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To the neat mansion,' where, bis Flock among,
The learned Pastor dwells, their watchful Lord.
Though meek and patient as a sheathed sword,
Though pride's least lurking thought appear a wrong
"To human kind; though peace be on his tongue,
Gentleness in his heart; can earth afford
Such genuine state, pre-eminence so free,
As when, arrayed in Christ's authority,
He from the Pulpit lifts his awful hand;
Conjures, implores, and labours all he can
For re-subjecting to divine command
The stubborn spirit of rebellious Man?

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Yes, if the intensities of hope and fear
Attract us still, and passionate exercise
Of lofty thoughts, the way before us lies
Distinct with signs-through which, in fixed career,
As trouglo a zodiac, moves the ritual year
Of England's Church-stupendous mysteries!
Which whoso travels in her bosom, eyes
As he approaches them, with solemn chcer.
Enough for us to cast a transient glance
The circle through; relinquishing its story
For those whom Ileaven hath filted to advance,
And, harp in hand, rehearse the King of Glory-
From his mild advent till his countenance
Shall dissipate the seas and mountains hoary.

From Little down to Least-in due degree,
Around the Pastor, each in new-wrought vest,
Each with a vernal posy at his breast,
We stood, a trembling, earnest Company!
With low soft murmur, like a distant bee,
Some spake, by thought-perplexing fears betrayed ;
And some a bold unerring answer made ;
How fluttered then thy anxious heart for me,
Beloved Mother! Thou whose happy hand
llad bound the flowers I wore, with faithful tie:
Sweet flowers ! at whose inaudible command
Her countenance, pliantom-like, doth re-appear :
O lost too early for the frequent tear,
And ill required by this heart-felt sigh!

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Toe Young-ones gathered in from hill and dale,
Blest be the Church, that, watching o'er the necds

With holiday delight on every brow: Of Infancy, provides a timely shower,

*T is passed away; far other thoughts prevail ; Whose virtue changes to a Christian Flower

For they are taking the baptismal Vow

Upon their conscious selves; their own lips speak Among the benefits arising, as Mr Coleridge bas well observed | The solemn promise. Strongest sinews fail, from a Church Establishment of endowments corresponding with And many a blooming, many a lovely cheek the wealth of the country to which it belongs, may be reckoned, as eminently important, the examples of civility and refinement which

Under the holy fear of God turns pale, the Clergy, stationed at intervals, afford to the whole peoplo. The While on each head his lawn-robed Servaot lags established Clergy in many parts of England have long been, as they | An apostolic hand, and with prayer seals continue to be, the principal bulwark against barbarism, and the

The Covenant. The Omnipotent will raise link which unites the sequestered Peasantry with the intellectual advancement of tho age. "Nor is it below tho dignity of the sabjoct Their feeble Souls ; and bear with his regrets, 10 observe that their Taste, as acting upon rural Residences and Who, looking round the fair assemblage, feels scenery, often furnishes models which Country Gentlemen, who aro That ere the Sun goes down their childhood sets. more at liberty to follow the caprices of Fashion, might profit by. The precincts of an old residence must be treated by Ecclesiastics with respect, both from prudence and necessity. I remember being much pleased, some years ago, at Rose Castle, the Rural Seat of the Soo of Carlisle, with a style of Garden and Architecture, which, if

CONFIRMATION CONTINUED. the Place had belonged to a wealthy Layman, would no doubt have been swept away. A Parsonage-house generally stands not far from I saw a Mother's eye intensely bent the Church; this proximity imposes favourable restraints, and Upon a Maiden trembling as she koelt; sometimes suggests an affecting union of the accommodations and

In and for whom the pious Mother felt elegancios of life with the outward signs of piety and mortality.With pleasure I rocal to mind a bappy instance of this in the Best Things that we judge of by a light too faint, Jence of an old and much-valued friend in Oxfordshire. The House Tell, if ye may, some star-crowned Muse, or Saiut! and Church stand parallel to each other, at a small distance; a cir- Tell what rushed in, from what she was relieved cular lawn, or rather grass-plot, spreads between them; shrubs and Then, when her Child the hallowing conch received, trees carve from each side of the Dwelling, veiling, but not biding

the Church. From the front of this Dwelling, no part of ibu Burial And such vibration to the Mother went
| Ground is seen ; but, as you wind by the side of the Shrubs towards That tears burst forth amaio. Did gleams appear,

the Steeple end of the Church, the eye caubes a single, small, low, Opened a vision of that blissful place
monumental head-stone, moss-grown, sinking into, and gently in-
clining towards, the earth. Advance, and the Churchyard, populous Part of her lost One's glory back to trace

Where dwells a Sister-child? And was power given
and gay with glittering Tombstones, opens upon the view. This
humble and beautiful Parsonago called forth a tribute, for which see Even to this Rite? For thus She knelt, and, ere
A Personage in Oxfordshire,« in Miscellaneous Sonnets.

