THE STAKE. 
And heaven’s bright lamps burning yonder 
Only light me on to thee. 
By the love of passionate years ! 
By the grief that hath no tears ! 
By the memories unsleeping, 
In my heart their vigil keeping ; 
Of an angel wing departing, 
A good spirit upward starting ; 
A minist’ring form that had watched o’er me, 
Vanishing in thin air before me ! 
Fairest of the many gates 
At which death’s dark seraph waits, 
(The invisible gates, that lie 
Undiscern’d of human eye), 
Portal of eternity ! 
Mine thou art, and thou shalt be: 
Unfold thy bright arch to me! 
Vain quest! idly to beseech 
That which it may never reach ! 
Holy must the footstep be, 
And the heart from shadow free 
Of earth’s shrines of imagery, 
That to heaven would enter through thee. 
*Holy were the martyred dead, 
Holy were the lives they led ; 
And no unholy step may tread 
In the path that leadeth to thee. 
Worcester’s aged head hath pass’d thee, 
London’s shadow hath o’ercast thee ; 
And sad Canterbury, grieving 
For an evil hour’s achieving, 
Underneath thine arch of flame 
Hath taken shelter from the shame, 
The remorseful agony, 
Of a wrung heart’s deep repenting, 
For a faint will’s brief consenting ; 
The unsteady step lamenting 
That had turned aside from thee. 
* First Chapter of the First Epistle of St. Peter, verses 15, 16. 
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