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

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

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

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

Rydal Mount, January 24, 1822.

TREPIDATION OF THE DRUIDS.

SCREAMS round the arch-druid's brow the seamew*-white [ring As Menai's foam; and towards the mystic Where augurs stand, the future questioning, Slowly the cormorant aims her heavy flight, Portending ruin to each baleful rite, That, in the lapse of ages hath crept o'er Diluvian truths, and patriarchal lore. Haughty the bard;-can these meek doctrines blight

His transports? wither his heroic strains? But all shall be fulfilled;-the Julian spear A way first opened: and, with Roman chains,

The tidings come of Jesus crucified; They come-they spread-the weak, the suffering, hear;

Receive the faith, and in the hope abide.

That intimation when the stars were shaped; (truth And still, 'mid yon thick woods, the primal Glimmers through many a superstitious

form

That fills the soul with unavailing ruth.

lost

UNCERTAINTY.

DARKNESS surrounds us; seeking, we are
[coves,
On Snowdon's wilds, amid Brigantian
Or where the solitary shepherd roves
Along the plain of Sarum, by the ghost
Of time and shadows of tradition, crost;
And where the boatman of the Western
isles
[piles
Slackens his course-to mark those holy
Which yet survive on bleak Iona's coast.
Nor these, nor monuments of eldest fame
Nor Taliesin's unforgotten lays,
Nor characters of Greek or Roman fame,
To an unquestionable source have led;
Enough-if eyes that sought the fountain-
head,

In vain, upon the growing rill may gaze.

PERSECUTION.

LAMENT! for Diocletian's fiery sword Works busy as the lightning; but instinct With malice ne'er to deadliest weapon linked,

Which God's ethereal storehouses afford: Against the followers of the incarnate Lord It rages;-some are smitten in the field-Some pierced beneath the ineffectual shield Of sacred home;-with pomp are others gored

And dreadful respite. Thus was Alban tried, England's first martyr, whom no threats could shake;

Self-offered victim, for his friend he died, And for the faith-nor shall his name forsake [riset That hill, whose flowery platform seems to By nature decked for holiest sacrifice.

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

RECOVERY.

regain

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

seem.

TEMPTATIONS FROM ROMAN REFINEMENTS.

WATCH, and be firm! for soul-subduing vice,

Heart-killing luxury, on your steps await. Fair houses, baths, and banquets delicate And temples flashing, bright as polar ice, Their radiance through the woods, may yet suffice

To sap your hardy virtue, and abate
Your love of Him upon whose forehead sate
The crown of thorns; whose life-blood
flowed, the price
[arts
Of your redemption. Shun the insidious
That Rome provides, less dreading from
her frown
[gown,
Than from her wily praise, her peaceful
Language and letters;-these, though
fondly viewed

As humanizing graces, are but parts
And instruments of deadliest servitude!

DISSENSIONS.

THAT heresies should strike (if truth be scanned [deep Presumptuously) their roots both wide and Is natural as dreams to feverish sleep. Lo! Discord at the altar dares to stand Uplifting toward high heaven her fiery brand,

lateribus longè latèque deductum in modum æquoris natura complanat, dignum videlicet cum pro insita sibi specie venustatis jam olim reddens, qui beati martyris cruore dicaretur."

A cherished priestess of the new-baptized! The Pictish cloud darkens the enervate land By Rome abandoned, vain are suppliant cries, [farewell,

And prayers that would undo her forced For she returns not.-Awed by her own knell,

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

STRUGGLE OF THE BRITONS AGAINST THE BARBARIANS.

ask

RISE!- they have risen: of brave Aneurin
[friends:
How they have scourged old foes, perfidious
The spirit of Caractacus defends
The patriots, animates their glorious task;-
Amazement runs before the towering casque
Of Arthur, bearing through the stormy field
The Virgin sculptured on his Christian
shield:-

Stretched in the sunny light of victory bask
The hosts that followed Urien as he strode
O'er heaps of slain;-from Cambrian wood
and moss

Druids descend, auxiliars of the Cross; Bards, nursed on blue Plinlimmon's still abode, [swords, Rush on the fight, to harps preferring And everlasting deeds to burning words!

SAXON CONQUEST.

NOR wants the cause the panic-striking aid
Of hallelujahs* tost from hill to hill-
For instant victory. But Heaven's high will
Permits a second and a darker shade
Of pagan light. Afflicted and dismayed,
The relics of the sword flee to the moun-
tains:
[like fountains;
O wretched land! whose tears have flowed
Whose arts and honours in the dust are laid,
By men yet scarcely conscious of a care
For other monuments than those of earth;†
Who, as the fields and woods have given
them birth,

Alluding to the victory gained under Germanus.-See Bede.

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

See the original of this speech in Bede.The conversion of Edwin, as related by him is highly interesting-and the breaking up of this council accompanied with an event so striking and characterístic, that I am tempted to give it at length, in a translation. "Who, exclaimed the king, when the council was ended, shall first desecrate the altars and the temples? I, answered the chief priest, for who more fit than myself, through the wisdom which the true God hath given me to destroy, for the good example of others, what in foolishness I worshipped? Immediately, casting away vain superstition, he besought the king to grant him, what the laws did not allow to a priest, arms and a courser; which mounting, and furnished with a sword and lance, he proceeded to destroy the idols.

The crowd, seeing. this, thought him mad-he, however, halted not, but approaching he profaned the temple, casting against it the lance which he had held in his hand, and, exulting in acknowledgment of the true God, he ordered his companions to pull down the temple, with all its inclosures. The place is shown where those idols formerly stood, not far from York, at the source of the river Derwent, and is at this day called Gormund Gaham."