The Summer-leaf had faded, passed to Heaven.



The longest date do melt like frosty rime,

| That in the morning whitened hill and plain By chain yet stronger must the Soul be tied:

And is no more; drop like the tower sublime Ode duty more, last stage of this ascent,

Of yesterday, which royally did wear Brings to thy food, memorial Sacrament!

Its crown of weeds, but could not even sustain The Offspring, haply at the Parents' side ;

Some casual shout that broke the silent air,
But not till They, with all that do abide

Or the unimaginable touch of Time.
In Heaven, have lifted up their hearts to laud
And magnify the glorious name of God,
Fountain of Grace, whose Son for Sinners died.
Here must my Song in timid reverence pause :

But shrink pot ye whom to the saving rite

Monastic Domes! following my downward way, The Altar calls; come carly under laws

Untouched by due regret i marked your fall! That can secure for you a path of light

Now, ruin, beauty, ancient stillness, all
Through gloomiest shade; put on (nor dread its weight) Dispose to judgments temperate as we lay
Armour divine, and conquer in your cause !

On our past selves in life's declining day:
For as, by discipline of Time made wise,

We learn to tolerate the infirmities

And faults of others, gently as he may

Towards our own the mild Instructor deals, CONTENT with calmer scenes around us spread

Teaching us to forget them or forgive." And bumbler objects, give we to a day

Perversely curious, then, for hidden ill Of aboual joy one tributary lay;

Why should we break Time's charitable seals ? This day when, forth by rustic music led, The village Children, while the sky is red

Once ye were holy, ye are holy still;
With evening lights, advance in long array

Your spirit freely let me drink and live!
Through the still Church-yard, each with garland gay,
Thal, carried scepire-like, o'ertops the head
Of the proud Bearer. To the wide Church-door,

EMIGRANT FRENCH CLERGY, Charged with these offerings which their Fathers bore

Even while I speak, the sacred roofs of France For decoration in the Papal time,

Are shattered into dust; and self-exiled The innocent procession softly moves :

From Altars threatened, levelled, or defiled, The spirit of Laud is pleased in Heaven's pure clime,

Wander the Ministers of God, as chance
And flooker's voice the spectacle approves !

Opens a way for life, or consonance
Of Faith invites. More welcome to no land

The fugitives than to the British strand,

Where Priest and Layman with the vigilance Would that our scrupulous Sires had dared to leave Of true compassion greet them. Creed and test Less scanty measure of those graceful rites

Vanish before the unreserved embrace And usages, whose due relurn invites

Of Catholic humanity:-istrest A stir of miod loo natural to deceive;

They came, -and, while the moral tempest roars Giving the Memory help when she would weave Throughout the Country they have left, our shores A crown for Hope! I dread the boasted lights

Give to their Faith a dreadless resting-place.
That all too often are but fiery blights,
hilling the bud o'er which in vain we grieve.
Go, seck when Christmas snows discomfort bring

The counter Spirit, found in some gay Church
Green with fresh Holly, every pew a perch

Taus all things lead to Charity-secured
Jo which the lignet or the thrush might sing,

By THEM who blessed the soft and happy gale

That landward urged the great Deliverer's sail, Merry and loud, and safe from prying search,

Till in the sunny bay his fleet was moored!
Strains offered only to the genial Spring.

Propitious hour! had we, like them, endured
Sore stress of apprehension, with a mind

Sickened by injuries, dreading worse designed,

From month to month trembling and wassured, From low to high doth dissolution climb,

How had we then rejoiced! But we have felt, And sinks from high to low, along a scale

As a loved substance, their futurity; Of awful poles, wiose concord shall not fail;

Good, which they dared not hope for, we have seen; A rousica but melancholy clime,

A State whose generous will througla earth is dealt; Which they can hear who meddle not with crime, A State-which, balancing herself between Noravarice, nor over-anxious carc.

