And he who guides the plough, or wields the crook,
With understanding spirit now may look

Upon her records, listen to her song,

And sift her laws, — much wondering that the

wrong,

Which Faith has suffered, Heaven could calmly
brook.

Transcendent Boon! noblest that earthly king
Ever bestowed to equalize and bless

Under the weight of mortal wretchedness!
But passions spread like plagues, and thousands wild
With bigotry shall tread the Offering
Beneath their feet, detested and defiled.

XXX.

THE POINT AT ISSUE.

FOR what contend the wise?

for nothing less

Than that the Soul, freed from the bonds of Sense,
And to her God restored by evidence

Of things not seen, drawn forth from their recess,
Root there, and not in forms, her holiness;
For Faith, which to the Patriarchs did dispense

Sure guidance, ere a ceremonial fence

Was needful round men thirsting to transgress;

For Faith, more perfect still, with which the Lord

Of all, himself a Spirit, in the youth

Of Christian aspiration, deigned to fill

The temples of their hearts who, with his word

And some, coeval with the earliest blush
Of infant passion, scarcely dare to show
Their pearly lustre, coming but to go;

And some break forth when others' sorrows crush
The sympathizing heart. Nor these, nor yet
The noblest drops to admiration known,
To gratitude, to injuries forgiven,

Claim Heaven's regard like waters that have wet
The innocent eyes of youthful Monarchs, driven
To pen the mandates nature doth disown.

XXXIII.

REVIVAL OF POPERY.

THE saintly Youth has ceased to rule, discrowned
By unrelenting Death. O People keen

For change, to whom the new looks always green!
Rejoicing did they cast upon the ground
Their Gods of wood and stone; and, at the sound
Of counter-proclamation, now are seen
(Proud triumph is it for a sullen Queen!)
Lifting them up, the worship to confound
Of the Most High. Again do they invoke
The Creature, to the Creature glory give;
Again with frankincense the altars smoke
Like those the Heathen served; and mass is sung;
And prayer, man's rational prerogative,

Runs through blind channels of an unknown tongue.

The shrouded Body to the Soul's command
Answers with more than Indian fortitude,

Through all her nerves with finer sense endued, Till breath departs in blissful aspiration:

Then, 'mid the ghastly ruins of the fire,

Behold the unalterable heart entire,

Emblem of faith untouched, miraculous attestation! *

XXXVI.

GENERAL VIEW OF THE TROUBLES OF THE REFORMATION.

AID, glorious Martyrs, from your fields of light, Our mortal ken! Inspire a perfect trust (While we look round) that Heaven's decrees are just:

Which few can hold committed to a fight

That shows, even on its better side, the might

Of proud Self-will, Rapacity, and Lust, 'Mid clouds enveloped of polemic dust,

Which showers of blood seem rather to incite

Than to allay. Anathemas are hurled

From both sides; veteran thunders (the brute test Of truth) are met by fulminations new,

* For the belief in this fact, see the contemporary Historians.