THE STAKE. 449 
By fire or flood, or the more slow decay 
Of wasting malady, to melt away 
Into its kindred elements: the chained 
And o’erpressed spirit, that beneath its weight 
Hath long sigh’d heavily, will homeward take 
Its glad flight but the sooner. Lonely here, 
Save for His presence, who doth stoop to make 
Light the dark dwelling of the desolate, 
It matters not unto me by which gate 
Of exit from this dark and troublous sphere, 
Thou hastenest my escape: and for the sake 
Of some deep-graven, unfaded memories, 
And for that every added sacrifice 
Ts lighting up a flame throughout the land, 
Soon to spread wider than the reckless hand 
Of tyranny can compass or allay ; 
I would choose rather the well-troddenway 
By which our prelates and confessors just 
Have pass’d into their rest, leaving their dust 
By heaven’s winds to be scatter’d; and their end 
(Link’d with the faith they perish’d to defend) 
A deathless legacy to other days, 
When our sweet England, fetterless and free 
As the glad breeze that sweeps along her sea, 
Shall see her children’s hearths and altars blaze 
With the calm lights of peace, and bless the names 
Of those who, faithful to their country’s trust, 
Their early vows made good amidst the flames. 
Were but my words the winged shafts of truth, 
Lighting up to thy time-obscured gaze 
The real and the oncoming ! 
Yet a while, 
And thy sad mistress, whose regard, in sooth, 
Is the bewildering star that doth beguile 
Thine eager steps to follow, shall be laid, 
Lonely and powerless, in the ancient shade 
Where sleep her crownéd fathers ; and the grace, 
The evanishing favour of her life’s brief space, 
Law, grant, and statute, all that she hath done, 
(In despite of the good Lord Cardinal, 
VOL. IX, NO. XXVII. 57 
