac si 
 a Christo Domino egrederetur (rjuandoquidem ipsius loco, ac pro 
 ipaius amore et reverentia obedieutiam priTStamus) i|Uam promptis- 
 simi simns ; re ((oavis, atque adeo littcra a nobis inrhuata ncidum 
 porfecta rclicta ; ad earn scopum vires omues ac intent ionem in 
 Domino convertendo, ut sancia ohcdicutia turn in exsccatione, tum ia 
 voluntate, tum in intcUoctn sit in nobis semper omni ex parte per- 
 fccta ; cum magna ccleritatc, si>irituuli gaudio, et persevorautia, quid- 
 quid nobis injunctum fncrit, obeundo; omnia justa esse, nobis per- 
 snadendo; omnem scntentiam ac judicium nostrum contrariam cicca 
 quadum obedientia abnegando: et id quidem in omnibus, quip a supe- 
 riure dispouuntur, ulji defiuiri nou possit (qucniadmudum dictum est) 
 aliquod pci'cati genus intercedere. Kt Kil>i qiiisqae porsnudcat, quiid 
 qui Hub obedientia vivunt, se ferri ac rcgi a Divina providentia per 
 HUpcriores vuoi, sinern debcnt, perinde ac si cadaver esseni, quod quo- 
 ijuopurtus ferri, et quantmque ratione tractari se sinit ; vol similiter 
 atque senis biwulut, tjtii uliirumqtie et quaciimijiia in re velit eo uti, 
 qui eiim maun teiwl, ri iiiserrit. Sic cnim ulicdicnw rem qnamcumqne, 
 ■ ui eutn superior ad auxilium tiitius corporis religionis velit impendcre, 
 cum animi hilaritatu debet exsequi; pro certo habeas, quod ea ratione 
 potiui, '|uam re alia cjuuvis, qnam prieslare possit, propriam volun- 
 tutein ac juilii'luni divursum Hcrtaiido, Divina- voluututi respundebit.^ 
 Constitutiones Hoc. Jenu, part vi. c. i. p. 217.
 
 NOTES. 195 
 
 Noted, p. 190. 
 
 Vernm, O Dens bone, quinam isti tandem sunt, qui dissentioues 
 iu nobis reprehendunt. An vero omnes isti inter se consentiunt? 
 an singuU satis habent coustitutnin quid sequautur? An inter illos 
 nuUse unquam dissentiones, nulls lites exstiterunt? Cur ergo, &c. &e. 
 Vix enim unquam inter se conveniunt, nisi forte, ut olim Pharisa?i 
 et Sadduciei, aut Herodes et Pilatus contra Christum. — Juelli Apo- 
 logia, (Valpy's edition,) pp. 27, 28. 
 
 NoteE, p. 191. 
 
 In the discovery of the plot of the Jesuits made to Sir William 
 Boswell, and revealed by him to Archbishop Laud, it is mentioned 
 that there was a design on foot by the Papists against the life of the 
 king and archbishop, for reasons alleged. See Kushworth's Collec- 
 tions, and Foxes and Firebrands, part i. p. 50. 
 
 In a passage from the Reliquise Baxterianse, quoted by the Rev. 
 J.C.Ciosthwaiteinhisnotes to the sermon before alluded to, p. 157, it is 
 mentioned that " there were thirty of them (Romish priests) in London, 
 who, by instructions from Cardinal Mazarine, had sate in council and 
 debated the question whether the king should be put to death or not? 
 And that it was carried in the affirmative." Mr. Robert Ware says 
 that " the Romish priest and confessor is known, who, when he saw 
 the fatal stroke given to our holy king and martyr, flourished with his 
 sword and said, ' Now the greatest enemy that we have in the world 
 is gone.'" — Foxes and Firebrands, part ii. p. 86. In the same pas- 
 gage mention is made of forty or more priests and Jesuits present at 
 and rejoicing in the martyrdom. 
 
 Concerning the enmity of the papists against Archbishop Laud, 
 Robert Ware thus writes ; " The papists upon this account, and also 
 remembering the overthrow he gave to Fisher the Jesuit, thought 
 they could not accomplish their evil design unless they took away 
 this pillar of the Church also ; then under a dissenting disguise they 
 cast aspersions on this holy father, knowing nothing could make him 
 more odious to the commonalty than to say that he was a papist, or 
 endeavoured to bring in popery; thus continuing in the gall of bitter- 
 u«a» until he was cut off also." — Foxes and Firebrands, part ii. p. 83.
 
 or an to ;lFifti). 
 
 PART SECOND. 
 
 Z\)t ©agtle. 
 
 Reginald Vere and the army of Fairfax arrive at the castle. 
 The siege and its termination. Commin is disappointed. 
 
 Ferdinand. No aids from Sicily .' hath hope forsook us ; 
 And that vain comfort to affliction, pity. 
 By our vowed friend denied us ? we can nor live 
 Nor die with honour : like beasts in a toil 
 We wait the leisure of the bloody hunter, 
 Who is not so far reconciled unto us, 
 As in one death to give a period 
 To our calamities ; but in delaying 
 The fate we cannot fly from, starved with wants. 
 We die this nighl, to live again to-nmiTow, 
 And suffer greater torments. 
 
 DBveo. There is not 
 
 Three days' provisions for every soldier 
 At an ounce of bread a day, left in the city. 
 
 Massii.ngeb's Maid of Honour, Act ii. Sc. 4. 
 
 I. 
 
 There were doiihtful watchers in Reginald's towers, 
 
 And heavily pa.st the anxion.s hour.';, 
 
 An<l many the glance that strained afar 
 
 O'er the spreading hills of the southern war. 
 
 And dear to their eyes would the march have shewed 
 
 Of Reginald's pikes o'er the heathy road ;
 
 THE CASTLE. 197 
 
 And dear to their hearts would have thrilled the tone 
 
 Of his bugle notes in the distance blown. 
 
 And the watcher's voice, and the watcher's ear, 
 
 Were prompt to summons, and prompt to hear, 
 
 And heavily past from day to day 
 
 In Reginald's halls the hours away. 
 
 But every day in Reginald's halls, 
 
 When the sun first peeped o'er the guarded walls. 
 
 In the little chapel the sweet bell pealed, 
 
 And armed and aged men there kneeled, 
 
 To Him who the arrowy quiver shakes. 
 
 And the shield, and the sword, and the battle breaks : 
 
 And every night as the sun dipped low. 
 
 Tinging the sweep of the mountain's brow, 
 
 Solemnly, slowlj, for even-song 
 
 The bell of the castle its clear notes rung ; 
 
 And down in the chapel kneeled again, 
 
 Aged retainers, and armed men, 
 
 Hallowing the Avails in which they slept. 
 
 Hallowing the darkness that o'er them crept, 
 
 Seeking the favour of Him to gain. 
 
 Whose aid unless man's towers obtain. 
 
 Waking the watchman waketh in vain. 
 
 II. 
 
 Askest thou, whose was the guiding hand, 
 That the soldier's refuge in trouble planned ; 
 Cleansed the chapel from dust and stain, 
 And gave to the worship of God again 1
 
 196 THE CASTLE. 
 
 Askest thou, whose was the ready heart. 
 
 In that holy work bore willing part, 
 
 Cherished the altar, and decked the shrine. 
 
 Treading like pilgrim through courts divine ? 
 
 Askest thou, whose is the voice of prayer. 
 
 Daily and nightly oiFering there ; 
 
 And whose are the notes of fervent love, 
 
 Raising the anthem to God above ? 
 
 Grateful each soldier's lip proclaims 
 
 Their gentle guests, and they blest the names. 
 
 lU. 
 
 For well they deemed that Providence, 
 
 In this their troublous hour, 
 Ilad been their refuge and defence, 
 
 And spread His veil of power 
 Around them, as IIis care directs 
 
 Men's stubborn path of ill, 
 Where least their darkling heart expects 
 
 To work His gracious wiU. 
 So did they deem the ire and pride, 
 
 That IMorley's path withstood, 
 Had God in mercy turned aside, 
 
 To their peculiar good. 
 For willing heart and ready hand 
 
 Too often stand in need 
 Of voice accustomed to command, 
 
 And spirit promj)t to lejid. 
 And blessed is the leader's part 
 
 Whose influence hjis been given
 
 THE CASTLE. 199 
 
 To ready hand and willing heart, 
 To point the way to heaven. 
 
 IT. 
 
 Marion sat in a turret high, 
 
 Hanging over the guarded court ; 
 And thither, as day by day past by, 
 
 The gentle maiden made resort, 
 Whiling away the tedious hours 
 Of anxious watching in Reginald's towers. 
 Asa little cage on a cottage wall 
 
 Pours forth the warblings of captive bird. 
 So from that chamber, round and small. 
 
 The sweet girl's mellow voice was heard, 
 Hovering over the tvirret high 
 In notes of plaintive melody. 
 Skilfully fashioned by Marion's side. 
 
 Frame of embroidery work was spread ! 
 But carelessly there her fingers plied 
 
 With listless needle the silken thread ; 
 And slowly and slowly formed to view, 
 Figures and faces and landscapes grew. 
 For Marion's thoughts were far away 
 
 From silken thread of embroidery frame, 
 And sometimes she thought of battle fray, 
 
 And sometimes of one she dared not name ; 
 And her form that trembled, her cheek that glowed, 
 The varying tone of her visions shewed. 
 For sometimes her small white hands were clasped 
 
 Over her knees in calm distress ;
 
 200 THE CASTLE. 
 
 And sometimes her silken thread she grasped, 
 
 But the needle's point was motionless : 
 And within her blue eyes' liquid cell 
 The tear-drop trembled but never fell. 
 And then she sung some mournful air, 
 
 Scarce knew the maiden that she sung, 
 But the music, like a secret prayer, 
 
 Soothed the heart as it flowed along : 
 And then she smiled at her saddening strain, 
 And strove to bend to her task again. 
 And then did her taper fingers range 
 
 Over the wel) so light and fast, 
 As if she sought to work a change 
 
 In her mournful thoughts : and it came at last 
 For all at once she stopped, and found 
 llcr musings wandering in faiiry ground. 
 And then she blushed and then she smiled. 
 
 The one spoke pleasure, the other shame ; 
 And she shook her head like a doubting child, 
 
 And hastily rose from tlie idle frame : 
 And either fancy the ear beguiled. 
 
 Or half she uttered Reginald's name. 
 But the faltering sound of the treacherous word 
 In the doep-sphiyed loop-hole was scarcely heard, 
 For she bent within the arched sj)ace 
 As though she would hide her blushing face : 
 She bent within, till the outer air 
 Played with the rings uf lior gulden hair. 
 
 Her eye she cast on the southern hills : 
 She looked ; she tremljlcd : a sudden shout,
 
 THE CASTLE. 201 
 
 And a piercing cry through the castle thrills ; 
 
 And the loud alarum bell rung out : 
 The bell rung out its loud alarms, 
 
 And clanged and clattered the sounds of steel, 
 Of training of guns, and clash of arms. 
 
 And ringing of spvir on armed heel : 
 And longer and louder the warning rose, 
 
 " To the walls ! to the walls ! the foes ! the foes !" 
 The maiden strains her anxious eyes 
 
 Towards a distant ridge. 
 Where wreaths of smoky vapours rise, 
 In curling columns to the skies, 
 
 Along the reeking edge, 
 Tracking the army, as they came, 
 With desolation, waste, and flame. 
 And first she marked, as if some cloud 
 
 Had flung its shadows down, 
 Encircling with a murky shroud 
 
 The mountain's darkening crown ; 
 And nearer, nearer, now she sees 
 
 The restless heights above. 
 As with the tops of waving trees 
 Swayed to and fro by fitful breeze, 
 
 The varying shadows move. 
 Till more defined and clearer grow 
 
 Each martial sight and sound. 
 The banners wave, the bugles blow, 
 The war-steeds tramp and neigh below. 
 The cannon groan, the helmets glow, 
 
 O'er all the embattled ground. 
 At first in undivided mass. 
 The living numbers crowd the pass. 
 
 Till all the heights are won :
 
 202 THE CASTLE. 
 
 Then more distinct, as now more near, 
 In close divisions, marked and clear, 
 Of wing, and centre, van, and rear, 
 
 The steady host moves on : 
 Contracting now in order deep ; 
 
 Now throwing out an arm of men, 
 Who skirt the line with rapid sweep, 
 
 Then vanish in the ranks again. 
 .\nd now again the host moves down ; 
 
 Nearer and nearer now they come ; 
 More loudly swells the trumpet's tone, 
 More hollow sounds the rolling drum. 
 And nearer yet and nearer now 
 The horsemen's cloaks her eyes may know : 
 
 May mark the broad hat's sable brim, 
 The heavy shade o'er heavy brow ; 
 And, in deep chorus mnnnuring low, 
 
 She hears the zealot's stillcn hymn 
 Mount upwards from the advancing powers, 
 Growling their vengeance on the towers. 
 
 VI. 
 
 She looks forth again ! The whole host is in motion ; 
 It waves to and fro like some tempest-tost ocean. 
 Through the ranks a loud shout uf astonishment rings 
 Far eastward and westward it spreadeth its wings ; 
 And men galloj) forth from its centre again, 
 And scour in swift cohimns the road and the plain. 
 Hushed, hushed, by auiazement, the chorus has died 
 Through the I'uritan anny, whilst down the hill side 
 At full speed pressing forward the cavalry ride :
 
 THE CASTLE. 203 
 
 From the castle's defenders peal loud in her ears 
 Fiercer shouts of defiance, encouraging cheers ! 
 Some sight of deep interest has risen to their view ; 
 Some prize of high honour those riders pursue ! 
 No longer hath the maiden power 
 
 To linger there alone, 
 She hies her from the turret tower, 
 
 And to the walls is gone. 
 
 VII. 
 
 The ramparts are crowded : some feeling untold 
 
 Hath borne in one current the young and the old : 
 
 The women in terror, the men in amaze, 
 
 Into groups are all gathering in silence to gaze : 
 
 By culverin and falconet pointed below. 
 
 The gunners are watching the march of the foe : 
 
 Their matches are lighted, and varying their aim, 
 
 As altering in distance the enemy came. 
 
 But, oh, with what thoughts, scarcely daring to breathe, 
 
 Turns Marion her eyes to the objects beneath ; 
 
 Where, urged at full speed through a gulley of green, 
 
 The Commons' dark files and the castle between, 
 
 A small group of horsemen are wending their way, 
 
 Hot, weary, and road-soiled, and fresh from a fray : 
 
 For, slung o'er each chai-ger the saddle before. 
 
 The prize of the foray each cavalier bore. 
 
 Yet sparkling had once been the arms on their breasts. 
 
 And waved the tall plumes on their steel-plated crests ; 
 
 And far o'er their shoulders, loose streaming in air, 
 
 Flowed forth the long cui-ls of their ringleted hair.
 
