pride's pictures. 227 



In that arena, Martyrdom grew pale 



When red Catholicy — Pride's deep-died sin — 

 Rode, with his thundering pinions, on the gale. 



And Smithfield heard the Stake's infuriate din : — 



When perished Cranmer, and that steadfast man,— - 

 Who never knelt 'fore Pride's most lep'rous crew— 



(Deny me if ye may — Rome's lettered clan) 

 Then Papal dogmas beggared Pride, and you. 



And never more — while our fine people pray. 



Shall Heaven let faU its sanction of thy creed : 

 The vast intelligence of mental day. 



Resplendent, flings Truth's brightness o'er Time's speed. 



Like Aaron's Rod, the lightning points to thee, 



Worthy and pious man of God, and sense : 

 And thou the ornament of Lambeth's see. 



While I to knowledge have but small pretence. 



Would that each minister of heavenly grace 



Possessed the spirit purely sanctified : 

 Then might we hope to see Faith's sacred place 



The house of God indeed — the hell of Pride. 



E'en while my wakeful eyes — two orbs of light- 

 Fix them on objects by the world admired : 



And Nature fires the tapistry of night — • 



My thoughts perchance, may be e'en now inspired :— 



Turn we to where the Abbey of our sires 



Lifts up her towers, with solemn grandeur, there. 



While the dumb stars drop wisdom on its spires. 

 Above the mighty dead that slumber there. 



Thus let me pass St. Stephen's antique door : 

 And pause — to ponder o'er the rugged rhyme : 



Which Pride's tall carved columns long have boie: 

 Forgetful of the sweeping wings of time. 



Here — lies a Poet, who sublimed our isles. 



And made them laugh and sing for virtue's sake : 



There — rests a Patriot, lured by Pride's vain .'miles, 

 Who well preferred the lancet — to the stake. 



Below — a Warrior : name it not in Gath : 



My heart doth bleed, and still shall bleed to feel 



What Pride can never /eel, and mine too often hath'->T 

 A nanoeless liorror of war's trenchant steel. 



