IF life were slumber on a bed of down, | |
| Toil unimposed, vicissitude unknown, | |
| Sad were our lot: no hunter of the hare | |
| Exults like him whose javelin from the lair | |
| Has roused the lion; no one plucks the rose, | 5 |
| Whose proffered beauty in safe shelter blows | |
| Mid a trim garden’s summer luxuries, | |
| With joy like his who climbs, on hands and knees, | |
| For some rare plant, yon headland of St. Bees. | |
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| This independence upon oar and sail, | 10 |
| This new indifference to breeze or gale, | |
| This straight-lined progress, furrowing a flat lea, | |
| And regular as if locked in certainty, | |
| Depress the hours. Up, spirit of the storm! | |
| That courage may find something to perform; | 15 |
| That fortitude, whose blood disdains to freeze | |
| At danger’s bidding, may confront the seas, | |
| Firm as the towering headlands of St. Bees. | |
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| Dread cliff of Baruth! that wild wish may sleep, | |
| Bold as if men and creatures of the deep | 20 |
| Breathed the same element; too many wrecks | |
| Have struck thy sides, too many ghastly decks | |
| Hast thou looked down upon, that such a thought | |
| Should here be welcome, and in verse enwrought: | |
| With thy stern aspect better far agrees | 25 |
| Utterance of thanks, that we have past with ease, | |
| As millions thus shall do, the headlands of St. Bees. | |
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| Yet, while each useful art augments her store, | |
| What boots the gain if nature should lose more? | |
| And wisdom, as she holds a Christian place | 30 |
| In man’s intelligence sublimed by grace? | |
| When Bega sought of yore the Cumbrian coast, | |
| Tempestuous winds her holy errand crossed: | |
| She knelt in prayer,—the waves their wrath appease; | |
| And from her vow, well weighed in Heaven’s decrees, | 35 |
| Rose, where she touched the strand, the Chantry of St. Bees. | |
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| “Cruel of heart were they, bloody of hand,” | |
| Who in these wilds then struggled for command; | |
| The strong were merciless, without hope the weak; | |
| Till this bright stranger came, fair as daybreak, | 40 |
| And as a cresset true that darts its length | |
| Of beamy lustre from a tower of strength; | |
| Guiding the mariner through troubled seas, | |
| And cheering oft his peaceful reveries, | |
| Like the fixed light that crowns yon headland of St. Bees. | 45 |
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| To aid the votaress, miracles believed | |
| Wrought in men’s minds, like miracles achieved; | |
| So piety took root; and song might tell | |
| What humanizing virtues near her cell | |
| Sprang up, and spread their fragrance wide around; | 50 |
| How savage bosoms melted at the sound | |
| Of gospel truth enchained in harmonies | |
| Wafted o’er waves, or creeping through close trees, | |
| From her religious mansion of St. Bees. | |
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| When her sweet voice, that instrument of love, | 55 |
| Was glorified, and took its place, above | |
| The silent stars, among the angelic choir, | |
| Her Chantry blazed with sacrilegious fire, | |
| And perished utterly; but her good deeds | |
| Had sown the spot that witnessed them with seeds | 60 |
| Which lay in earth expectant, till a breeze | |
| With quickening impulse answered their mute pleas, | |
| And lo! a statelier pile, the Abbey of St. Bees. | |
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| There are the naked clothed, the hungry fed; | |
| And Charity extendeth to the dead | 65 |
| Her intercessions made for the soul’s rest | |
| Of tardy penitents; or for the best | |
| Among the good (when love might else have slept, | |
| Sickened, or died) in pious memory kept. | |
| Thanks to the austere and simple devotees, | 70 |
| Who, to that service bound by venial fees, | |
| Keep watch before the altars of St. Bees. | |
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| Are not, in sooth, their requiems sacred ties | |
| Woven out of passion’s sharpest agonies, | |
| Subdued, composed, and formalized by art, | 75 |
| To fix a wiser sorrow in the heart? | |
| The prayer for them whose hour is past away | |
| Says to the living, Profit while ye may! | |
| A little part, and that the worst, he sees, | |
| Who thinks that priestly cunning holds the keys | 80 |
| That best unlock the secrets of St. Bees. | |