 204 THE CASTLE. 
 
 Ill timed with the squadrons of Fairfax appear 
 That pikemen's small muster, the followers of Vere. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 By a way unfrequented, a stream's rugged bed, 
 
 His handful of troopers had Reginald led ; 
 
 And safely they marched, whilst the shadows of night 
 
 Concealed from the ranks of the rebels their flight ; 
 
 And scarfs of dark tawny their corslets display ', 
 
 To mislead the suspicions of foemen by day. 
 
 Thus safely in distance the jjarty disguise 
 
 Had hid their advance from the Puritan eyes : 
 
 But when in full light from the banks they advance, 
 
 And the Roundheads behold their bright anus as they glance, 
 
 The feathers that wave, and the mantles that glow, 
 
 The chivalric badge of the loyal they know 
 
 And burst forth in clamours, "The foe ! 'tis the foe !" 
 
 At once, the discovery when Reginald sees, 
 
 lie scornfully loosens his flag to the breeze ; 
 
 At once from their breasts their false colours they fling ; 
 
 At once into gallop the goaded steeds spring ; 
 
 At once, pouncing down like a hawk on his prey, 
 
 Forth thunder the Roundheads to cural)er their way ; 
 
 With tiie goal in their sight, with the game in their view, 
 
 Spur the Royalists on and the rebels j)ursue : 
 
 .•\ud each side, as they favour, cheer onward the race, 
 
 Ah pursued or pursuers arc best in the chase. 
 
 s Tim roloum iif till! pnrliiimciit. In tlic riOiuf of Diixiiif; Hoiimo by Colnncl 
 (tii)(<-, llif I.iiyiilihU won- i>ruM)(i' luwiiy Hcurfii mill rililiuiiN, Unit tlii^y luight b« 
 lukrii Tiir lli« I'lirliuiuuQt nuldiurn. — Cluroadou, vul. ii. p. 7U2.
 
 THE CASTLE. 205 
 
 IX. 
 
 Well fared it that day with the troopers of Vere, 
 
 That, ere the grey light of the morning drew near, 
 
 They had wound their still way through the hollow below, 
 
 By the banks and thick hedges concealed from the foe, 
 
 Or, burdened and tired, they had struggled in vain, 
 
 The refuge of Staunton's high ramparts to gain. 
 
 But long is the chase, when the quarry is fled. 
 
 And weary the track of the slave-ship ahead ; 
 
 And vainly the Roundheads press on like the wind, 
 
 And pour their hot fury in volleys behind ; 
 
 Yet nearer, yet nearer, yet nearer they come : 
 
 The pack to their check, and the game to its home. 
 
 " Fling forward the drawbridge ! Throw open the gate ! 
 
 They are on ! They are over ! down, down with the grate !" 
 
 In headlong career the pursuers come on : 
 
 Back, back, on their haunches the chargers are thrown : 
 
 For they see in full passage the drawbridge arise, 
 
 And yawning beneath them the hollow moat lies. 
 
 " Draw, draw, the rein in, ere the chance shall be lost ! 
 
 Wheel, wheel from the castle ! spur, spur to the host." 
 
 " Now, gunners above, whilst the moment is ours. 
 
 Let culverin and falconet speak from the towers ! 
 
 Again, yet again ! to our craft it were shame 
 
 If those rascally Roundheads return as they came : 
 
 Fill the hills with long echoes, the castle with flame !" 
 
 The shot telleth fearfully ; dense is the foe : 
 
 Down horse, and down rider, do^vn panoply, go.
 
 206 THE CASTLE. 
 
 From the ranks of the rebels the cannons reply, 
 The Cavaliers shout as the thunder rolls by : 
 There are rents in the banners, and dints in the wall : 
 It is not for such thunder that Staunton shall fall. 
 But the passage without, where the troopers have sped. 
 Is strewed with the wounded, dismounted, and dead. 
 
 X. 
 
 And Reginald stands in Staunton's hall, 
 
 And his thoughts appear like a feverish dream. 
 
 That the waking senses would fain recall, 
 Yet may not ! So disjointed seem 
 
 The shapes, in which the slumberer's eyes. 
 
 Reflect the world's realities. 
 
 Yet proofs in every sight and sound, 
 
 Too strong for doubting, cling around : 
 
 The body in the chapel laid. 
 
 The friendly priest, the bashful maid, 
 
 The obedient herd who anxious watch 
 
 His eye to read, his voice to catch. 
 
 Conviction to his dreams afford : 
 
 Reginald Vere is Staunton's Lord ! 
 
 XI. 
 
 But few the' thoughts, that joy inspire 
 To Ueginalds heart, such title gave : 
 
 A faithless Chtirchman I cruel sire t 
 A party's tool ! and jiassion's slave !
 
 THE CASTLE. 207 
 
 Yes, such was he whose ashes slept 
 
 In that proud castle, his no more : 
 And Reginald o'er his father wept : 
 
 And, could his tears a life restore 
 Of penitence for guilt's foul stain, 
 Had Staunton's lord revived again — ■ 
 In vain, in vain, the grief may flow, 
 
 When once God's fiat issues forth : 
 In vain, to free from realms of woe 
 
 The imperfect pledge of human worth : 
 The holiest tears in vain we shed. 
 
 In vain the purest oiFerings rise, 
 They may not pierce the narrow bed 
 
 Where the soul-severed body lies : 
 They may not the mysterious states 
 
 Of intermediate life control, 
 Where, lost or saved, in secret waits 
 
 Unseen the disembodied soul. 
 On earth the trial has been given : 
 
 On earth the ransom has been paid : 
 The choice between a hell or heaven 
 
 On earth has been for ever made. 
 Behold, the Scripture warneth well, 
 
 " As the tree falleth, so it lies !" 
 Dives lift up his eyes in hell, 
 
 And Lazarus woke in paradise. 
 Then spare thy prayers for senseless dust ! 
 
 For good or ill their path is trod. 
 In mercy hope, in goodness trust. 
 
 But leave the event in faith to God 1
 
 208 THE CASTLE. 
 
 XII. 
 
 The siege went on : the days flew fast, 
 
 And toil and anxious thought 
 A brief oblivion of the past 
 
 To Reginald's spirit brought. 
 In anxious thought, and ceaseless toil, 
 
 The busy hours are gone ; 
 Ilis friends to cheer, his foes to foil : — 
 
 And still the siege went on I 
 The siege went on : for midnight gloom 
 
 The rebel hosts await ; 
 Then silently and dark they come, 
 
 To storm the unguarded gate : 
 Thrice sounds assault with bugle note, 
 
 Thrice are their ranks o'erthrown, 
 Driven backward from the guardian moat: 
 
 And still the siege went on ! 
 The siege went on : from trenched height 
 
 His batteries Fairfax laid, 
 And on the ramparts, day and night, 
 
 With all his cannon played. 
 Hard arc the cannon's iron balls, 
 
 But hard the opposing stone ; 
 They might not shake the stout old walls : 
 
 And still the siege went on ! 
 The stateliest forest trees they fell, 
 
 And slay the deer beneath ; 
 They fire the copse in dale and dell, 
 
 And blacken moss and heath ;
 
 THE CASTLE. 209 
 
 Through all the park extended wide 
 
 The outposts' armour shone ; 
 Through all the chase the troopers ride 
 
 And still the siege went on ! 
 They cut away the staff of life 
 
 From the beleaguered towers ; 
 They bring to aid them in their strife 
 
 The famine's wasting powers ; 
 They sit around and watch their prey 
 
 Till every hope is gone, 
 Week after week, day after day : — 
 
 And still the siege went on ! 
 The siege went on : and famine's tooth 
 
 Hath bitten deep within : 
 Hath paled the glowing cheek of youth, 
 
 And stained the shrivelled skin : 
 Hath given the voice's melody 
 
 A melancholy tone, 
 And hollowed round the sunken eye : — 
 
 But still the siege went on ! 
 The siege went on, and Morley's pace 
 
 Is very sad and slow ; 
 And shrunk is Marion's lovely face, 
 
 And dark is Reginald's brow : 
 Yet not the less, in calm distress, 
 
 Was faith triumphant shewn. 
 In hope to pray, in love to bless :— 
 And still the siege went on !
 
 210 THE CASTLE. 
 
 XIII. 
 
 Oh lives there one, in main or isle, 
 
 Who can look in the face of death and smile ? 
 
 Who can calmly see the foe draw near 
 
 And feel no shuddering sense of fear ; 
 
 Yet know that no art of man can stay 
 
 The slow approach of his chilling way ? 
 
 I mean not in the battle plain, 
 
 When he comes with the pomp, of his warrior train, 
 
 And martial music the bosom warms, 
 
 And the neighing of steeds, and the ring of arms, 
 
 And waving banner, and glancing crest, 
 
 Like some fair pageant glads the breast : 
 
 When youth and ardour drain the bowl 
 
 That glory holds to the hero's soul ; 
 
 And the present danger is lost for aye 
 
 In the j)r.use and the pride of a future day : 
 
 Widely and wildly though death is dealt, 
 
 It is not in battle the darts are felt : 
 
 For the hero who falls forgets his power 
 
 In tlie maddening joy of that latest hour. 
 
 XIV. 
 
 I mean not in the sick man's bed, 
 
 When all hopes that cling to life are fled, 
 
 And spirits an<l strength arc wasted and gone, 
 
 Ah the slow decay creeps surely on ; 
 
 And tlie leeches' skill and care are vain. 
 
 And tlie victim would rest fmm grief and pain.
 
 THE CASTLE. 211 
 
 And leave the world with its troubles here 
 
 For an endless joy in a brighter sphere, 
 
 Which faith points out as the Christian's meed : — 
 
 Oh death would be welcome to him indeed ! 
 
 XV. 
 
 But when the hopes of our life are new, 
 
 When our joys are fresh and our friends are true ; 
 
 Ere disease has ventured our limbs to bind, 
 
 Ere care has darkened our brow or mind ; 
 
 With all that is dearest and best to men, 
 
 To stand before' the destroyer then, 
 
 With nothing to soften, with nothing to cheer, 
 
 The anxious throbbings of boding fear, 
 
 That beholdeth the king of terrors nigh, 
 
 Whom we may not avert, whom we cannot fly : 
 
 And then to await that closing scene 
 
 With a smiling look and a brow serene ! 
 
 Oh lives there one, of such stern mould, 
 
 So firm in soul, in heart so cold, 
 
 As to stand the test ? If such there lives, 
 
 No human strength the endurance gives. 
 
 No human hopes, unwarmed by faith, 
 
 Can gain such triumph over death. 
 
 XVI. 
 
 But, oh ! what thoughts had Reginald Vere 
 When anxious looks and shapes appear 
 With haggard cheek, and eye-ball dim, 
 Upturned in mute appeal to him !
 
 212 TUE CASTLE. 
 
 And, oh ! what sadder thous^hts to brook 
 His friend and pastor's wasting look, 
 And accents faltering now to raise 
 The daily orison of praise : 
 Though not the less in faith was heard 
 From patient lips submissive word ! 
 But deeper, sadder, was the pain 
 By Reginald's heart confessed, 
 To see the maid, his gentle guest, 
 Most fragile of the struggling train, 
 With patient grief her lot sustain, 
 Whilst she her care addressed 
 To hide her sufferings from the rest. 
 And by strong energy control 
 The weaker frame and feebler soul ! 
 
 XVII. 
 
 Nor place is this, nor this the time. 
 To tell in strains of saddened rhyme, 
 How love, to woes impending blind, 
 The youth and maiden's heart entwined, 
 When long concealed, but felt by each, 
 The communing of look and speech, 
 And mutual interests, mutual creed, 
 Combined the growing llamc to feed ; 
 And yet more firmly danger's hour 
 Insured the wayward passion's power ; 
 Alas ! increased its power, to throw 
 O'er danger's hour redoubled woe !
 
 THE CASTLE. 213 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 For now two months have sped their course, 
 
 And now the hour draws nigh. 
 When loyal faith must yield to force 
 
 And hard extremity. 
 For scarcely in the halls remain 
 Two days' scant store of hoarded grain, 
 The walls' defenders to sustain. 
 So ill for that beleaguered hold 
 Had Napper's watchful caution told ; 
 Whose ready agents had withstood 
 The castle's foragers for food. 
 Which, prescient of the deadly game, 
 Norris sent forth in Staunton's name. 
 As vainly to their comrade's aid 
 The royal leaders thrice essayed 
 The approach to Staunton's walls to win, 
 To pour the welcome succours in. 
 Vain, noble earlb, thy veteran skill, 
 Vain, Rupert, thine impetuous will, 
 From all the north's embattled side 
 To those vexed walls your aid to guide ; 
 So closely round the endangered post 
 Had Fairfax spread the rebel host. 
 
 XIX. 
 
 All, all, that strong man's heart can dare, 
 Or strong man's spirit can sustain, 
 
 * " The earl of Newcastle, a man of great rouratro and sicnal fidelity 
 to the crown, at that time general in the north." — Clar., vol.ii. p. 'A0\.
 
 :^i4 THE CASTLE. 
 
 Did Reginald in that trial share 
 
 With constant breast, and dared in vain. 
 Now must he bend his stubborn heart : 
 
 Nor, obstinate in hopeless strife, 
 Prolong for hours a desperate part. 
 
 When every hour must cost a life. 
 All hath been done for Charles's cause. 
 
 For his own faith and honour all I 
 And, if high Heaven's mysterious laws 
 
 Of Staunton's towers decree the fall, 
 How oft, where all to man seems lost, 
 
 Have God's great victories been won ! 
 In what man deems his weakest post, 
 
 How oft hath God's best will been done ! 
 Down, stubborn heart ! thy pride restrain, 
 And dare to yield, where strife is vain ! 
 
 XX. 
 
 And the parley sounded : and sad .and slow, 
 
 From the walls the mission went : 
 They came to the rcl>cls' camp below, 
 
 And they came to Fairfax' tent, 
 liut ill for the cause of the loyal band, 
 
 A sight that bodes no good. 
 Adviser harsh by the general's hand 
 
 The traitor C'omniin stood. 
 He hath cast his gay apparel by. 
 
 As the serpent casts his skin ; 
 But he kej)! without the sury)ent'8 eye, 
 
 And the serpent's heart within.
 
 THE CASTLE. ^15 
 
 And he touched the chord of jealous hate, 
 And he fanned revengeful flame, 
 
 As thus the stern decree of fate 
 From the lips of Fairfax came. 
 
 XXI. 
 
 " Quarter to all, and passage free, 
 
 On their parole we yield : 
 Pound by a strict neutrality 
 
 To shun contested field. 
 Quarter to all, but those alone "= 
 
 Whom laws of arms exclude ; 
 Whose lives are forfeit to atone 
 
 For seas of sainted blood. 
 Of these if one within our power 
 
 Till morning dawn survives, 
 Suspended on your topmost tower 
 
 They answer by their lives." 
 Followed the list : and first there came 
 Reginald Vere, thy loyal name ; 
 And Morley, thine ! your crime the same : 
 Obedienc'^ and allegiance shewn 
 To England's altar, king, and throne. 
 Next came of those who manned the wall, 
 Norris, the faithful seneschall ; 
 And comrades ten, who firm and just 
 In Staunton's hall held well-earned trust, 
 Most honoured now that threatened fate 
 Their worth approved by rebels' hate. 
 
 c See uote D, cauto VI. purt I.
 
