No more these hoary Wilds, these dark'ning Groves,
To vocal Bands return the note of praise,
Whose Chiefs (as slow their long procession moves)
On the rear'd Cross with adoration gaze!.

And while to neighb'ring waves, th' unwonted show, Each parting bough, and op'ning glade reveals, The awe-struck Sailor checks the hast'ning prow, Suspends his oar, and wonders what he feels.

Thus musing, oft I pace the moss-grown Isle,

Each low-brow'd Vault, each dark Recess explore, While the bleak wind howls thro' the shatter'd Pile, Or wave hoarse-murm'ring breaks along the Shore.

No other sounds, amid these Arches heard,
The death-like Silence of their Gloom molest,
Save, the shrill plaints of some unsocial Bird,
That seeks the house of Solitude to rest.

Save, when their tinkling leaders to the shade
Of these cool grots, invite the fleecy Folds,
Where oft the sated Ox supinely laid

With lowing herds a distant converse holds !

Or where the Gothic pillar's slender form
(Unequal to th' incumbent quarry's weight)
Deserts its post, and reeling to the storm,
With sullen crash resigns its charge to Fate.

While the self-planted Oak, within confin'd, (Auxiliar to the Tempest's wild uproar) Its giant branches fluctuates to the Wind,

And rends the wall whose aid it courts no more.

Here too (Belief could old Tradition claim)

Where swells the rocky Mound in shapeless heaps, (His Name now lost, his Guilt divulg'd by Fame) Some rude Dismantler of this Abbey sleeps.

Long, long in thought the patient Earth he curs'd
That bore the Fabric's then unbroken Spires;
Long wish'd the pow'r to bid Volcanos burst,
Or call from Heav'n thought-executing fires.

"Wide wave (he cry'd) all bright with golden Grain The neighb'ring vales, while this proud cumbrous Mass

For many a barren furlong chills the plain,

And draws with idle zeal the Crowds that pass :

"No more the Vot'ries of each time-shook pile, As Ruin's heirs, shall call these shades their own; For blazon'd Arms explore the pageant Isle,

Or search dark registers of faithless stone."

He spoke-resolv'd.-The menac'd Arches frown'd, The conscious walls in sudden Conflict join'd, Crush'd the pale Wretch in one promiscuous wound, And left this Monument of Wrath behind.

Scenes such as these, with salutary change,

O'er flatt'ring Life their melancholy cast; Teach the free thoughts on wings of air to range, O'erlook the present, and recall the past!

Here pious Beadsmen, from the world retir'd,
In blissful visions wing'd their souls to Heav'n;
While future joys their sober transports fir'd,

They wept their erring days, and were forgiv❜n.

Their blameless Race succeeding, in these Cells
Ere Death impos'd the lesson, learn'd to die ;
Alike forgot, no rais'd memorial tells

In which lone spot their kindred Ashes lie!

Mute is the matin Bell, whose early call Warn'd the grey Fathers from their humble beds;

No midnight Taper gleams along the wall,

Or round the sculptur❜d Saint its radiance sheds !

No Martyr's Shrine its high-wrought gold displays
To bid the wond'ring Zealot hither roam;
No Relick here the Pilgrim's toil o'erpays,
And cheers his footsteps to a distant home!

Still Twilight now its shade advancing throws,
Faint in the West the Day's last blush is seen;
On Night's dim Front the Star of Ev❜ning glows,

And gilds with distant Beams the solemn scene.

Illusion now re-peoples all the Void,

From Death recalls the venerable Train

(Whose thoughts no more Earth's trivial cares employ'd)

To tread their ancient Bounds, and weep again.

Swift as her wish th' embody'd Shades appear, O'er paths much chang'd with doubtful step they walk;

Each eye rolls fast the visionary tear,

And list'ning Fancy thinks she hears them talk.

"Say, rev'rend Forms, in Contemplation's hours,
While Life serene its golden Current roll'd,
Did no kind warning, no prophetic pow'r
This ravag'd Mansion's future woes unfold?

"Did ye ne'er think the page of Joy would close ? Ne'er dread a Royal Plundʼrer's mighty hand? Your exil'd Order's yet unnumber'd woes,

Their Name extinguish'd, and their Rites prophan’d ?”

Silent they pass,then fading like a dream,
To seek their lone unhonor'd Graves return;
Yet fleeting they bequeath a sigh, and seem
With me these violated Groves to mourn.-

Yon parted Roofs that nod aloft in air,

The threat'ning Battlement, the rifted Tow'r, The Choir's loose fragments scatter'd round, declare, Insulting TIME, the Triumphs of thy pow'r !

Shall Man, unwarn'd, survey with prescient smile
Of long Futurity, the plann'd Abode ?
Vain Augur, turn!- -behold where sinks the Pile
A Monarch rais'd in honor of his God!

Low lies that sceptred Founder's holy head,
Whose virtues bade these friendly walls ascend;
Applauding Angels grac'd his dying bed,

And Hope's bright dawn rose cloudless on his end?

Lamented Prince! -for Mercy's task he knew,
The reins of lengthen'd Empire gently sway'd;
He rais'd the suppliant Tribe his Sire o'erthrew,
And round his Bier each grateful Convent pray'd.

Not so retir'd fell JOHN's indignant soul

For him no vows the doom of Heav'n oppos'd; Insulted Priesthood mix'd th' envenom'd Bowl, And Death his eyes in howling anguish clos'd.

Unsteady Ruler of a nation's helm!

Long struggling freedom own'd thy hard Command; Till fierce in arms thy BARONS shook the realm,

And tore THE CHARTER from thy ling'ring

hand!