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| Conscience, the timid being’s inmost light, | |
| Hope of the dawn and solace of the night, | |
| Cheers these recluses with a steady ray | |
| In many an hour when judgment goes astray. | 85 |
| Ah! scorn not hastily their rule who try | |
| Earth to despise and flesh to mortify, | |
| Consume with zeal, in wingéd ecstasies | |
| Of prayer and praise forget their rosaries, | |
| Nor hear the loudest surges of St. Bees. | 90 |
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| Yet none so prompt to succor and protect | |
| The forlorn traveller, or sailor wrecked | |
| On the bare coast; nor do they grudge the boon | |
| Which staff and cockle hat and sandal shoon | |
| Claim for the pilgrim: and, though chidings sharp | 95 |
| May sometimes greet the strolling minstrel’s harp, | |
| It is not then when, swept with sportive ease, | |
| It charms a feast-day throng of all degrees, | |
| Brightening the archway of revered St. Bees. | |
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| How did the cliffs and echoing hills rejoice | 100 |
| What time the Benedictine Brethren’s voice, | |
| Imploring, or commanding with meet pride, | |
| Summoned the chiefs to lay their feuds aside, | |
| And under one blest ensign serve the Lord | |
| In Palestine. Advance, indignant Sword! | 105 |
| Flaming till thou from Painim hands release | |
| That tomb, dread centre of all sanctities | |
| Nursed in the quiet Abbey of St. Bees. | |
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| But look we now to them whose minds from far | |
| Follow the fortunes which they may not share. | 110 |
| While in Judæa fancy loves to roam, | |
| She helps to make a Holy Land at home: | |
| The Star of Bethlehem from its sphere invites | |
| To sound the crystal depth of maiden rights; | |
| And wedded life, through Scriptural mysteries, | 115 |
| Heavenward ascends with all her charities, | |
| Taught by the hooded celibates of St. Bees. | |
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| Nor be it e’er forgotten how by skill | |
| Of cloistered architects, free their souls to fill | |
| With love of God, throughout the land were raised | 120 |
| Churches, on whose symbolic beauty gazed | |
| Peasant and mail-clad chief with pious awe; | |
| As at this day men seeing what they saw, | |
| Or the bare wreck of faith’s solemnities, | |
| Aspire to more than earthly destinies; | 125 |
| Witness yon pile that greets us from St. Bees. | |
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| Yet more; around those churches gathered towns | |
| Safe from the feudal castle’s haughty frowns; | |
| Peaceful abodes, where justice might uphold | |
| Her scales with even hand, and culture mould | 130 |
| The heart to pity, train the mind in care | |
| For rules of life, sound as the time could bear. | |
| Nor dost thou fail, through abject love of ease, | |
| Or hindrance raised by sordid purposes, | |
| To bear thy part in this good work, St. Bees. | 135 |
| |
| Who with the ploughshare clove the barren moors, | |
| And to green meadows changed the swampy shores? | |
| Thinned the rank woods; and for the cheerful grange | |
| Made room where wolf and boar were used to range? | |
| Who taught, and showed by deeds, that gentler chains | 140 |
| Should bind the vassal to his lord’s domains? | |
| The thoughtful monks, intent their God to please, | |
| For Christ’s dear sake, by human sympathies | |
| Poured from the bosom of thy church, St. Bees! | |
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| But all availed not; by a mandate given | 145 |
| Through lawless will, the brotherhood was driven | |
| Forth from their cells; their ancient house laid low | |
| In Reformation’s sweeping overthrow. | |
| But now once more the local heart revives, | |
| The inextinguishable spirit strives. | 150 |
| O, may that Power who hushed the stormy seas, | |
| And cleared a way for the first votaries, | |
| Prosper the new-born College of St. Bees! | |
| |
| Alas! the genius of our age from schools | |
| Less humble draws her lessons, aims, and rules. | 155 |
| To prowess guided by her insight keen | |
| Matter and spirit are as one machine; | |
| Boastful idolatress of formal skill, | |
| She in her own would merge the Eternal Will: | |
| Better, if reason’s triumphs match with these, | 160 |
| Her flight before the bold credulities | |
| That furthered the first teaching of St. Bees. | |
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