 £16 THE CASTLE. 
 
 " Such are the doomed : if morning see 
 Their persons ours, the gallows tree 
 Awaits their necks : the rest are free." 
 He spoke : and with that sentence stem 
 Back to the walls the band return. 
 
 xxir. 
 
 And there was preparation's din, 
 
 And counsel's anxious tone, 
 And hurried steps and soimds within, 
 
 Until the sun went down, 
 Setting in storm, as through the skies 
 The cloud-borne tempests darkening rise. 
 Then silence sunk o'er tower and keep, 
 And the tired fortress seemed to sleep. 
 
 XXIII. 
 
 In the night a smothered murmur hums within the castle walls, 
 In the night with stealthy motion o'er the moat the draw- 
 
 liridge falls : 
 And a little band of riders pass the raised portcullis arch, 
 Not a light betrays their sally, not a light betrays their march. 
 All is darkness, thick black darkness, and the wind is howling 
 
 shrill, 
 .Sweeping round in gusty currents through the park and o'er 
 
 the hill 
 And the niin tails lu.st and driving in amidst the rebel camj)s, 
 And the banks are cleft with gullies, and the plain is filled 
 
 with swamps :
 
 THE CASTLE. 217 
 
 And the tall trees hoarsely swaying, by the tempest split 
 and rent, 
 
 Groan around the ancient castle, groan around the Round- 
 heads' tents. 
 
 All the night is filled with noises, making darkness still more 
 dread : 
 
 Awfully the storm increases, rolls the thimder over head. 
 
 AU the night is wUd with terror, crushing branches, braying 
 woods, 
 
 Beating rain and roaring thunder, splashing pools and rush- 
 ing floods. 
 
 Keep the shelter, godly Roundheads ! Keep it safely ! who 
 may dare 
 
 In a midnight so tremendous to encounter outer air ? 
 
 See, beneath the squall gusts staggering on his post the watch- 
 man reel ! 
 
 Hark, the big drops falling chilly clatter on the naked steel ! 
 
 Vainly, vainly, 'gainst the whirlwind wraps his cloak the 
 horseman round, 
 
 For the wild blast struggling with it bears both horse and 
 man to ground. 
 
 Keep the shelter, godly Roundhead ! nights like this of rain 
 and storm 
 
 From the outpost's hissing watch-fire fair excuse for shelter 
 form. 
 
 Shelter ! shelter ! hold the shelter ! howling winds and gusty 
 squalls 
 
 Well may keep your watch, careering round the half sur- 
 rendered walls. 
 
 For one night, one night, no longer ! roar ye tempests, louder 
 
 roar. 
 Keep the guard, and with the morrow shall unfold you 
 
 stubborn door.
 
 218 THE CASTl.E. 
 
 Keep the walls in guard ye tempests ! Hah, again a fiercer 
 blast, 
 
 Like a band of coming horsemen, by the watch-fire rushes past. 
 
 Like the sound of coming horsemen, on the leaves the rain- 
 drops beat, 
 
 Like the snorting of their horses, like the trampling of their 
 feet. 
 
 See beneath the tall trees' vistas misty shadows wind their 
 course, 
 
 'Tis the elm trees' dark-crowned foliage swaying in the 
 tempest's force. 
 
 Many a watchman doubtful listens to the tricks his fancies 
 play, 
 
 Hears the tempest, sees the shadows, in the distance sweep 
 away. 
 
 Many a watchman safe in cover laughs the thoughts of foes 
 to scorn. 
 
 And the visions pass unchallenged far beyond the outposts 
 borne. 
 
 Keep the shelter, godly Roundheads ! misty shape and vary- 
 ing sound 
 
 III may stir the cautious soldier in a shadow-haunted ground ! 
 
 XXIV. 
 
 How suddenly, with dawning light, 
 Did all that tunnoil close ! 
 
 How calmly, how serenely bright, 
 The glorious mom arose ! 
 
 Ami yet with sadness looked the mom 
 On the di-sordercd plain :
 
 THE CASTLE. 219 
 
 Ui^rooted trees and branches torn 
 And meadows channeled and forlorn 
 
 With streams and pools of rain. 
 But sadder yet I trow the sight, 
 
 Sadder the sounds I trow, 
 That with the day's advancing light 
 
 Must Staunton's castle know ! 
 
 XXV. 
 
 By the warning bugle gathering round each half-deserted post, 
 
 Scattered by the midnight tempest, forward moved the Round- 
 head host : 
 
 With rebellion's banners waving, in triiunphant pride they join, 
 
 And, towards the walls devoted, sternly marched the exulting 
 line. 
 
 Peals the psalm of praise ascending, such as Israel's chosen 
 band 
 
 To the God of armies offered on Philistia's conquered strand. 
 
 Wild fanatic fancies mixing with the warriors' watchful care, 
 
 Sounds of military music mingled with the soimds of prayer. 
 
 Preachers half, and half commanders, first in battle, first in 
 grace. 
 
 With a warlike congregation following on their solemn pace, 
 
 Now the holy book uplifting, waving now the conqueror's 
 sword, 
 
 March the generals of the army, march the teachers of the 
 word ; 
 
 Till before the castle's portal halting spread the enthusiast 
 powers. 
 
 And the trumpet's threatening flourish simimon the sur- 
 rendered towers.
 
 22Q THE CASTLE. 
 
 XXVI. 
 
 On Staunton's towers no banners float, 
 
 The ramparts all forsaken frown ; 
 No guns are pointed to the moat, 
 
 Beside the gate no guard looks down : 
 No sounds are heard within the walls, 
 
 No angry murmurs, frighted cries ; 
 But, when the trumpet's flourish calls, 
 
 A solitary horn replies. 
 
 And the drawbridge lowered before them o'er the moat falls 
 
 heavily, 
 ^\jid the stout portcullis rising shews within the passage free ; 
 And the castle's brave defenders, with a dark and sullen port, 
 Stand defenceless unresisting ranged within the inner court : 
 Wasted forms, and haggard faces, all the past endiuance tell, 
 And beside them piled and useless are the aiTns they bore so 
 
 well. 
 
 The flourish of trumpets pealed louder and longer, 
 
 The psalm of rejoicing rose fiercer and stronger, 
 
 And slowly amid the confusion and din 
 
 The chiefs of the Commons ride haughtily in. 
 
 They have watched, they have prayed : to their watch and 
 
 their prayers 
 Ilath heaven given a blessing, for Staunton is theirs. 
 
 XXVH. 
 
 By Fairfax' side dark Commin rode : 
 With mingled joy hia visage glowed,
 
 THE CASTLE. 221 
 
 And doubt, as roved his eye around, 
 For something that he has not found : 
 Then turned to Fairfax. 
 
 Calm and grave, 
 The general marked the look he gave, 
 And sternly questioned : " Where are they. 
 Whom justice claimeth for her prey 1 
 They, who, our treaty's terms declare, 
 In mercy's favours hold no share ] 
 
 Something of fire was in the eye, 
 
 And joy within the tone, 
 With which the cavaliers reply : 
 
 " Fairfax, the doomed are gone ! 
 Safe, if thou know'st not of their com'se, 
 
 And storm their flight has sped : 
 If they have failed their path to force, 
 
 Safe also ! They are dead ! 
 Better to brave an anny's shock, 
 
 Attempting to be free, 
 Than bow the head upon the block, 
 
 Or load the accursed tree." 
 
 XXVIII. 
 
 " Then shall jow lives for theirs be paid,' 
 
 Vindictive Commin fiercely said : 
 
 " Then shall the fate, their arts evade. 
 
 On all within be poured. 
 Comrades, the just revenge of Heaven 
 Forbiddeth quarter to be given 
 
 To this malignant board :
 
 222 THE CAPTI.E. 
 
 Smite hip and thigh I" — But Fairfax broke 
 
 Upon his speech, and mildly spoke ; 
 
 For nobler feelings of the soid 
 
 The stem Republican control : 
 
 Not yet disgi-aced by deeds of shame, 
 
 Which yet the indignant spirit stir 
 At Lisle's and Lucas' martyred name, 
 
 Slain in cold blood at Colchester''. 
 
 XXIX. 
 
 " Commin, not so ! our faith is pledged. As those, 
 
 Who, rashly yielding to deceitful foes, 
 
 To Gideon's messengers gave peaceful word, 
 
 And saved the city from the avenging sword ; 
 
 The}' took not, they, the lives they swore to save, 
 
 But fairl}' acted by the pledge they gave : 
 
 So shall not we, Jehovah's aiiny now, 
 
 A like regard to plighted troth avow ? 
 
 Soldiers, your lives are safe. But, for the wall, 
 
 Sacked and disniantleil let the castle fall I 
 
 We may not waste our troops on guarded towers. 
 
 Nor risk their charge to other hands than om'S. 
 
 The cannon, to the front ! your fire begin, 
 
 Down with the towers and break the ramparts in." 
 
 XXX. 
 
 " Hold ?" Commin shouted, " hold ! thy pledge fulfil ! 
 These towers are mine : behold the Commons' will 
 
 <1 Sir (ii'iirxi* Liali*, iiiiil Sir ('liiirli'!< I.uniH. ('lurciuloii lays the 
 hlumi' iif lliiH hurliiirijiiH niiirdi-r upun Irvloii, who ho Huppo.tfN to have 
 Kwayfd Fuirfux. — Cluriiudoii, vol. iii. p. 270.
 
 THE CASTLE. 22 
 
 Rightly attested ! General ! course like this 
 The cause's followers well may hold amiss. 
 These lines regard. Their pm-port hast thou read. 
 Recall the cannon !" 
 
 " Commin, on my head 
 If censure follow, be the censure laid. 
 The people's general, shall I seem afraid ? 
 I, I, who hold so high a charge at stake, 
 To risk such quarrel for my country's sake ? 
 The towers must fall. If fifty Commins claim 
 Their right to hold them in the Commons' name. 
 Nay more. The orders that your claims upheld 
 Have been rescinded. There are foes concealed, 
 Who mar yom- interests. This, Sir, have I known. 
 But, whilst these walls' defenders held their own, 
 Need seemed there not such secret to reveal. 
 Might cool your interest in the public weal. 
 The cannon to the front !" 
 
 With look aghast. 
 Stood Commin speechless whilst the cannon past : 
 Then furious turning from the general's side, 
 Forth to the drawbridge did his charger guide. 
 E'en as he past the moat, fanatic cheers 
 Rose from the walls, and crashed upon his ears. 
 He sped him forth. But, louder in the sky, 
 Burst the fidl roar of the artillery ; 
 And every pause was marked by deafening sound, 
 Whei'e tower or bastion thundered to the ground : 
 Whilst still, at every rush of ruin, rose 
 The hymn of triumph from the exulting foes ; 
 Till, clearer swelled from all the enthusiast throng. 
 The chorus of destruction rolled along.
 
 224 THE CASTLE. 
 
 XXXI. 
 
 " Joy to the saints, and dominion on earth, 
 Triumph and joy to the saints of the Lord : 
 
 Theirs is the favour of God from their birth. 
 Theirs is the wrath of the two-edged sword. 
 
 Theirs are the fetters of iron, to bind ; 
 
 Theirs is the grace of the Gospel, to cheer ; 
 Arms of the mighty, to vanquish mankind ; 
 
 Scourge of the prophet, the temple to clear. 
 
 Bel boweth down from his turrcted place, 
 Nebo stoops low from idolatry's throne, 
 
 Dagon's tall image is hurled from its base, 
 Baal's high places are wasted and gone ! 
 
 Long may the daughters of Canaan wail. 
 Such is the fate that our mercies afford : 
 
 So let the armies of Israel prevail ! 
 
 So let Thine enemies perish, oh Lord !"
 
 PART FIRST. 
 
 ^I^C 3JCSUft. 
 
 Commin in the keeping of an appointment with Faithful Nap- 
 per is terrified by a shadow : by the assistance of his comrade 
 makes himself master of the reality, but is again disappointed. 
 
 Would it not vexe thee, where thy Syres did keepe 
 To see the dunged foldes of dag-tayld sheepe ? 
 And ruined house, where holy things were said. 
 Whose free stone walls the thatched roofe upbraid. 
 Whose shrill saint's-bell hangs on his loverie. 
 While the rest are damned to the plumbery ? 
 
 Bp. Hall's Satires, Book v. Satire i. 
 
 1 thought where all thy circling wiles would end ; 
 In feign'd religion, smooth hypocrisy ! 
 
 MiLTOK. Samson Agonistes, v. 871. 
 
 Affairs that walk. 
 As they say spirits do, at midnight, have 
 In them a wilder nature, than the business 
 That seeks despatch by day. 
 
 Shakspere. Henri/ VIII., Act v. So. 1. 
 
 Pleasant to the gazer's eye 
 Are the towers of other days, 
 In their ruined grandeui- left ;
 
 226 THE JESTTIT. 
 
 Though of all their pageantry, 
 All the boast of ancient praise, 
 All their gorgeous pomp bereft : 
 In their strength they stand sublime, 
 Strength that has outlasted time ; 
 
 When the ivy hangs in masses, 
 Like a clustering mantle thrown 
 Over parapet and fort ; 
 And the many-feathered grasses 
 Quiver o'er the moss-grown stone, 
 In the passages and court : 
 And the thorn and hazel grow, 
 Where the dry moat yawns below. 
 
 And it pleasant is to dwell, 
 
 Where above the distant woods 
 Their fantastic outlines rise ; 
 And I love their precincts well. 
 Love them for their solitudes, 
 
 Love them for thoir solemn dyes : 
 All too little think or care, 
 What has made them what they are. 
 
 Little do our minds recall, 
 
 When the iirst destruction broke 
 O'er the beautiful and strong ! 
 How the bleached uncovered wall. 
 Battered in Jind brown with smoke, 
 In gaunt ruin rested long ; 
 Frowning forth from year to year, 
 Barren, desolate, and drear !
 
 THE JESUIT. 227 
 
 Until time with reverend brow, 
 And a step of mournful grace, 
 On their desolation stealing, 
 Bade the kindred ivy grow 
 
 On the taU tower's blanching face, 
 All its harsher tints concealing. 
 Where the rudest shocks had been. 
 Weaving there its densest screen ; 
 Whilst its tenderest fibres stray 
 Over the gradual lines of natui-al decay. 
 
 II. 
 
 No softening change could time in pity bring 
 
 On Staunton's towers, since the exulting strain 
 Of her stern conquerors made the echoes ring ! 
 
 E'en as they fell, so do they yet remain. 
 Sad and deserted, with fire-blasted door. 
 
