ELEGY ON NEWSTEAD ABBEY.

NEWSTEAD! fast-falling, once resplendent dome!
Religion's shrine! repentant HENRY's pride!
Of warriors, monks, and dames the cloistered tomb,
Whose pensive shades around thy ruins glide,

Hail to thy pile! more honored in thy fall
Than modern mansions in their pillared state;
Proudly majestic frowns thy vaulted hall,

Scowling defiance on the blasts of fate.

No mail-clad serfs, obedient to their lord,
In grim array the crimson cross demand;
Or gay assemble round the festive board
Their chief's retainers, an immortal band:

Else might inspiring Fancy's magic eye

Retrace their progress through the lapse of time;
Marking each ardent youth, ordained to die,
A votive pilgrim in Judea's clime.

But not from thee, dark pile! departs the chief;
His feudal realm in other regions lay:
In thee the wounded conscience courts relief,
Retiring from the garish blaze of day.

Yes, in thy gloomy cells and shades profound,
The monk abjured a world he ne'er could view ;
Or blood-stained guilt repenting solace found,
Or innocence from stern oppression flew.

A monarch bade thee from that wild arise,

Where Sherwood's outlaws once were wont to prowl; And superstition's crimes, of various dyes,

Sought shelter in the priest's protecting cowl.

Where now the grass exhales a murky dew,
The humid pall of life-extinguished clay,

In sainted fame the sacred fathers grew,

Nor raised their pious voices but to pray.

Where now the bats their wavering wings extend,
Soon as the gloaming sheds her waning shade,
The choir did oft their mingling vespers blend,
Or matin orisons to Mary paid.

Years roll on years; to ages, ages yield;
Abbots to abbots, in a line, succeed;
Religion's charter their protecting shield,
Till royal sacrilege their doom decreed.

One holy HENRY reared the Gothic walls,

And bade the pious inmates rest in peace; Another HENRY the kind gift recalls,

And bids devotion's hallowed echoes cease.

Vain is each threat or supplicating prayer;
He drives them exiles from their blest abode,
To roam a dreary world in deep despair

No friend, no home, no refuge, but their God.

Hark how the hall, resounding to the strain,
Shakes with the martial music's novel din!
The heralds of a warrior's haughty reign,

High crested banners, wave thy walls within.

Of changing sentinels the distant hum,

The mirth of feasts, the clang of burnished arms, The braying trumpet and the hoarser drum,

Unite in concert with increased alarms.

An abbey once, a regal fortress now,
Encircled by insulting rebel powers,

War's dread machines o'erhang thy threat'ning brow,
And dart destruction in sulphureous showers.

Ah vain defence! the hostile traitor's seige,
Though oft repulsed, by guile o'ercomes the brave;
His thronging foes oppress the faithful liege,
Rebellion's reeking standards o'er him wave.

Not unavenged the raging baron yields;

The blood of traitors smears the purple plain: Unconquered still, his falchion there he wields, And days of glory yet for him remain.

Still in that hour the warrior wished to strew
Self-gathered laurels on a self-sought grave;
But Charles' protecting genius thither flew,

The monarch's friend, the monarch's hope, to save.

Trembling, she snatched him from th' unequal strife, In other fields the torrent to repel;

For nobler combats, here, reserved his life,

To lead the band where godlike FALKLAND fell.

From thee, poor pile! to lawless plunder given, While dying groans their painful requiem sound, Far different incense now ascends to heaven,

Such victims wallow on the gory ground.

There many a pale and ruthless robber's corse,
Noisome and ghast, defiles thy sacred sod;
O'er mingling man, and horse commixed with horse,
Corruption's heap, the savage spoiler's trod.

Graves, long with rank and sighing weeds o'erspread;
Ransacked, resign perforce their mortal mould;
From ruffian fangs escape not e'en the dead,
Raked from repose in search for buried gold.

Hushed is the harp, unstrung the warlike lyre, The minstrel's palsied hand reclines in death: No more he strikes the quivering chords with fire, Or sings the glories of the martial wreath.

At length the sated murderers, gorged with prey,
Retire; the clamor of the fight is o'er;
Silence again resumes her awful sway,
And sable Horror guards the massy door.

Here Desolation holds her dreary court;
What satellites declare her dismal reign!
Shrieking their dirge, ill-omened birds resort,
To flit their vigils in the hoary fane.

Soon a new morn's restoring beams dispel
The clouds of anarchy from Britain's skies;

The fierce usurper seeks his native hell,
And Nature triumphs as the tyrant dies.

With storms, she welcomes his expiring groans;
Whirlwinds, responsive, greet his laboring breath;

Earth shudders as her caves receive his bones,
Loathing the offering of so dark a death.

The legal ruler now resumes the helm,

He guides through gentle seas the prow of state; Hope cheers, with wonted smiles, the peaceful realm, And heals the bleeding wounds of wearied hate.

The gloomy tenants, Newstead! of thy cells,
Howling, resign their violated nest;
Again the master on his tenure dwells,
Enjoyed, from absence, with enraptured zest.

Vassals, within thy hospitable pale,

Loudly carousing, bless their lord's return;
Culture again adorns the gladdening vale,
And matrons, once lamenting, cease to mourn.

A thousand songs on tuneful echo float,
Unwonted foliage mantles o'er the trees;
And hark! the horns proclaim a mellow note,
The hunters' cry hangs lengthening on the breeze.

Beneath their coursers' hoofs the valleys shake:
What fears, what anxious hopes, attend the chase!
The dying stag seeks refuge in the lake;
Exulting shouts announce the finished race.

Ah happy days! too happy to endure !

Such simple sports our plain forefathers knew:

No splendid vices glittered to allure:

Their joys were many, as their cares were few.

From these descending, sons to sires succeed;
Time steals along, and Death uprears his dart;
Another chief impels the foaming steed,
Another crowd pursue the panting hart.