The Romans look'd for altar cloth's design, In charmed looms the sunset clouds were trick'd, The Romans look'd for vestments to display, But Bernard pray'd-" Let art again be born, He paints Christ ill who paints Him not with tears.” Then after psalms and vespers all expect, The Pontiff bow'd and bade the Abbot speak. And oped the Song at that place of the lay Preluding something for the knights' behalf, He added-" Jesus, Lily for our eyes. Lo! from the midst those spikelets all of gold, Cinct with the white disposèd circlet-wise. Golden divinity in this behold, With fair Humanity pure white around Him, Christ with the crown wherewith his Mother crown'd Him. "Lily and lilies, fair perfumèd towers, And all things that be His true lilies are His birth, His words, His works, His passion hours, Joy to our sinful hearts from each is sent ; "Ah! we are poor, and yet it shall be well In hearts where we have made one lily grow— I closed both books; the double spell was o'er. My locks are filled with the drops of night. I saw a Hand, and raised my hands from thence- If there were tears, it was because I knew That Hand of love was love-pierced through and through. Then to the Frenchman's vaudeville I turn'd- Lay of the lily, dreamland of the dove! Love hath a tongue they only know who love. THE NEW ATLANTIS. ARGUMENT. I. Oxford in 1845-reading the New Atlantis of Bacon-II. Vision of the Island-III. Imaginatively applied to an idealized Oxford— IV. Oxford in 1885-Disappointment-Discord of Faith and Science in an age of Criticism—V. The inner work-the hope of reconciliation. A CITY of young life astir for fame, With generations each of three years' date,- Forty years since! Thoughts now long over-blown So question came of all things new and old, And how the Movement sped and where should lead? Some, peradventure, scorn'd, but more wax'd bold, Grave grew the talk, and golden grew the gloom; Of forms they talked that rose, as if in joy, An Oxford of a more majestic growth A Rome that sheds no blood, and makes no slaveThe perfect flower and quintessence of both, More reverent science, faith by far more brave. Faith should have broader brow and bolder eye, Faith have more liberal and lucent sky, And science end by learning how to pray. And "Hail the hour," they cried, "when each high morn England, at one, shall stand at the church gate, And vesper bells o'er all the land be borne, And Newman mould the Church, and Gladstone stamp the State." Now, when all left me, on my table lay A volume of my Bacon, where was writ By that great hand, in the evening of his day, While in the dusk white chestnut blossoms paled II. The enchanted island rose before me, drawn More beautiful than words of mine may reach; It lay magnificent in a magic dawn, And full of boscage to the foam-fringed beach. How well the city of the sons of knowledge In secret conclave of a sea so vast Earth's widest wilderness of waves ring'd roundNo mariner ever caught from any mast A glimpse or inkling of that happy ground. Yet now (such fair adventure did I win!) That I could see and hear whate'er of state Or thought, or work, or worship, was within That muse-discovered island fortunate. I saw the House of Solomon strongly stand, Where nature is the interpreter of God. The College of the Six Days' Work well call'd, Only for God's first creature, which is light. I saw the masters of the speech and pen, A temperate race, a commonwealth of kings. |