 Dismantled walls, and shattered battlement. 
 Whilst round their courts the invaders sit no more : 
 
 For tired with siege, with his success content, 
 
 To other wars his steps had Fairfax bent : 
 Enough that Staunton's days of pride are o'er, 
 
 Nor may the stream of violence prevent, 
 Powerless to brave the Commons' angry frown. 
 Powerless to bear aloft the standard of the Crown. 
 What though the stout walls stood, too firm and deep 
 
 For conqueror's guns to penetrate, or raze. 
 No more the ramparts of theh- faithful keep 
 
 Shall tower, the rebels' di-ead, the loyal's praise.
 
 228 THE JESUIT. 
 
 Shelter no more for good or ill they yield, 
 
 With open breach inhospitably bare ; 
 Save where the wildest prowlers of the field, 
 
 As years roll on, shall find their shelter there ; 
 Save where the wandering tenants of the sky 
 
 Shall in their loneliest heights lead forth their brood 
 And wheel around their nests with angry cry, 
 
 "When stranger's foot disturbs their solitude. 
 
 III. 
 
 All is deserted. Hold ! For even now 
 
 A figure through the portal arch is gone. 
 The moonbeams faintly roimd his footsteps throw 
 
 A lengthened shadow as he passes on. 
 Cautious he steps, with eye that wanders round 
 
 Through court and passage with suspicious dread 
 Frequent he pauses at the ci-uinbling sound 
 
 Of loosened mortar crushed beneath his tread. 
 A deeper shade some angled buttress throws ; 
 
 lie trembles ere his feet their task resume : 
 A narrow door the chapel's entrance shews, 
 
 lie listens, enters, and is lost in gloom. 
 Till up the now profaned, once holy place, 
 
 Spoiled and denuded of its marks divine. 
 Slowly he steals with au uneven j>ace, 
 
 And Conunin stands beside the altar-shrine. 
 
 IV. 
 
 Within had been sacrilege — sweeping, entire : 
 And rapid and sudden the ravage was dealt,
 
 THE JESUIT. 229 
 
 Though protected without from the enemies' fire, 
 
 Less marks of destruction that building had felt. 
 Yet it stood like a trunk stripped and bared with the blight, 
 
 With roofless and windowless chancel and aisle, 
 Whilst through rafters and mullions the winds of the night 
 
 Sighed low, as they swept through the desolate pUe. 
 'Twas a spot that the giiUty or timid might shun. 
 
 So mingled the sights and the fancies of dread, 
 For it seemed that the sound of the hollow wind's tone 
 
 Was a voice of complaint from the shelterless dead. 
 Such Commin, at least, were the visions that bound thee, 
 As closer thou wrappest thy mantle around thee. 
 And shiink'st at thy foot-fall, the silence that breaks, 
 And start'st at thy voice as it murmuring speaks. 
 
 " A dreary place of meeting ! and a time 
 Well suited to the place ! The castle's chime 
 Had tolled for midnight, had less zealous foes 
 Dealt with these walls ; but many a day must close, 
 Ere clock or cui'few warn trom yonder towers. 
 Or aught but bats and white owls scream the ho\irs. 
 If tales be true, in such deserted post 
 Had wailed the fiend, or walked the midnight ghost. 
 Mere idle legends ! yet had sober thought 
 Such station scarcely for our converse sought. 
 Though they, who credit to such stories give. 
 Must hold the dream that souls departed live. 
 Such faith I hold not ! such I may not hold : 
 Impostures, framed to fiU with sick man's gold
 
 230 THE JESUIT, 
 
 The coffers of the priest, that wealth may buy 
 
 The happiest spots in their futurity, 
 
 A\'hilst poorer dead for want of means alone 
 
 Must pine for ages amidst pains unknown. 
 
 Such would the^i teach, who in their office prate 
 
 Of fresh existence in some future state ; 
 
 Whose life on earth, whose creed, whose acts, deny 
 
 Their own belief in their dull forgery. 
 
 Without, all fast and penance ; and within, 
 
 Indulgence and excuse for every sin. 
 
 Can it be wondered, if the wise distrust 
 
 Such teachers' faith, and hardened with disgust. 
 
 Choose rather to deny a world unseen. 
 
 Than to believe, and be — what these have been ? 
 
 Where, if there be indeed a heaven or hell, 
 
 Would half the soldier-priest's disciples dwell, 
 
 My youth's instructors and my manhood's guide' ?"- 
 
 And, as he spoke, the strong man turned aside. 
 
 And shook, as thougli he feared the listening air 
 
 Might through the night the irreverent accents bear. 
 
 Such power had early habit to control 
 
 The unbeliever's half-untutored soul : 
 
 Thus awed and schooled, reluctant, yet afraid, 
 
 lie doubted, mocked, resisted, — and obeyed. 
 
 VI. 
 
 The time crept on : and, slowly as it crept, 
 Still at his post the imi)atient soldier kept : 
 Till in another theme his musings ran, 
 And murmuring to himself he thus began. 
 
 • Hrc noil' A lit tilt' riic! dT I'liiito.
 
 THE JESUIT. 231 
 
 " Why tames Napper 1 has some fresh deceit 
 
 Of that arch-fox allitred my willing feet 
 
 To keep such vague appointment 1 Yet the bait 
 
 Was all too tempting, and 'tis good to wait : 
 
 He may indeed possess the only clue 
 
 To crown my wishes, if his tale be true. 
 
 If it be true ! ' She lives and may be found,' 
 
 Such was his summons ; and he named the ground 
 
 And place of meeting. Yet I watch in vain. 
 
 What had I looked for 1 but my eager brain, 
 
 Fired with the hope, despised the rules of thought, 
 
 That had maturer judgment's guidance brought. - 
 
 How can she live ? When that tempestuous night, 
 
 That aided the malignants' desperate flight. 
 
 Had dealt her death-stroke had she vent\ired forth ? 
 
 No, not for all his land's and castle's worth, 
 
 Had Staunton trusted that young cherish'd form, 
 
 To the rude beating of a midnight storm. 
 
 True was the tale they told, in that dread hour 
 
 When Fairfax questioned. ' Gone beyond your power.' 
 
 Significant the tears, when Fairfax said 
 
 ' Gone, whither went she 1 ' ' Wouldst thou wake the dead V 
 
 Napper, thy words are false. She may not live ! 
 
 But, if aught pure can an hereafter give, 
 
 Have spirits once departed power to stir, 
 
 Marion might here confront her murderer !" 
 
 VIL 
 
 The lonely scene gave tone to his remorse, 
 And fancies filled his breast with doubled force
 
 232 THE JESUIT, 
 
 And, half in fear, half sorrow, Commin stands 
 And hides his visage in his trembling hands. 
 In shade he stands, where high above 
 
 The chancel rafters rise : 
 He starts : for something seems to move 
 In distance ! from his thoughts he strove 
 To banish terror, sorrow, love, 
 
 And anxious raised his eyes. 
 
 VIII. 
 
 Is it fancy that he seeth, there beside the eastern shrine, 
 Where upon the ruined altar faint and pale the moonbeams 
 
 shine, 
 Marion's figure thin and pallid, loosely ^vrapt in robe of white, 
 Slowly rising from the pavement up into the ghastly light : 
 \\'ith her eyes once bright and happy, now so glassy, cold, and 
 
 dim. 
 Seemed as though from out the darkness all their gaze was 
 
 fixed on him. 
 Fixedly and firmly centred, so he deemed those features grew, 
 As along the aisle advancing near his post the figure drew. 
 Now so near, she almost touched him, for she held her slender 
 
 arm. 
 Ever feeling on before her. Chilled and senseless Avith alarm. 
 For the cold hard heart within him could sustain his part no 
 
 more, 
 Commin sprung from his concealment, sprung and flung him 
 
 to the door, 
 lie the soldier, he the sceptic, whom God's faith could not 
 
 control, 
 Van<iuishud by a vulgar fancy preying on a guilty soul.
 
 THE JESUIT, 233 
 
 Something from the chancel sounded, like a wild shiiek in 
 
 his ear, 
 But he only fled the faster in the tumult of his fear. 
 TiU from forth the chapel speeding he has gained the outer 
 
 court 
 Where beside a shattered archway pale he rested for support ; 
 And again had started forward, scarce held back by sense of 
 
 shame. 
 When the sounds of coming footsteps through the entrance 
 
 portal came. 
 
 IX. 
 
 No spirit this ! 'Tis Napper's form at last, 
 
 And Commin stayed him as he inward past. 
 
 His agitated form his friend surveyed 
 
 And haggard countenance, and mocking said : 
 
 " Commin, why absent from the appointed post ? 
 
 Can Stavmtou's chapel wandering spectres boast ] 
 
 'Tis somewhat early — every gi-andam knows 
 
 That spirits slumber till the ivy gi'ows ; 
 
 Spirits of taste, that doat on ruins grey, 
 
 Will scorn the vulgar wrecks of yesterday. 
 
 The cold ? thou mutterest ! Nay, the midnight air 
 
 Not thus has blanched thy cheek, nor raised thy hair. 
 
 With me return, nor doubt our power to quell 
 
 Worse goblins than in Staunton's chapel dwell ! 
 
 Thou wilt not ?" 
 
 (For he marked from nerves unstrung 
 The faint denial hang on Commin's tongue)
 
 234 TUE JESUIT. 
 
 "Perchance thou dar'st not : but, it matters not, 
 
 Our converse brief demands no fitter spot. 
 
 Than these old courts, where less protracted stay 
 
 Must make atonement for our first delay. 
 
 Behold this order ! on your faith and mine 
 
 It claims full weight, and wears the sacred sign. 
 
 The power, we wot of, has recalled us both. 
 
 And in good time, methinks ; for, nothing loath, 
 
 Will Commin leave behind this castle drear, 
 
 Or Napper quit the charge of Staunton Vere. 
 
 Our work has prospered well ! A ruin stands. 
 
 Where Staunton stood. (Nay, clench not thus thy hands, 
 
 Nor bend thy brow !) Thus pleased it in their sight, 
 
 Whose power thou drcadest, if thou doul)t'st their right. 
 
 It was not well, they deemed, that one should rise 
 
 Thus independent of their orders' ties ; 
 
 Therefore thy wishes failed : thy work was done. 
 
 In this waste ruin that we look upon. 
 
 " And have I left less ruin in my road. 
 
 In Staunton's <iuict street and house of God ? 
 
 The troops of Fairfax have our place supplied, 
 
 And left a festering sore in Phighind's side. 
 
 A soldier-preacher raves witliin the shrine, 
 
 And all my hearers think his rant divine. 
 
 1'hanks to our teacliing ! every sect and creed, 
 
 As fancy alters, may in turns succeed. 
 
 The liberal flock accept of l)lack or white. 
 
 Nor dare to blame the wrong or choose the right.
 
 THE JESUIT. 235 
 
 Content with itching ears, from week to week, 
 Amusement's not instruction's voice to seek. 
 Ranter and Quaker, Muggleton and Brown", 
 Yea, all but England's Church, they swallow down. 
 Till, sick with change, the ebbing tide shall go 
 More fiercely backward, from its rushing flow, 
 And harassed Christians shall disgusted come 
 Back to their mother's breast <=, and rest at — home." 
 
 XI. 
 
 " Napper, forbear !" recovering from his fears, 
 
 Thus Commin answered ; " into heedless ears 
 
 These words are dropped : you hold your purpose fast, 
 
 Your order or yourself (perchance the last) 
 
 To aggrandize ; and to that piu-pose true. 
 
 With every act and scheme your path pursue. 
 
 Mine own is private interest : such as calls 
 
 For faithful answer, why within these walls 
 
 Thus have we met 1 and wherefore the delay 
 
 That yet may hold us till the dawning day 1 
 
 And where thy promise ?" 
 
 " This shall Napper shew, 
 When time more fitting serves the truth to know. 
 For my delay, — ejected from my cure, 
 'Twere needful many a parchment to secure ; 
 Which, had they met the view of curious eyes, 
 Had more than half revealed our mysteries. 
 Thus past the hours unnoted ; on the hearth 
 A heap of ashes hides some secrets, worth 
 
 b c Ste notes B C at tht- end of cauto.
 
 236 THE JESUIT. 
 
 A Churchman's knowing. For the few the rest, 
 Such as I might, I bear within my breast 
 Easily carried on my townward way. 
 Thence I return not. Thus for my delay 
 Need claims excuse. To the next question I 
 In the same purport of my scroll reply, 
 She lives and may he found. Thou art not nice 
 Nor wilt refuse my information's price." 
 
 XII. 
 
 " Lives V Commin shuddering uttered : " lives she then 
 
 A spirit, not as child of mortal men. 
 
 Napper, I know thy scornful tone of old ; 
 
 Yet must my legend of this night be told. 
 
 Briefly and calmly ; mark, I bear no jest, 
 
 Or mocking language. Let the subject rest. 
 
 I waited fur your stay, till on my frame 
 
 Cold tremblings, on my heart sad musings came ! 
 
 The lonely scene, the solitary hour, 
 
 Had doubtless influenced my fancy's power. 
 
 Yet — but why trifle ? some remembrance Ijrought 
 
 The maiden Marion to my wandering thought. 
 
 I thought of her, as dead ; if dead indeed. 
 
 Slain through tny jjnicticc ! Napper, take good heed ; 
 
 Smile, and I strike thee underneath my feet. 
 
 (And — and — ccusc — cease, thou throbbiug heart to beat I) 
 
 And in yon chapel with my waking eyes 
 
 I saw the 8])irit of that Marion rise." 
 
 Connnin had nerved his soul to tell the tale, 
 
 Then crossed his ann.s, aud stood, erect and pale ;
 
 THE JESUIT, 237 
 
 Whilst upon Napper's face he fiercely glared, 
 As though suspicion to his words he dared. 
 " I saw her, Napper, rise before my face, 
 Thin, pale, and ghastly, in that horrid place, 
 As surely as my soul, cut off from grace. 
 If soul or grace there be, shall yet be hurled 
 To endless tortures in a future world." 
 
 XIII. 
 
 The smile of sconi, that first began to play 
 On Napper's lip, died suddenly away. 
 Soothing his tones, his accents calm and grave, 
 As thus the wary friend his answer gave. 
 " Commin, I trifle not ! She, thou hast seen, 
 (Nay, look not on me with that furious mien) 
 Was Marion's living form. Behold I shew 
 Unasked the secret, that thou long'st to know. 
 Much doubt was mine, when of the sire and maid 
 Imperfect rumours the decease conveyed. 
 Such fate were strange, nor from distress of food 
 Whilst men subsisted and the castle stood. 
 Nay, rather, had I counted on her flight 
 By means less desperate in less stormy night. 
 Rather, (and thus have late events revealed,) 
 Withru these ruins have they lurked concealed, 
 Waiting what time, from Fairfax' army freed, 
 The royal troops might to their rescue speed." 
 
 XIV. 
 