Licence and slavish order, dares be free. Truth fails not; but her outward forms that bear

* This is borrowed from an affecting passage in Mr George Dyer's 'This is still continued in many Churches in Westmorland. It listory of Cambridge, takes place in the month of July, when the floor of the Stalls See Burnet, wbo is unusually animated on this subject: the is otrows with fresh rashes; aod bence it is onlled the Rusli-bear- cast wind, so aoxiously expected and prayed for, was called the

Protestant wind..

NEW CHURCHES. But liberty, and triumphs on the Main, And laurelled Armies- not to be withstood, What serve they? if, on transitory good Intent, and sedulous of abject gain, The state (ah surely not preserved in vain!) Forbear to shape due channels which the Flood Of sacred Truth may enter till it brood O'er the wide realm, as o'er the Egyptian Plain The all-sustaining Nile. No more-the time Is conscious of her want; through England's bounds, lo rival haste, the wished-for Temples rise ! I hear their sabbath bells' harmonious chime Float on the breeze-the heavenliest of all sounds That hill or vale prolongs or multiplies !


CHURCH TO BE ERECTED. Be this the chosen site;—the virgin sod, Moistened from age to age by dewy eve, Shall disappear-and grateful earth receive The corner-stone from hands that build to God. Yon reverend hawthorns, hardened to the rod Of winter storms, yet budding chcerfully; Those forest oaks of Druid memory, Shall long survive, to shelter the Abode Of genuine Faith. Where, haply, 'mid this band Of daisies, Shepherds sale of

But infinite its grasp of joy and woe!
Hopes, fears, in never-ending ebb and flow-
The spousal trembling-and the « dust to dust -
The prayers, the contrite struggle, and the trust
That to the Almighty Father looks through all!

Open your Gates, ye everlasting Piles!
Types of the Spiritual Church which God hath reared;
Not loth we quit the newly-hallowed sward
And humble altar, mid your sumptuous aisles
To kneel-or thrid your intricate delles-
Or down the nave to pace in motion slow;
Watching, with upward eye, the call tower grow
And mount, at every step, with living wiles
Instinctto rouse the heart and lead the will
By a bright ladder to the world above.
Open your Gates, ye Monuments of love
Divine ! thou Lincoln, on thy sovereign hill!
Thou, stately York ! and Ye, whose splendours cheer
Isis and Cam, to patient Science dear!


and wove
May-garlands, let the holy Altar stand
For kneeling adoration; while-above,
Broods, visibly pourtrayed, the mystic Dove,
That shall protect from Blasphemy the land.


Tax not the royal Saint with vain expense,
With ill-matched aims the Architect who planned,
Albeit labouring for a scanty band
Of white-robed Scholars only, this immense
And glorious Work of fine Intelligence!
Give all thou canst; high Heaven rejects the lore
Of nicely-calculated less or more;
So deemed the Man who fashioned for the sense
These lofty pillars, spread that branching roof
Self-poised, and scooped into ten thousand cells,
Where light and shade repose, wbere music dwells
Lingering-and wandering on as loth to die;
Like thoughts whose very sweetness yieldeth proof
That they were boru for immortality.

Mine ear has rung, my spirit sunk subdued,
Sharing the strong emotion of the crowd,
When each pale brow to dread hosannas bowed
While clouds of incense mounting veiled the rood,
That glimmered like a pine-tree dimly viewed
Through Alpine vapours. Such appalling rite
Our Church prepares not, trusting to the might
Of simple truth with grace divine imbued;
Yet will we not conceal the precious Cross,
Like Men ashamed:' the Sun with his first smile
Shall greet that symbol crowning the low Pile;
And the fresh air of « incense-breathing morn'
Shall wooingly embrace it; and green moss
Creep round its arms through centuries unborn.

What awful perspective! while from our sight
With gradual stealth the lateral windows hide
Their Portraitures, their stone-work glimmers, dyed
In the soft chequerings of a sleepy light,
Martyr, or King, or sainted Eremite,
Whoe'er ye be, that thus-yourselves unseen-
Imbue your prison-bars with solemn sheen,

until ye fade with coming Night!
But, from the arms of silence-list! O list!
The music bursteth into second life;-
The notes luxuriate--every stone is kissed
By sound, or ghost of sound, in mazy strife;
Heart-thrilling strains, that cast before the eye
Of the Devout a veil of ecstasy!

