There lift the Heav'n-denying brow,

And here in meekness bow?

There to put on the soul aggrieved,

And attitude their high deserts to claim;

Here kneel from their deserts to be relieved,

Claim nothing but the Cross, and their own shame ?

And now, behold and see

In holy place the ABOMINATION stands,

Whose breath hath desolated Christian lands,

In semblance fair,

And saint-like air,

The Antichrist of heathen liberty!

E'en on Religion's hallowed ground,

He hath his altar found;

And now ere winter's net

Is o'er thy pathway set,

Haste and arise, to Judah's mountains flee,

And drink the untainted fount of pure Antiquity."

LET US DEPART HENCE.*

CXIV.

Is there no sound about our Altars heard

Of gliding forms that long have watched in vain For slumbering discipline to break her chain, And aim the bolt by Theodosius feared?

“Let us depart ;"—these English souls are seared, Who, for one grasp of perishable gold,

Would brave the curse by holy men of old Laid on the robbers of the shrines they reared;

*

· Μεταβαίνωμεν ἔντευθεν. Among the portents which took place before the taking of Jerusalem by the Romans, the following is mentioned by Josephus: "During the Festival which is called Pentecost, the Priests, by night, having come into the inner temple to perform their services, as was their custom, they reported that they perceived, first a motion, a noise, and then they heard as it were a great crowd, saying, Let us depart hence." Vide Bishop Newton on the Prophecies, vol. ii. Dissert. 18.

Who shout for joy to see the ruffian band

Come to reform, where ne'er they came to pray.

E'en where, unbidden, Seraphs never trod.

Let us depart, and leave the apostate land

To meet the rising whirlwind as she may,

Without her guardian Angels and her God.

y.

CXV.

(Athanasian Creed.)

"SEEK We some realm where virgin souls may pray

In faith untarnished by the sophist's scorn,

And duly raise on each diviner morn

The Psalm that gathers in one glorious lay

All chants that e'er from heaven to earth found way: Majestic march! as meet to guide and time

Man's wandering path in life's ungenial clime, As Aaron's trump for the dread Ark's array. Creed of the Saints, and Anthem of the Blest, And calm-breathed warning of the kindliest love That ever heaved a wakeful mother's breast,

(True love is bold, and gravely dares reprove,) Who knows but myriads owe their endless rest To thy recalling, tempted else to rove?

"AND they who grudge the Omnipotent His praise, What wonder if they grudge the dead his hope? The irreverent restless eye finds room and scope, E'en by the grave, to wrangle, pry, and gaze. Heaven in its mercy hides, but man displays;

Heaven throws a gleam, where they would darken

all;

A shade, where they, forgetting worm and pall,
Sing triumph; they excite, but Heaven allays.
Alas, for England's mourners, if denied

The soothing tones of Hope, though faint and low,
Or swoln up high, with partial tearless pride!
Better in silence hide their dead, and go,
Than sing a hopeless dirge, or coldly chide
The faith that owns release from earthly woe.

CXVII.

(Length of the Prayers.)

"BUT Faith is cold, and wilful men are strong, And the blithe world, with bells and harness proud, Rides tinkling by, so musical and loud,

It drowns the Eternal Word, the Angelic Song;

And one by one the weary listless throng

Steals out of Church, and leaves the Choir unseen

Of winged Guards to weep, where prayer had been, That souls immortal find that hour too long. Most fatal token of a falling age!

Wit ever busy, Learning ever new,

Unsleeping Fancy, Eloquence untired ;

Prayer only dull! The Saints' and Martyrs' page
A tedious scroll; the scorned and faithful few
Left to bewail such beauty undesired."

CXVIII.

SONS of our Mother! such the indignant strain
Might haply strike, this hour, a pastor's ear,
Purged to discern, for once, the aerial train

Of heavenly Sentinels yet lingering here;

γ.