 " Nay, you forget !" the wondering mate returned, 
 " All thoughts of truce the staunch defenders spumed,
 
 238 THE JESUIT. 
 
 Whilst food remained ; in such bare quarters left, 
 The pair had perished, of supply bereft." 
 
 " Not thus it follows : that, which truth might say 
 Would barely last the leaguered tower a day, 
 For many a long protracted week might feed 
 Two prisoners frugal in their peril's need. 
 Such need was theirs : the father doomed to die, 
 The daughter feeble and vmfit to fly. 
 'Twas all too plain : but further proof appeared, 
 AN hich hath from every doubt the secret cleared. 
 A wandering peasant, who had ventured here 
 In search of spoil, returned in abject fear 
 To tell his visions to his pastor's ear. 
 The apparition I need scarce recite : 
 Commin may fancy pallid maids in white. 
 I made my dreamer swear to breathe no sound 
 Of fiends' delusion : came myself, and found 
 The traces that I sought. A faithless stone, 
 Set in a pillar, made the secret known. 
 I watched till midnight ; and, concealed in shade, 
 Saw from the shaft appear the missing maid, 
 llcr father's arms her wasted form sustain : 
 They came for purer air ; — and — all was plain. 
 Such are my tidings. Therefore have we met ; 
 Nor much, I deem, will Commin now regret 
 The alarm that waited on the transient view. 
 Whose recent witness proves my story true. 
 Soon will we try that proof with nearer eyes, 
 And then at will divide the caj)tive prize. 
 Content with Morley, my peculiar sliaro, 
 To thee the iiiuid 1 leave, to win and wear !"
 
 THE JESUIT. 239 
 
 XV. 
 
 " Thy terms declare ! for such, as thou, I know 
 Do nought for nought : thy secret's value shew !" 
 
 " Of that hereafter, more I ask not now, 
 But thy allegiance to thy slighted vow ; 
 And to believe, that thy mistrusted friends, 
 Where we have thwarted, know to make amends : 
 By turns our lenity and justice prove, 
 And wink at failings in the man we love. 
 Proceed we in our search." He spoke and led, 
 And Commin followed with uncertain tread. 
 
 XVI. 
 
 All was true that Napper taught him, when on that eventful 
 
 day, 
 Crushed by Fairfax' stem conditions hope's last whisper died 
 
 away. 
 To preserve the lives they valued from th' invaders' bloody 
 
 hand. 
 Many a scheme of skill and daring those devoted champions 
 
 planned. 
 As they planned them, so they prospered ; shrouded in the 
 
 storms of night, 
 Reginald with twenty followers safely sped their secret flight ; 
 And a pillar's hollowed cavern '^, that iu Home's deceitful pride 
 Iliding place for monkish mummeries round some idol shrine 
 
 supplied, 
 
 d See note D at the eud of cauto.
 
 240 THE JESUIT. 
 
 All without from view protected, and with full provision stored, 
 For the feebler sire and daughter hiding place must close afford. 
 Much I ween the strife of feeling, all to peril, all to save ; 
 Little was the choice of danger, that their hour of trouble gave : 
 But they deemed that Fairfax' army might not there their 
 
 time consume, 
 And they trusted for the loyal yet a happier hoiu- might come ; 
 And to God did they entrust them, blest with many a tear and 
 
 prayer, 
 That the strong might 'scape successful, and the feebler shelter 
 
 there. 
 But, alas ! no more of shelter to their need that cleft may 
 
 yield ; 
 Like a setter on a covey creeping o'er the stubble field. 
 Like a tiger in the jungle, crouched and crawling on the 
 
 ground. 
 Till the simple fawn has strayed within the circle of his bound, 
 iSo along the court proceeding with slow step and eager eyes 
 Forward sped the wily comrades creeping cat-like on their 
 
 prize ; 
 Till they reached the chapel entrance, there within a secret 
 
 nook, 
 With a cautious sign and whisper his position Napper took : 
 And with hat pressed o'er his forehead, and his mantle from 
 
 him cast, 
 With a swift and noiseless movement Commin through the 
 
 l)uilding [>ast. 
 
 xvn. 
 
 Have the monks with secret springs 
 Hid their juggling art from view 1
 
 THE JESTTIT. 241 
 
 Are the jointed fastenings 
 
 Closely knit compact and true ? 
 Is it sleight of cunning -WTist 
 
 That the passage must disclose 1 
 Shall the entrance finn resist 
 
 Wrenching steel or forcing blows 1 
 Such the thoughts impatience gave 
 
 To the enquker's restless brain, 
 As along the chapel nave 
 
 Commin sped his steps again. 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 Yes, close were the jointings as art might allow, 
 
 And firm were the springs and the fastenings below ; 
 
 But there needed no counsel, or prudent or long. 
 
 Or the skiU of the wise, or the force of the strong. 
 
 The cleft of the pillar was opened and wide. 
 
 Whilst kneeling unconscious of all by its side. 
 
 Unconscious of all but the burden he held, 
 
 In the light of the moonlieams is 3Iorley revealed. 
 
 His arms the pale figure of Marion enfold. 
 
 In her deep swoon all senseless and pallid and cold. 
 
 Whilst the blood from her temples slow trickled, supplied 
 
 By her wound, as she fell, when her feet had denied 
 
 In the speed of her terror her form to sustain. 
 
 With shuddering of body and reeling of brain : 
 
 As with mutual disti-action from Commin she fled. 
 
 The maid from the living, the man from the dead. 
 
 R
 
 242 THE JESUIT. 
 
 XIX. 
 
 little then is Morley's care, 
 
 If sought by foes or friends ; 
 When, as her loud shriek rent the air, 
 Forth springs he from his secret lair, 
 And o'er his child in mute despair 
 
 Of agony he bends : 
 And strives to staunch the trickling gore, 
 To chafe the cold hands o'er and o'er, 
 
 The flickering pulse to trace ; 
 Nor spares from out their scanty store 
 The water's precious tide to pour 
 
 On the unconscious face. 
 Nor heeds he aught of watchers near, 
 
 Of refuge left revealed ; 
 No subject, to the eye or ear, 
 Of future danger, present fear, 
 
 The entranced senses yield. 
 But her, who pale l)eforc him lies ; 
 Till by degrees, with long-drawn sighs 
 Iler blank and reason-lacking eyes 
 Bright with returning memories, 
 
 Their blue-veined lids unsealed : 
 And faintly raised her languid head. 
 
 And stiiTed her rigid form. 
 And tinted was her cheek with red. 
 
 Her skin grew moist and warm. 
 Then to his heart his child he caught 
 With fond caress : with startled thought 
 Their all-forgotten refuge sought, 
 
 And to the entrance cumo,
 
 THE JESUIT. 243 
 
 When on his arm a hand was laid, 
 And in his ear a deep voice said, 
 " Stand, in the Commons' name !" 
 
 XX. 
 
 Oh fieud ! in such an houi- as this, 
 
 To strike thy blow, when thought of bliss 
 
 From danger's fresh escape was bright ; 
 
 As setting sun's emerging light, 
 
 Out of some black black western cloud, 
 
 Seems brighter for its inky shroud. 
 
 fiend ! to strike, her face before, 
 
 \\'hom thou professest to adore, 
 
 \Mth what thou callest love ! To know. 
 
 E'en when thou smitest, that the blow, 
 
 Thus evil timed, shall bear a smart 
 
 Of keener misery to her heart ! 
 
 And thine — For Oh is all forgot, 
 
 Thy late remorse in this lone spot. 
 
 That now, because thou see'st thy crime 
 
 Yet incomplete, (which, at that time 
 
 Thou wouldst with many prayers have won 
 
 Back from the past, to feel undone,) 
 
 That now thou seekest to renew 
 
 Thy crime, remorse, and misery too ! 
 
 fiend ! and yet, the cause to scan, 
 
 How feeble is the mind of man, 
 
 \\ ho scorning strength superior leans 
 
 On human powers ; and, when he means 
 
 To do the right, has that within 
 
 Superior, which inclines to sin,
 
 244 THE jEsuir. 
 
 And must be met, where it assails, 
 By grace celestial, or prevails I 
 Woe unto those, who yield it course. 
 Brief pleasure theirs and long remorse ' 
 
 XXI. 
 
 But remorse in Commin's mind, 
 
 Faint and weak, has died away ; 
 Passions, of more savage kind. 
 
 Madly now assert their sway. 
 Morley, starting at the word, 
 
 From his charge his glances raised ; 
 Scarce helieved the sound he heard ; 
 
 But, as closer yet he gazed, 
 Wcll*^ the insulter of his child 
 
 In the intruder's form he knew, 
 And a presage, sad and wild, 
 
 From the past his fancy drew. 
 Thoughtful now of her alone. 
 
 Sternly to his feet he Icapf, 
 And with arms al>uut him thrown 
 
 There the ca[>turer captive kejit. 
 Yet not long he held him there, 
 
 Nor that struggle lasted long, 
 Fiercer than ti>e sire's despair, 
 
 Commin's wrath )>lazed fierce and strong. 
 Brief the movement his, to feel 
 
 For his dagger's point, and guide 
 
 •■ Hoc I'linlo I. jinrt II. Hianza xxi.
 
 THE JESUIT. 245 
 
 ^Vith rude shock the plunging steel 
 
 Deep into the pastor's side. 
 Brief the movement his, to spring 
 
 Where the fainting Marion lay, 
 Round her form his arms to fling, 
 
 And exulting burst away. 
 Now he gains the chapel door : 
 
 Vainly shouts : he looks in vain : 
 Where is Napper I there no more ! 
 
 Through the shade his glances strain 
 Something moves the pass within : 
 Hark ! at once a sudden din 
 
 Of many feet his soul alarms ; 
 Many figiu-es meet his ken ; 
 
 All the passage rings with arms ; 
 All the chapel fills with men. 
 Good the time and good the speed ; 
 Faithful at extremest need, 
 To thy waste and ruined home, 
 Reginald Vere, thy succom-s come.
 
 NOTES TO CANTO VI. PART I. 
 
 Note A, p. 230. 
 
 " There were in fact disguised priests both in the king's array and 
 in the troops of the parliament. Bishop Bramhall in his letter to 
 Archbishop Usher mentions 100 men going over, by order of liome, 
 into England in 104i), who most of them became soldiers in the 
 parliament's array, and were daily to correspond with the Romanists 
 in the king's army." — Dr. Parr's life of Archbishop Usher. 
 
 " Mention is made of one in particular, Ramsey by name, who 
 nerved in Cromwell's array under the title of Captain Wright, and 
 was discovered by his own father, and hnng by Cromwell's orders."' — 
 Foxes and Firebrands, part ii. p. 91. 
 
 Note B, p. 235. 
 
 "I have been credibly informed," says Robert Ware, "that a St. 
 Omers JcNoit declared that they were twenty years hammering out 
 the sect of the Quakers." — Foxes and Firebrands, part i. p. 7. 
 
 The sect of the Muggletonians is somewhat anticipated. Tlir 
 foonder was at this time between thirty and forty years old, but his 
 opinions did not come into general notice until about the year 16.S0. 
 Bee bUo Appendix. 
 
 Note C, p. 235. 
 
 " This we have certified to the council and cardinals, that there is 
 no way to prevent people from turning heretics, and for recalling 
 iithcrs back again to the mother ('hurch, than by the diversities of 
 doctrines. We all wish you to prosjier. — Madrid, October 2fi, 156H. 
 Ham. Malt." Conclusion of the letter from a Spanish .Jesuit to Hetli 
 the supposed Puritan. " Hcth had been appointed to preach in the 
 Ciithedral Church in Rochester, and preached violently, bringing the 
 prayers of the Church into contempt. But so it happened, that while 
 ho won preaching, casually by pulling out his hamlkerchicf, a lettt-r 
 dropt into the li<illom of the pulpit, directed to him by the name ol 
 Thomoa Finne, from one Samuel Malt, a notorious Knglish Jesuit 
 then at Madrid, In Spain." — Foxrs and Firebrands, part i. pp. 32. SO.
 
 NOTES. 247 
 
 Note D, p. 239. 
 
 At the siege of Pontefract, a somewhat similar mode of escape 
 was resorted to with success by the Loyalists. Lambert having 
 offered terms to all of the garrison with the exception of six, four 
 of these contrived to escape by sallies, the other two found a con- 
 venient place in the castle, (the buildings of which were large and 
 s-pacions,) where their friends walled them up in such a manner that 
 they had air to sustain them, and victual enough to feed them for a 
 month. When Lambert took possession of the castle, he dismantled 
 it, that there should be no more use of it for a garrison, leaving the 
 • vast ruins still standing, and drew off all his troops to new quarters; 
 so that within ten days after the surrender, the two who were left 
 walled up, threw down their enclosure, and securely provided for 
 themselves. — Clarendon, vol. iii. p. 290, 291 .
 
 or an to ^ixtf). 
 
 PABT SECOND. 
 
 Kapper finds the conntcl'wn wilh Commiii likely to prove incon- 
 venient, and endeavours to dissolve it. Commin in revenge be- 
 trays the great secret. The conclusion. 
 
 And couldst thou Faithful add ? O name, 
 
 O sacred name of faithfulness profaned ! 
 Faithful to whom ? to thy rebellious crew ? 
 Army of ficndti, fit body to fit head. 
 Was this your discipliiio and faith engaged, 
 Your military obedience, to dissolve 
 Allegiance to th'acknowlcdg'd Power supreme? 
 
 Milton's Par. Lost, b. iv. ver. 951—957. 
 
 Next stood Hypocrisy with holy leer 
 Soft smiling, and doniuri'ly looking down. 
 But hid the dagger underneath the gown. 
 
 Duyde.n's Palamon and Arcite. 
 
 I. 
 
 To plan, to fail, what is it but the lot 
 Of all who iu this world of trial dwell ? 
 
 ForfkiKjwn tu all, but iIkjsc who have forgot 
 Of human thing.s the nature frangible :
 
 THE JESUIT. 
 
 249 
 
 How every passing minute rings the knell 
 Of some departed hope, which at its birth 
 
 Was clothed with fancy's brightest happiest spell, 
 And followed with a zeal beyond its worth. 
 Then seen to fade away with all that fades on earth 
 
 Such is the fate of schemes, whose earthly part 
 
 Shuts out from man the prospect of the skies ; 
 And e'en to those, which some more gracious heart 
 
 To purer thoughts and heavenlier hopes allies, 
 
 Even to those the counsel of the AUvvise, 
 When most they flourish in their glowing day, 
 
 The last fulfilment to then- faith denies ; 
 Lest aught of human plans might learn to say 
 „ Though to man's nature linked, we share not man's 
 
 decay." 
 ^Mth pain the Chi-istian sees such visions fade, 
 
 Yet to his grief the soothing comfort lends, 
 That He, to advance whose work such plans were laid, 
 
 Accepts man's wish, but needeth not man's ends. 
 
 But, oh ! how sad such recollection blends 
 With unsuccess in him, whose impious will 
 
 Hath plann'd in vain, yet on whose plans attends 
 Judgment for what his power could not fulfil. 
 For ill intent condemned, as for the act of iU ! 
 