Shine on,

The encircling ground, in native turf arrayed,
Is now by solemn consecration given
To social interests, and to favouring Heaven;
And where the rugged Colts their gambols played,
And wild Deer bounded through the forest glade,
Unchecked as when by merry Outlaw driven,
Shall hymns of praise resound at morn and even;
And soon, full soon, the lonely Sexton's spade
Shall wound the tender sod. Encincture small,

The Lutherans have retained the Cross within their Churches ; it is to be regroited that we have not done the same.

They dreamt not of a perishable home
Who thus could build. Be mine, in hours of fear
Or groveling thought, to seek a refuge here;

Or through the aisles of Westminster to roam;
Where bubbles burst, and folly's dancing foam
Melts, if it cross the threshold; where the wreath
Of awe-struck wisdom droops: or let my path
Lead to that younger Pile, whose sky-like dome
Hath typified by reach of daring art
Infinity's embrace; whose guardian crest,
The silent Cross, among the stars shall spread
As now, when she hath also seen her breast
Filled with mementos, satiate with its part
Of grateful England's overflowing Dead.

Along the nether region's rugged frame!
Earth prompts—Heaven urges; let us seek the light
Studious of that pure intercourse begun
When first our infant brows their lustre won;
So, like the Mountain, may we grow more bright
From unimpeded commerce with the Sun,
At the approach of all-involving night.

GLORY to God! and to the Power who came
Jo filial duty, clothed with love divine;
That made his human tabernacle shine
Like Ocean burning with purpureal flame;
Or like the Alpine Mount, that takes its name
From roseate hues, ' far kenned at morn and even,
In hours of peace, or when the storm is driven

Way sleeps the future, as a snake enrolled,
Coil within coil, at noon-tide? For the WORD
Yields, if with unpresumptuous faith explored,
Power at whose touch the sluggard shall unfold
His drowsy rings. Look forth! that stream behold,
Trar STREAM upon whose bosom we have passed
Floating at ease while nations have effaced
Nations, and Death has gathered to bis fold
Long lines of mighty Kings- look forth, my Soul !
(Nor in this vision be thou slow to trust)
The living Waters, less and less by guilt
Stained and polluted, brighten as they roll,
Til they have reached the Eternal City-built
For the perfected Spirits of the just!

"Some say that Monte Rosa takes its name from a belt of rock at its summit-a very unpoetical, and scarcely a probable suppositios.

The White Doe of Rylstone; (1)


They thai deny a God, destroy Man's nobility: for certainly Man is of kinn to the Beasts by bis Body;

and if he be pot of kion to God by his Spirit, be is a baso iguoble Creature. It destroys likewise
Nognanimity, and the raising of humane Nature : for take an example of a Doge, and mark what a
fonerosity and courage be will put on, when he finds himself maintained by a man, who to him is
instead of a God, or Melior Natura. Which courage is manifestly such, as that Creature without that
confidence of a better Nature than his own could never attain. So Man, when he resteth and assureth
himself opon Divine protection and favour, gathereth a force and faith which human Nature in itself
could not obtain.



Meek as that emblem of her lowly heart
The milk-white Lamb which in a line she led, -

And faithful, loyal in her innocence,
DURING the Summer of 1807, the Author visited, for Like the brave Lion slain in her defence.
the first time, the beautiful scenery that surrounds
Bolton Priory, in Yorkshire; and the Poem of the Notes could we hear as of a faery shell
Wuite Dor, founded upon a Tradition connected with

Attuned to words with sacred wisdom fraught; the place, was composed at the close of the same year. Free Fancy prized each specious miracle,

And all its finer inspiration caught; In trellised shed with clustering roses gay,

Till, in the bosom of our rustic Cell, And, Maar! oft beside our blazing fire,

We by a lamentable change were taught When years of wedded life were as a day

That « bliss with mortal Man may not abide : »Whose current answers to the heart's desire,

llow nearly joy and sorrow are allied ! Did we together read in Spenser's Lay How Uoa, sad of soul-in sad attire,

For us the stream of fiction ceased to flow, The gentle Una, born of heavenly birth,

For us the voice of melody was mute. To seek her Knubt went wanderioz o'er the earth. But, as soft gales dissolve the dreary snow,

And give the timid herbage leave to shool, Ah, then, Beloved! pleasing was the smart,

Heaven's breathing influence failed not to bestow And the tear precious in compassion shed

A timely promise of unlooked-for fruit, For Her, who, pierced by sorrow's thrilling dari, Fair fruit of pleasure and serene content Did meekly bear the pang unmerited;

From blossoms wild of fancies innocent.