 II. 
 
 Such, Commin, was thy fate, whose hopes were crushed 
 E'en at the verge of thine accomplished cr ime, 
 
 When on thy flight the royal troopers rushed, 
 Prompt to retrieve the lagging hours of time,
 
 250 THE JESUIT. 
 
 That almost cost the lives they came to save ; 
 
 Whilst far before them sprang their youthful lord, 
 To Marion's form one look of horror gave, 
 
 Then rapid and concise his orders poured, 
 " To seize the felon soldier and disarm ; 
 
 To bear the maiden from the scene a-svay ; 
 To raise the pastor, where, with life yet warm, 
 
 Senseless and bleeding on the ground he lay ; 
 To lodge them both, where eye of heedful friend 
 
 Over the peril of their life might watch ; 
 Where careful leeches on their couch might teml 
 
 Recovery's nicest change with skill to catch :" 
 Then with brief pause, " Bring forth the man," he said, 
 
 " Whose clamour stayed us, as we passed within : 
 Foe or associate, be he hither led ; 
 
 Whether with counterfeit of empty din 
 He would mislead, or in true teiTor fled, 
 
 And would avert this night's atrocious sin." 
 Sternly he spoke : and forth at his command, 
 By troopers'guarded close on either hand, 
 A shrouded prisoner walks the space between, 
 And Faithful Nappcr joins the crowded scene. 
 " Withdraw your hands ; confront them face to face ! 
 But, by the cause I honour, if a trace 
 Of recognition proves their previous tie, 
 Alike the assassin and his partner die." 
 
 III. 
 
 In vain they wiitohed : a cold and sullen glance 
 Bent Coiniiiin on the Rcetor's countenance, 
 As on a stninger ; then his eyes withdrew. 
 His arms lie crossed, and to a statue grew.
 
 THE JESUIT. 251 
 
 On Napper's gaze such signs indignant wait, 
 As good men shew who see the thing they hate, 
 Whose curling nostril and uplifted eyes 
 The weak and wicked of the world despise. 
 Calmly his looks he turned from side to side. 
 And thus in tones of injured virtue cried. 
 
 IV. 
 
 " What evil spmt, friends, corrupt and blind, 
 Hath dimmed your vision and disturbed yom- mind, 
 That thus confused, as in disordered dream, 
 'Twixt grace and sin such faint distinctions gleam ? 
 What part or lot have I, whose quiet life. 
 Given to the Lord, abhors the name of strife, 
 With one, who, if his outward signs speak sooth, 
 A man of war hath wrestled from his youth. 
 Nor taught perchance by inward light to guide 
 His carnal weapons to the godly side 1 
 Whilst I—" 
 
 V. 
 
 But Reginald struck impatient in : 
 " For * godly' ears reserve thy senseless din ! 
 Briefly thy title and thy calling name." 
 " Alas !" he cried, " alas for earthly fame ! 
 A life-time spent in gospel strife alone 
 The soldier wears, but leaves his name unknown, 
 AVhilst carnal battles, when their toil is o'er, 
 For carnal warriors sound the trump before ! 
 So let it be ! so let the difference lie 
 'Twixt siimer's praise and saint's humility !
 
 252 THE JESUIT. 
 
 They call me ' Napper.' ' Faithful' to the sound 
 The brethren add. May I be faithful found 
 In reckoning's hour!" 
 
 But, as the word he spoke, 
 A sudden light on Reginald's spirit broke : 
 " The priest of Compton once, of Staunton Vere 
 More recently ?" he asked. 
 
 " It seems not clear 
 To jealous minds, in Scripture language read," 
 With solemn emphasis the Rector said, 
 " How far my calling such a name befits : 
 Deacon and priest may suit the worldly wits 
 Of those from Romish fetters scarcely freed : 
 But we, enlightened by a stricter creed 
 To purify and cleanse — " 
 
 VI. 
 
 " Once more take heed ! 
 Brief space for doctrine does the hour supply : 
 To simple question simply make reply. 
 Speak of what order "^ ?" 
 
 "Christ's." — 
 
 " Its nature say ?'"- 
 "To preach IIis Gospel and His name display." — 
 " Bound by what laws 1 to what superior tied ?" — 
 " Clu-ist and His saints : we own no meaner gnidc."- 
 " Dost thou no power on earth acknowledge 1" — 
 
 "Yea 
 We the Church Catholic on earth obey." — 
 "Call'st thou obedience this thy base design 
 To Jireak the unity her laws enjoin ?" — 
 
 * Soe notv A at th» end of canto.
 
 THE JESUIT. 253 
 
 " We break no unity. Those laws we hate, 
 And would reform, refine, and elevate ; 
 (This our assembly of divines profess) 
 Would strip her service of its popish dress, 
 Would judge with them that anti-christian yoke 
 Of ceremonial law be crushed and broke ^ ; 
 Would lordly prelates from her ranks remove, 
 And leave all equal in a house of love." — 
 
 VII. 
 
 " Reserve thy railing ! there are those around, 
 Whose brows grow dark at such irreverent sound ; 
 Taught to revere in life, and hold in death. 
 The Apostles' order with the Apostles' faith." — 
 " Then will I fearless lift my voice aloud 
 Against these figments of the vain and proud. 
 ' Let no man call you master !' " — 
 
 " Sir, forbear ! 
 For graver questions all your learning spare. 
 Why seeks the priest, or preacher if thou wilt, 
 
 Of Staunton Vere these ruins of my home, 
 Witness perchance of blood already spilt. 
 
 Abettor of worse outrage yet to come 1 
 We make not martyrs like thy murderous sect. 
 
 Nor for fanatic fancies rashly doom ; 
 But thou, if rightly we thy crimes suspect, 
 
 Mayst judgment meet instead of martyrdom. 
 Already thou hast mocked us. Not unknown 
 Is the connection, that thy words disown '', 
 With this foul murderer ; nor thine early part, 
 Which most has wronged my name, and wrung my heart. 
 
 * c See notes B C at the end of canto.
 
 254 THE JESUIT. 
 
 Yet not for this, I ween, my private wrong, 
 
 From treacherous counsel and deceitful tongue, 
 
 Speak I his doom of death beyond recall. 
 
 Nor Hopton's wound, nor noble Greenvil's fall : 
 
 (Raise not thy hands astonished at the tale, 
 
 Where lights suspicion, outward actions fail 
 
 To clear the accused !) For this night's outrage shewn 
 
 He dies the death : and shall he fall alone ? 
 
 The charge disprove ! or hear our fixed award ! 
 
 Thy self-claimed order saves not from the cord." 
 
 VIII. 
 
 Resolved he spoke : the sentence Commin heard ; 
 
 A strong contortion all his features stirred. 
 
 Ilis head was sunk ; but from his lifted brows 
 
 A stealthy glance on Napper's form he throws, 
 
 With strange expression. ^^ Not alone .'" the thought 
 
 Passed not his lips, nor tell-tale utterance brought. 
 
 Still as a bird of prey upon the wing, 
 
 Still as the ounce who marks his time to spring, 
 
 Silent and still, as Reginald's sentence closed, 
 
 With folded arms the soldier stood composed. 
 
 " Speak !" Reginald questioned : " hast thou aught to 
 
 plead ? 
 Nor spare thy cunning in thine utmost need. 
 In this night's acts disi)rove thy guilty share. 
 And shun the fate thy comrade's limits shall bear !" 
 Again that stiant^c glance shot from Commin's eye, 
 Again that thought ! but Napper made reply : 
 Failed had his craft to turn the youth aside 
 From his fixed purpose. Subtler arts he tried.
 
 THE JESUIT. 255 
 
 Great was his peril, but his mind was strong. 
 With such calm phrases, as to truth belong, 
 Omitted each fanatic term or sense, 
 That might to nicer judgments yield offence ; 
 His cause he pleaded with a placid mien, 
 Gravely severe, yet virtuously serene. 
 
 IX. 
 
 " Reginald Vere, the world proclaims thee just ; 
 
 Firm to thine own, opposed to others' creeds : 
 Yet may our brethren in thy candour trust, 
 
 ]\Iore than in theirs, who use us for their needs, 
 And much of love and sympathy profess, 
 
 Little of difference in our tenets own. 
 Yet not the less they hate, nor fail the less 
 
 To cast us over when their work is done. 
 In thee an open honourable foe 
 
 In all thy actions have the godly proved : 
 Nor have thy worst opponents cause to shew, 
 
 That thou hast injured where thou hast not loved. 
 To thee I plead for life ! content to say 
 
 Our creeds are different, different is the part, 
 We take in these sad wars ; nor of the way 
 
 So much I reckon, if sincere the heart. 
 Thou shak'st thy head impatiently : yet give 
 
 Some licence yet, to prove my motives pure ! 
 To him I speak, by whom I die or live, 
 
 And would the favour of my judge secure.
 
 256 THE JESUIT. 
 
 X. 
 
 " I held, as right thou judgest, Staunton Vere, 
 
 But hold no more : ejected from my place 
 By Fairfax' soldier preachers, am I here 
 
 In jeopardy, in -svant, and in disgrace. 
 If I deceive thee, (and an hour may shew 
 
 My truth or fiilschood,) let thy wrath descend ! 
 Justly condemned, I shrink not from the blow ; 
 
 Yet by the faith and cause, thy arms defend, 
 Let not thy prejudice the cause decide, 
 
 But to thine open foe in doctrine, yield 
 Such fair conclusion, as thy course would guide 
 
 To combatant professed in foughten field." 
 
 Well had he framed his speech for gcncroxis ears. 
 And well their weight in Reginald's words appears. 
 " As such wc grant you hearing ! But too long 
 
 In idle preface from your point you stray : 
 We will not, trust me, do the guiltless wrong 
 
 To win the advantage of an hour's delay. 
 Prove but thy ])urpose in these ruins bare. 
 
 And for past outrage shall one death atone." 
 Again from Commin's eye shot angry glare. 
 
 Again the deep thought prompted, "Not alone.'''' 
 
 XI. 
 
 Nappor continued calmly, " I have said, 
 l)isgrace and fear of death my feet have led 
 To this retreat. Who in my cure succeed, 
 No orders recognise, profess no creed :
 
 THE JESUIT. 267 
 
 Opposed alike to yours, and, to be bold. 
 Mine, which would purify the faith you hold. 
 I sought these walls for shelter, and within 
 Found this, my comrade late, till daring sin, 
 Proof of a mind impure, had burst the tie 
 Which once was ours, — nor I the truth deny. 
 
 Not by our will we met. The cause I found, 
 That lured his steps to this deserted ground. 
 Was base revenge and lust. I sought in vain, 
 Friends now no more, his passions to restrain : 
 Pleaded, admonished, argued, threatened, wept ; 
 Unmoved by all, his purpose foul he kept, 
 And searched unheeding : found the prize he sought : 
 I struggled with him ; but my strength was nought. 
 Against his practised arm's superior force, 
 And, struck with horror, for a last resource, 
 In slender hope of help, I rushed without ; 
 .And all may witness, how my warning shout 
 With eager summons hailed your welcome aid, 
 Though for my zeal suspected prisoner made. 
 Such is my tale unvarnished : if thou will, 
 Kill on the spot, for thou hast power to kill. 
 But not for crimes like his ; but that thy wrath 
 May sweep thy faith's opponent from thy path. 
 That crime confessed, with this do I disclaim 
 Alike the guilt, the punishment, and shame." — 
 
 XIL 
 
 'Twere hard in measured strains to trace 
 The emotions fierce of Commin's face, 
 
 s
 
 258 the' JESUIT. 
 
 With smooth address and humble tone 
 As Napper's artful speech went on. 
 ^\'ithering contempt and scorn were there, 
 And mute amazement's glassy stare, 
 And pallid terror's blanching cheek, 
 And indignation's varying streak ; 
 Till gathering thick with purple red, 
 
 Wrath unrestrained its passage found. 
 And o'er his swellmg forehead spread, 
 
 And every meaner passion drowned. 
 His grating teeth are firmly set, 
 
 Fiery and furious is his glance, 
 His knitted eye-brows almost met 
 
 Across his glowing countenance. 
 Convulsed his form, as ague-struck, 
 One instant violently shook, 
 
 Then settled down to rest again 
 
 Rigid and stiff, one instant — then — 
 
 XIII. 
 
 " Not alone" he exclaimed ; with vast effort repelling 
 
 The soldiers beside him, his 1)ody he (lung 
 At once upon Nai)per, and savagely yelling, 
 
 To the throat and the neck of his victim he clung. 
 V\ hiLit the Puritan preacher endeavoured in vain 
 
 With effort convulsive to shake him aside, 
 Shock answering to shock, and strain griping with strain, 
 
 In vain for relief to the troopers ho cried :
 
 THE JESUIT. 259 
 
 For stunned and aghast stand the Loyalists all, 
 Whilst sternly and wildly the struggles proceed ; 
 
 The blow and the wrestle, the reel and the fall, 
 
 In rapid succession their senses appal, 
 
 And oaths and deep curses to silence succeed : 
 
 As still in that hon'ible conflict entwined, 
 
 On the ground in fierce grapple they writhe and they wind, 
 
 With starting of eyeball, and panting of breath, 
 
 Expanding of nostril, and gnashing of teeth. 
 
 XIV. 
 
 What meaneth that darkly grained current that wells, 
 
 In a crimson stream trickling the wrestlers beside 1 
 Another, another, the purple pool swells : 
 
 'Tis the warm blood of Commin the pavement has dyed, 
 Where Napper o'ermastered and strangling below, 
 
 In desperate agony, gasping for life. 
 Through the neck and the chest of the merciless foe 
 
 Up plunges vindictive the murderous knife. 
 But thrust nor sharp anguish can Commin confound ; 
 
 In his purpose remorseless, unmoved in his hate, 
 He feels not the blows, though each deep driven wound 
 
 In the life that it poureth bears onward his fate. 
 One object is his, — though his strength failcth fast 
 
 To that object he strains, — and — he conquers at last. 
 More faint are the struggles of Napper beneath, — 
 
 More powerless his aim, — and more feeble his blows ; — 
 His choking throat gurgles,— and thickly his breath 
 
 Pants forth, — as the strong hands of Commin enclose
 
 260 THE JESUIT. 
 
 The neck with firm fingers, till almost they meet 
 
 In the livid skin printed ! — The panting is o'er : — 
 In dying contortions the doubling limbs beat 
 
 On the pavement ; — then stretch their stiflf muscles once 
 more, 
 Extended and lifeless ! — The work is complete I — 
 Commin, bleeding and staggering, reels to his feet 
 One moment ; then stoops him the body before, 
 With trembling hands searching tears open the vest, 
 And bears forth a packet concealed in the breast. 
 
 XV. 
 
 What sees he beneath, as o'er Napper he bends 1 
 
 What prize of strange import so eagerly rends 
 
 From its hiding ? what meaneth that gesture of scorn, 
 
 So keen, so triumphant, as scarcely upborne 
 
 In his posture erect on his tottering limbs. 
 
 Whilst his glazing eye fixes, his dizzy brain swims, 
 
 He waves it aloft 1 Then the packet he throws 
 
 Towards Reginald Verc with last eftbrt of strength : 
 Then, haggard and ghastly, glares round on his foes. 
 
 Who awake from their horror-struck stupor at length ; 
 Then sinking, slow sinking, the body unto, 
 
 Across it falls heavily. Forced liy the fall, 
 From his grasp the dear spoils of bis victory Hew : 
 The points of a crucifix burst into view, 
 
 The beads of a rosary roll through the hall'', 
 The mysteries of Nap|)cr ! the soldiers crowd near, 
 
 And mark the strange syml)ols with awe and surprise ; 
 •I See note D at the eud of cunto.
 
 THE JESUIT. 261 
 
 And Commin half lifts him, half struggles to clear 
 From the film of departure his death-swimming eyes ; 
 
 His dying lips writhe with a horrible sneer, 
 
 As he points to the emblems in mockery, and dies ! 
 
 XVI. 
 
 This was the mystery of the art 
 
 Of him, whose lips professed 
 To bear a new reformer's part, 
 
 In the garb of the godly drest ; 
 Yet wore a crucifix in his heart, 
 
 And a rosary in his breast ! 
 This was the mystery of the zeal, 
 
 That the flame of faction fann'd, 
 Who professed the popish sore to heal^ 
 
 Through the 1)reudth of a jealous land ; 
 Whose acts were stamped with the pontiff's seal, 
 
 In the cardinal legate's handf ! 
 This was the mystery of the tongue, 
 
 That sped from west to east. 
 With all the abominations strung 
 
 Of the seven-fold headed beast. 
 Till the English Church with the figments rung 
 
 Of the wily Jesuit i>riest ! 
 This was the mystery of the skill, 
 
 That most her sous divides. 
 And sets them up against her will, 
 
 And up against their guides, 
 The streagth of that Unity to kill 
 
 That the power of Rome derides ! 
 
 e t See notes D £ at tbR end of caato.
 
 262 THE JESUIT. 
 
 This was the mystery that began 
 In the Frankfort monster's womb, 
 
 And through the reign of " the Martyr" ran, 
 And extends to years to come ; 
 
 The mystery of the Puritan," 
 
 That covereth the craft of Rome ! 
 
 XVII. 
 
 Oh England ! When wilt thou be freeg 
 
 From treachery-prompted fears ; 
 Nor with the eyes of traitors see, 
 
 Nor hear with traitors' ears ; 
 Nor deem thy firmest sons untrue, 
 
 In good or ill report, 
 \\\w, what their Church would say or do, 
 
 By word and deed support ; 
 Nor, her pledged soldiers in the fight ! 
 
 Deny or trample down 
 By sacrilegious fraud or might, 
 
 The jewels of her crown 1 
 
 XVIII. 
 
 When round her courts her children, bold 
 With scant allegiance, storm. 
 
 Scoff at the reverent truths of old. 
 And clamour for reform ; 
 
 When, in vague dreams of doubtful light, 
 Ilcr visionaries stray, 
 
 g Bfc note F lit the i-iid of oiiiito.
 
 TUE JESUIT. 263 
 
 The Reformation's -wisdom slight, 
 
 And sigh for purer day ; 
 Restless and wayward in their bent 
 
 For fancies wild and strange, 
 Fostering a morbid discontent, 
 
 For all that does not change : 
 The Church's wrongs my mind provoke 
 
 To view, with anxious eyes, 
 In Napper's puritanic cloak 
 
 A Jesuit in disguise ] 
 
 XIX. 
 
 Was there a doubt of him, who lay 
 
 Livid, and stiff, and cold. 
 Before their face 1 I answer, nay : 
 
 Not thus that packet told. 
 From Napper's breast by Commin rent, 
 
 Whose mysteries, now unsealed. 
 In many a cyphered document 
 
 The damning truth revealed ! 
 Licence, indulgence, and decree, 
 
 From Urban '' down to Con, 
 To join the ranks of heresy, 
 
 St. Peter's faithful son ! 
 To spread distrust in truest hearti. 
 
 Dissent in happiest home. 
 Till the strong power is rent apart 
 
 Whose utiion laughs at Rome ! 
 
 ^ ' See notes G H at the eud of canto.
 
 264 TUE JESUIT. 
 
 XX. 
 
 Reginald Vere, with anguished soul, 
 Surveyed and closed the guilty scroll. 
 " Alas, my father !" low he said, 
 " By such deep arts wast thou betrayed ; 
 And, in thy hate to Rome, hast wrought 
 Her ends, and thine own ruin brought ! 
 We may not now the past recall : 
 But, taught by thy most fatal fall, 
 May we in all our actions prove, 
 Obedience is the test of love !" 
 
 Whispering he spoke. The low tones pealed 
 
 With strange distinctness through the pile : 
 And, with both hands his face concealed, 
 
 Tn painful musing paused awhile : 
 Then with strong effort all his mind 
 Roused to exertion, and he signed 
 To Norris, who with mouniful gaze. 
 
 Within the chancel's broken arch, 
 The ruins of his home surveys ; 
 
 " Gilbert, prci)are our march," 
 He said, " ere light our halt betrays ; 
 
 And from the town the rebel guard 
 
 Our course may hamss or retard. 
 The litters, with a chosen band 
 
 Be they within our centre led : 
 For these," and with a shuddering hand 
 
 He pointed to the dead,
 
 THE JESUIT. 265 
 
 " Without the moat be they interred : 
 Lead on ! I follow !" with the word 
 He waved his hand, and, when the last 
 Of all his trooi) had outward past, 
 To the charged sorrows of his breast, 
 By firm constraint awhile suppressed, 
 Gave full relief, and in the shade 
 Of the lone chapel knelt and prayed. 
 
 XXI. 
 
 Oh Time ! he hath a two-fold pace : 
 
 The first is grave and slow ; 
 And the second is like a rapid race. 
 
 So swift he seems to go. 
 When forward we our glances cast, 
 
 How irksome appears his tread ! 
 When we look back upon the past, 
 
 How speedily hath he fled ! 
 Oh Time ! he hath a rapid pace 
 
 To those who backward look ; 
 He hath glided over a six-months' space, 
 
 Like the leaves of a closing book ! 
 
 Six months of the changing year, 
 Autumn wet,'and winter drear ! 
 Six months of a bed of woe, 
 Danger long, recovery slow !
 
 2G6 THE JESUIT. 
 
 Six months of a soldier's life, 
 Weary siege and dangerous strife, 
 With some pleasant, pleasant dreams 
 Intertwined with future schemes ! 
 Six months' space our rhyme hath borne 
 To a cheerfid April mom. 
 
 XXII. 
 
 A broad blue sea, with clear bright spray, 
 And a small bitat on the shore, 
 
 And a tall ship rolling in the bay, 
 And a signal-cannon's roar, 
 
 That calls the loiterers from the land, 
 And sails flapping to and fro, 
 
 And a little group upon the strand, 
 Prepared yet loath to go ! 
 
 Morlcy is there, yet worn and weak ; 
 
 And iNIarinn, with her pallid cheek ; 
 
 And Reginald, who with anxious mien 
 
 Looks with calm sadness on the scene, 
 
 Then turns away with faint adieu, 
 And promises of future meeting, 
 As witli swift l)uw the billows locating 
 
 The exiles' l)oat withdrew ! 
 
 XXIII. 
 
 Oh Time ! thou spccd'st with wings of power ! 
 Well may the future say :
 
 THE JESUIT. 
 
 A month is like a busy hovir, 
 
 And a year is like a day : 
 Like the memory of a fleeting dream, 
 
 When the morning sun appears, 
 In the history of the past may seem 
 
 A six months' hopes and fears ! 
 
 Six months of a buddmg spring, 
 
 And a summer's blossoming ; 
 
 Six months of an exile spent 
 
 In their land of banishment ; 
 
 Six months of a life of toil 
 
 In his own distracted soil, 
 
 Severed from his tenderest ties, 
 
 True to his fidelities : 
 
 Six months' space hath borne our rhyme 
 
 To the fading autumn time ! 
 
 XXIV. 
 
 The same broad, blue, and sparkling main, 
 With its tall black rolling ship again ; 
 And its flapping saUs, and its signal gun. 
 And its small boat waiting to be gone, 
 And an exile group prepared to fly 
 For refuge to a kindlier sky ! 
 
 XXV. 
 
 And one amidst that group there came, 
 With wasted cheek and wounded frame. 
 
 267
 
 268 THE JESUIT. 
 
 Trenched with deep scars by rebel brand, 
 On Marston Moor ; in desperate stand 
 Beat down ; and, in the last retreat, 
 Left stunned beneath the horses' feet ! 
 He came ! with name and fortune lost, 
 His castle razed, dispersed his host ! 
 He came ! with arm too weak to sliield j 
 His monarch's cause in loyal field. 
 With heart that mourned the rival hate. 
 The jealous doubts, the mad debate, 
 And poisonous seeds of ruin sownJ 
 Tlu"ough all the counsels of the throne ! 
 
 XXVI. 
 
 And yet amidst the pensive shade, 
 
 By many an anxious son'ow laid j 
 
 On Reginald's brow ; amidst the pain 
 
 Of bruised limbs, and aching strain. 
 
 And wf)unds unclosed ; in Reginald's face 
 
 No blank despair held hopeless place ! 
 
 What though expression sad he wore, 
 
 As dropt behind the lessening shore. 
 
 How brightly, to the ocean turned. 
 
 Flashed his clear eye, his pale check burned, 
 
 As if, beyond the distant wave. 
 
 Visions of joy the future gave, 
 
 And scenes of (jiiiet days to come, 
 
 \\ ith friends beloved in tian<|uil home ! 
 
 J Bee uote I at the eod of canto.
 
 THE JESUIT. 269 
 
 XXVII, 
 
 With Reginald sinks the closing lay, 
 Alas ! why further scenes portray, 
 Where nought but anarchy and crimes 
 Fill the sad annals of the times ? 
 Why paint the night's disastrous close 
 Of thy brief glory's day, Montkose ? 
 Why, Scotland, paint thy country's shame ? 
 (A king's betrayal on thy name !) 
 Why di-aw the dark Usurper's rise 
 Through all his l)old hypocrisies ? 
 The triumph of revenge and fraud 
 In the grey hairs of murdered Laud ? 
 Or that fell blow, that crime accurst, 
 The foulest, mightiest, and the worst. 
 Wrought upon man, in wrath or pride. 
 When England's koyal martyr died ? 
 
 XXVIII. 
 
 Was thine the crime, Thou, whose throne'' 
 
 Is raised on many waters, 
 Thou ! decked with many a precious stone. 
 
 And drunk with many slaughters ' ? 
 When thy full chalice foaming up 
 
 With blood of saints is stored, 
 Is there a red drop in the cup 
 
 From England's martyred lord ? 
 
 li See note K at the end of raato. 
 ' Ilev. xvii. 1, 4, 6.
 
 •270 THE JESUIT. 
 
 Safe in thy secret wiles rejoice ! 
 
 But know the hour is nigh, 
 When thou must hear the accuser's voice, 
 
 And when thou must reply. 
 Live on, detested for thy pride, 
 
 And for thy blindness mourned ; 
 In thy presumptuous thi'cats defied, 
 
 In thy false beauty scorned ! 
 Live on, until again be seen 
 
 The writing and the sign"", 
 And judgment shall be passed between 
 
 The cause of truth — and thine ! 
 
 ■" Dan. V. 25 ; Rev. xviii. 10.
 
 NOTES TO CANTO VI. PART II. 
 
 Note A, p. 252. 
 
 This conversation is taken from the examination of Fuitliful Com- 
 min before Queen Elizabeth, and the Privy Council. The examina- 
 tion being carried on by his grace Matthew Parker, lord archbishop 
 of Canterbury, as follows : 
 
 " Archbishop. Faithful Commin, of what profession art thou ? 
 
 Fa. Comsiin. Of Christ's order. 
 
 Archbishop. What order is that ? 
 
 Fa. Comjiin. A preacher of the holy Gospel. 
 
 Archbishop. 'Wliat Gospel is that you call the holy Gospel ? 
 
 Fa. Commin. The Gospel of Jesus Christ. 
 
 Archbishop. Under what power do you own to hold that Gospel ? 
 
 Fa. Commin. Under Christ and His saints. 
 
 Archbishop. Do you acknowledge any other power save Christ 
 to be on earth? 
 
 Fa. Commin. The holy Catholic Church," &c. <S:c. 
 
 Foxes and Firebrands, parti, pp. 15, 16. 
 
 Note B, p. 25S. 
 
 " Having thus successfully divided ns, and inflamed dissenters 
 with a zeal so hot against the Church of England, as is fit upon all 
 occasions both to take and give fire, they endeavour to blow up the 
 sparks into a flame: they persuade dissenters episcopacy is guilty of 
 most intolerable ambition, pride, avarice, and tyranny, they press 
 them to maintain their liberty of conscience against the anti-christian 
 yoke of ceremonies, and to pull down Babylon." — Foxes and Fire- 
 brands, part i. p. 11. 
 
 Note C, p. 253. 
 
 The connection between Commin and Napper was in a certain de- 
 gree suggested by the account of Francis Throgmorton and his friend 
 Samuel Harper recorded in Foxes and Firebrands, part ii. p. 58.
 
 272 NOTES. 
 
 This Francis Throgmorton was seized on in London, 1584, and several 
 treasons laid to his charge ; " although he was a papist, yet he was a 
 great friend to one Samuel Harper, who several times preached after 
 a puritanical manner in the town of Norwich : this great conversation 
 of his with this pretendi'd minister caused great suspicion to arise in 
 that town amongst the inhabitants, there being more than ordinary 
 betwixt these two." In the end Harper made his escape, but Throg- 
 morton was hanged. See note D. 
 
 Note D, p. 260. 
 
 " After Thomas Heth's examination it was resolved to send to his 
 lodgings at the Queen's Arms iu Rochester, where upon search, in 
 one of his boots were found his beads and several papers, amongst 
 which was a licence from the fraternity of Jesuits, and a bull dated 
 the first of Pius Quintus, to preach what doctrine that society pleased 
 for the dividing of Protestants, particularly naming the English Pro- 
 testants by the name of heretics. In his trunk were several books 
 for denying baptism to infants, &c." — Foxes and Firebrands, part i. 
 p. 41. 
 
 In the case of Throgmorton, the friend of Samael Harper the puri- 
 tanical preacher alluded to in the preceding note, amongst papers of 
 treason found in his chamber were " liceuces and pardons from the 
 Jcsuitu' convent at Sevill. The undertakers were to be of what trade 
 or calling soever they pleased, to teach what doctrine, to be of what 
 opinion or religion soever," <tc. And the same Throgmorton further 
 confessed before his execution that " there were in England above a 
 dozen that ho knew, who were permitted to preach by the Jesuits' 
 licences purposely to breed a faction in these dominions." — Foxes and 
 Firebrands, part ii. pp. 60, 61. 
 