It soothed us-it beguiled us—then, to hear
Once more of troubles wrought by magic spell;
And griefs whose aery motion comes not near
The pangs that tempt the Spirit to rebel;
Then, with mild Una in her sober cheer,
High over hill and low adown the dell
Again we wandered, willing to partake
All that she suffered for her dear Lord's sake.

That ancient voice which wont to call
To mass or some high festival;
And in the shattered fabric's heart
Remaineth oge protected part;
A rural Chapel, neatly dresi, (3)
In covert like a little nest;
And thither young and old repair,
This Sabbath-day, for praise and prayer.

Then, too, this Song of mine once more could please,
Where anguish, strange as dreams of restless sleep,
Is tempered and allayed by sympathies
Aloft ascending, and descending deep,
Even to the inferior Kinds; whoin forest trees
Protect from beating sunbeams, and the sweep
Of the sharp winds;-fair Creatures ! - to whom Heaven
A calm and sinless life, with love, hath given.

Fast the church-yard fills;-anon Look again, and they all are gone; The cluster round the porch, and the foik Who sate in the shade of the Prior's Oak! (4) And scarcely have they disappeared Ere the prelusive hymn is heard :With one consent the people rejoice, Filling the church with a lofty voice! They sing a service which they feel : For 't is the sun-rise now of zeal, And faith and hope are in their prime, In great Eliza's golden time.

This tragic Story cheered us: for it speaks
Of female patience winning firm repose;
And of the recompense which conscience seeks
A bright, encouraging example shows;
Needful when o'er wide realms the tempest breaks,
Needful amid life's ordinary woes;
Hence, not for them unfitted who would bless
A happy hour with holier happiness.

He serves the Muses erringly and ill,
Whose aim is pleasure light and fugitive :
O, that my mind were equal to fulfil
The comprehensive mandate which they give-
Vain aspiration of an earnest will!
Yet in this moral Strain a power may live,
Beloved Wife! such solace to impart
As it hath yielded to thy tender heart.


A moment ends the fervent din, And all is hushed, without and within ; For though the priest, more tranquilly, Recites the holy liturgy, The only voice which you can hear Is the river murmuring near. -When soft!--the dusky trees between, And down the path through the open green, Where is no living thing to be seen; And through yon gateway, where is found, Beneath the arch with ivy bound, Free entrance to the church-yard ground; And right across the verdant sod Towards the very house of God; -Comes gliding in with lovely gleam, Comes gliding in serene and slow, Soft and silent as a dream, A solitary Doe! White she is as lily of June, And beauteous as the silver moon When out of sight the clouds are driven, And she is left alone in heaven; Or like a ship some gentle day In sunshine sailing far away, A glittering ship, that hath the plain Of ocean for her own domain.


From Bolton's old monastic tower (2)
The bells ring loud with gladsome power;
The sun is bright; the fields are gay
With people in their best array
Of stole and doublet, hood and scarf,
Along the banks of crystal Wharf,
Through the Vale retired and lowly,
Trooping to that summons holy.
And, up among the moorlands, see
What sprinklings of blithe company!
Of lasses and of shepherd grooms,
That down the steep hills force their way,
Like cattle through the budded brooms;
Path, or no path, what care they?
And thus in joyous mood they hie
To Bolton's mouldering Priory.

What would they there?-Full fifty years
That sumptuous Pile, with all its peers,
Too harshly hath been doomed to taste
The bitterness of wrong and waste :
Its courts are ravaged; but the tower
Is standing with a voice of power,

Lie silent in your graves, ye dead! Lic quiet in your church-yard bed! Ye living, lend your holy cares; Ye multilude, pursue your prayers; And blame not me if my heart and sight Are occupied with one delight! "T is a work for sabbath hours JE I with this bright Creature go, Whether she be of forest bowers, From the bowers of earth below; Or a Spirit, for one day given, A gift of grace from purest heaven.

What harmonious pensive changes Wait upon her as she ranges Round and through this Pile of state, Overthrown and desolate!

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