 In the acconnt of an impostor, in the guise of a Quaker, detected 
 by Dr. Henry Hammonil and brought l>efore the Usurper at White- 
 hall in 1566, Ware says that his chamber being searched "they 
 found an old chest filled portly with his wearing apparel, as also with 
 several piipers, and seditious popish books; amongst which, there 
 being a pair of boots, and jiapers stuft in one of them, they fonnd 
 a parchment bull of licence to this imiKistor, granted under several 
 names, to assume what function and calling he pleased." — Foxes and 
 Firebrands, jiart ii. p. 102.
 
 NOTES. 273 
 
 Note E, p. 261. 
 
 Faithful Commin thus defends himself: " There are several have 
 heard my prayers and sermons, and can testify that I have spoken 
 against Rome and her pope, as much as any of the clergy have since 
 they have fallen from her: I wonder therefore why I should be 
 suspected." — Foxes and Firebrands, p. 18. 
 
 A specimen of Jesuitical argument appears in the explanation of 
 Lndovic Freake, of the order of Jesus, which accounts for disguised 
 papists being able to speak against Rome when occasion serves. " He 
 replied, 'when they rail against Rome and their hearts be contrary, 
 it is no sin; they may mean Rome, and name it, as it was in the 
 ancient Roman days; and also the word Pope, for that wonl in Latin, 
 Papa, is as much as to say, a Bishop ; so that he may mean one of 
 their heretic bishops, and that these mental railings advanced the 
 see of Rome, and furthered their designs in several respects.'" — 
 Ibid., part ii. p. 44. 
 
 Note F, p. 262. 
 
 " I pray God this clamour of Venieut Romani (of which I have 
 given no cause) help not to bring them in ; for the pope never had 
 such an harvest in England since the Reformation, as he hath now 
 upon the sects and divisions that are amongst us." — Archbishop 
 Laud's speech on the scafibld; from Heylyn's Cyprianus Anglicus, 
 p. 5.33. 
 
 Note G, p. 263. 
 
 " Con, or Cuneus, a Scottish man, resided in London as the pro- 
 viiuial of the College of Jesuits. lie is called in Rushworth's Collec- 
 tions the pope's legate or nuncio." — Clarendon, vol. i. p. 232. Sir 
 Will. Boswell's letter, quoted by Ware, Foxes and Firebrands, p. 51. 
 
 The Urban alluded to is Urban VIII., who was Maffeo Barberini 
 of Florence, and succeeded Gregory XV. 1623, died 1644, and was 
 succeeded by Innocent X. 
 
 Note H, p. 263. 
 
 The following extract is taken from ' a letter from Sir fniliam Bos- 
 ireU,to the most Rere'-end tl'illiam ImiuI, late Archbishop of Canterbiiri^, 
 remaimnj with Sir Robert Cotton's choice papers ;' being the seventeenth 
 letter in the appendix to Dr. Parr's Life of Archbishop Usher. 
 
 T
 
 274 NOTES. 
 
 •• There he in the town of Hague, to my certain knowledge, two 
 dangerous impostors, of whom I have given notice to the Prince of 
 Orange, who have large indulgences granted them, and known to be 
 of the Church of Rome, although they seem Puritans, and do converse 
 with several of our English factors. The one James Murray a Scotch- 
 man, and the other John Xapper a Yorkshire blade. The main drift 
 of these intentions is, to pull down the English episcopacy, as being 
 the chief support of the imperial crown of our nation : for which pur- 
 pose, above sixty Romish clergymen are gone within these two years 
 out of the monasteries of the French king's doniiiiions, to preach up the 
 Scotch covenant, and Mr. Knox his descriptions and rules within that 
 kirk, and to spread the same about the northern coasts of England. 
 Let therefore his majesty have an inkling of these crotchets, that he 
 might be persuaded, whenever matters of the Church come before you, 
 to refer them lo your Grace an<l the episcopal party of the realm: 
 for there be great preparations making ready against the Liturgy and 
 ceremonies of the Church of England. And all ill contrivances here 
 and in France, and in other Protestant holdings, to make your Grace 
 and the episcopacy odious to all reformed Protestants abroad. It has 
 wrought so much on divers of the; foreign ministers of the Protestants, 
 that they esteem our clergy little better than papists." See also 
 note p, p. 73, concerning which I would observe, that although in that 
 place I have culled Najjper a Jesuit impostor, I have no direct proof 
 that ho wiis of the order of .Jesus. In the list of persons upon whom 
 the archbishoprics and bishoprics of England w-ere bestowed by the 
 pope in 1678, mention is made of one Napper, a Franciscan friar, 
 nominated to the bishopric of Norwich ; but there is no proof that 
 he was the person in question. In fact, Francisc-ms, Dominicans, and 
 Jesuits were !ill cinijluycd in ihe work of itniiDsition. 
 
 Note I, p. 2ti8. 
 
 This was especially the case after tlie battle of Mnrslon Moor, in 
 which the two general.", the mapiuisof Newcastle and Prince Uupert, 
 were at utter variance ; and the marquis after the battle left the king- 
 dom in disgust. Rimthir dissensions had occurred l)etween the prince 
 and the earl of LyniUay at Edgehill ; Prince Maurice aud Ihe mar- 
 tiuis of Ilcrirnrd and curl of Caniarvon at Dorchester. Indeed the 
 overbearing characters of the king's ni'phcws seem to have weakened 
 the royal cauie, more than it was benefited by their zeal and cou- 
 r.ign an soldiers. — Clarendon's History, vol. ii. pp. 03, .503, 7.54.
 
 NOTES. 275 
 
 Note K, p. 269 
 
 The benefit reaped by the papists by the martyrdom of King 
 Charles was frequently lamented by Archbishop Ussher, who, as hit 
 biographer Dr. Parr remarks, " would always bewail the scandal aud 
 reproach that it cast, not only on our own nation, but on religion it- 
 self; saying that thereby a great advantage was given to popery, and 
 that from thenceforward the priests would with greater success advance 
 their designs against the Church of England and Protestant religion 
 in general." See aUo Life of Archbishop Ussher, by Dr. Elrington, 
 p. 262.
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 Page 57. 
 
 The remark concerning the punishment of Prynne is sanc- 
 tioned by his own confession. Southey, in his Book of the 
 Church, chap. xvii. p. 363, says, " Prynne himself lived to be 
 sensible of this, (namely, that the principles which he dis- 
 seminated tended directly to excite rebellion,) and to acknow- 
 ledge in his old age that, ' if the king had cut off his head, 
 when he only cropt his ears, he had done no more than jus- 
 tice, and had done God and the nation good service.' " This 
 observation is quoted by Lawson in his Life of Abp. Laud, vol. 
 ii. p. 181^, on the authority of Archdeacon Echard, in his His- 
 tory of England. 
 
 Page 68—82. 
 
 The especial mischief wrought by the lecturers put in by the 
 parliamentary commissioners, was that " they raised an odium 
 on the loyal and conformable clergy, (by persuading people 
 they were insufficient for their several charges, without the 
 help of these assistants,) and helped to raise factions (for they 
 served in several capacities) in the several parishes where 
 they were placed, and worried the regular ministers of their 
 livings." — Walker, part i. p. 16.
 
 278 APPENDIX. 
 
 Page 69. 
 
 " Of the profound ignorance which existed in some of the wit- 
 nesses against the clergy, one example may be cited in the 
 case of the Rev. Thomas Gibson, vicar of Horncastle, in Lin- 
 colnshire, who was articled against by some of his parishioners 
 (before the sequestrators under the earl of Mancliester) for 
 Ormanism, by which they meant Arminianism." — AValker, part i. 
 p. 93 ; part ii. p. 252. 
 
 A specimen of the vagueness of some of the charges, pre- 
 sents itself in " the case of the Kev. John Newte of Tiverton, 
 against whom a witness of no common note deposed ; ' that he 
 heard a gentleman say, that he had heard another gentleman saij, 
 that Mr. Newte, when in France, promoted the king's interest,' 
 and this deposition was admitted, and had its weight." — Ibid, 
 part i. p. 94 ; part ii. p. 316. 
 
 Page 71. 
 
 " On the ejection of the Rev. Dr. Horsmanden, rector of 
 Ulcomb, CO. Kent, Mr. Belchier succeeding and having worked 
 the doctor out by preaching down tithes as Jewish and anti- 
 christian, at first lived on contributions, hut tiiese failing, he 
 sued for tithes from the first moment of his coming in among 
 
 them. Beginning with one P a leading man, from whom 
 
 he recovered treble damages, and made all the rest submit." 
 — Walker's Sullcriiigs of the Clergy, part ii. p. 267. 
 
 " The successor of the Rev. William Lewis, rector of 
 St. Flagan's, Glamorganshire, was one of the name of Ellis,' 
 who preached down tithes as unlawful and anli-christian, but
 
 APPENDIX. 279 
 
 finding it necessary to resort to them, and'thinking it too shame- 
 less to preach up wliat he liad preaclied down before, gets one 
 Symonds, an itinerant brother, to preach for him from Mai. iii. 
 10, — ' Bring ye all the tithes into the store-house.' " — Ibid., 
 part ii. p. 301. 
 
 " The parishioners of Kellygare in Glamorganshire chose 
 one ' David Davis,' an anabaptist, for their teacher, who was 
 to take the cure as a free gift of the people, and not to inter- 
 meddle with tithes, on which conditions he accepted it, and more- 
 over preached down tithes for three years together. But the 
 benevolence of the parishioners falling short of what the tithes 
 would have amounted to, Mr. Davis began to be mutinous, and 
 turning his tale, preached up the divine right of tithes, which 
 gave great offence to the godly of that parish."' — Ibid., part ii. 
 p. 228. 
 
 Page 88. 
 
 " The communications of Andrew Habernfield to Archbisliop 
 Laud, forwarded by Sir "William Boswell, embassador at the 
 Hague, speak of a weekly post to Rome from the Jesuits in 
 London." — Foxes and Firebrands, part iii. pp. 106, 133. 
 
 Pack 1.38. 
 
 Walker says that " the sequestered benefices were given to 
 those who obtained them, to be held no otherwise by them, 
 than as usufructuaries, or tenants at will ; that so they miglu 
 continue in servile obsequiousness to the power and pleasure 
 of their great landlords." — Part i. p. 73. 
 
 Lord Staunton's influence in the sequestration of Morley, is 
 not without its parallel in the history of the times. It has 
 already been observed that the vicar of Staunton in Shropshire, 
 Thomas Orpe, was displaced from his ministry in a chapel at
 
 280 APPKNDIX. 
 
 Moreton Sea, by Colonel Clive, who took upon himself the 
 patronage of the chapel. Robert Wallop, Esq., lord of the 
 manor of Wapenham, procured by his influence the seques- 
 tration of the Rev. Caesar Williamson, rector of that parish. 
 Major Saunders had nearly efTected the dismissal of the Rev. 
 Robert Terry from the vicarage of Pehmbury in Devon. " He 
 called at that gentleman's house one day on his way to Ply- 
 mouth, and told him that he was resolved on his return to 
 sequester him ; but as it pleased God, he never lived to come 
 
 home again." Sir R S , a bitter enemy to the clergy, 
 
 being patron of the vicarage of Thrup in Northamptonshire, 
 ejected the Rev. George Preston from his cure, and " tlie 
 
 parishioners being tenants to Sir R S , he ordered 
 
 them not to pay their tithes to Mr. Preston." — Walker, part ii. 
 pp. 323, 402, 423, 332. 
 
 It is curious that in the committee of Northampton is men- 
 tioned a Sir II d S n, of whom it is said that he first 
 
 belonged to the royal party, and afterwards became a viuhnt 
 Puritan. 
 
 Pagl 13!). 
 
 Dr. Peter Hcylyn in his History of the Life and Death of 
 Archbishop Laud, writes, " Rut nothing raised so much noise 
 and clamour, as the oath required by the sixth Canon; ex- 
 claimed ngainst both from the pulpit and press ; reproached in 
 printed pamphlet^;, and unjjrinted scril.bles ; and glad they 
 were to find such an exc-ollcnt advantage, as the discovering of 
 an &c. in the body of it, did unhappily give them. This 
 voiced abroad to be the greatest ini/sleri/ of iniquity which these 
 last ages had produced, containing in it so much of the depths 
 y of Satdii, that as no man could see the bottom of the iniquity : 
 no neither they that made the oath, nor they that were to take 
 it underRtood the mystery." — Part ii. book iv. p. 413.
 
 APPENDIX. 281 
 
 The oath objected to was tliis : — " I, A. B. do swear that I do 
 approve the doctrine, and discipline, or governmejit established in 
 the Church of England ; as containing all tilings necessary to 
 salvation. And I will not endeavour by myself or any other, 
 directly, or indirectly, to bring in any popish doctrine, contrary 
 to that which is so established. Nor will I ever give my consent 
 to alter the government of this Church, by Archbishops, Bishops, 
 Deans, and Archdeacons, Sic. As it stands now established, arid 
 as by right it ought to stand; nor yet ever to subject it to the 
 usurpations and superstitions of the See of Rome. And all these 
 things I do plainly and seriously acknowledge, and swear, accord- 
 ing to the plain sense and understanding of the same words 
 without any equivocation or mental evasion, or secret reservation 
 whatsoever. And this I do heartily, willingly, and truly, upon 
 the faith of a Christian, so help me God in Jesus Christ. 
 
 " This oath was required to be taken by all Archbishops, 
 Bishops, Priests, and Deacons, before the second day of 
 November, following the Convocation of 1640." — Heylyn's 
 Cyprianus Anglicus, p. 433. 
 
 Page 235. 
 
 The instances of the deplorable results which accrued to 
 many parishes after their being deprived of the guidance of 
 their lawful ministers, are too numerous to be mentioned. 
 "The excellent Mr. Towgood, and Mr. Standfast of Bristol, 
 were succeeded by taylors and others ; who, some were Bap- 
 tists, others in 1653 turned Quakers and Ranters." " Doctor 
 Rowland Haywood, vicar of Frodsliam in Cambridgeshire, was 
 succeeded first by a Presbyterian, and secondly by an Anabap- 
 tist, who quitted it at the Restoration, leaving most of the parish, 
 either of his own persuasion, or Quakers." And in the petition 
 from South Wales, complaint is made " that many hundreds 
 were converted to popery, after the casting out of the old 
 
 V
 
 282 APPENDIX. 
 
 iiiinisteis; and that whole parishes had fallen off that way ; the 
 people chusing, as the petition well observed, rather to go to 
 Rome than to Bedlam ; their preachers being so divided in 
 their opinions, that the good people were at a stand ; and knew 
 not whither else to betake themselves." — Walker, part i. pp. 
 98, 164. 
 
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