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Classic and Contemporary Poetry
THE MARTYRDOM OF FATHER CAMPION, by HENRY WALPOLE Poet's Biography First Line: England, look up! Thy soil is stained with blood Last Line: Hath reaped a joy, which never shall have end. Subject(s): Campion, Edmund (1540-1581) | |||
England, look up! Thy soil is stained with blood, Thou hast made martyrs many of thine own. If thou hadst Grace, their deaths would do thee good. The seed will take, which in such blood is sown, And Campion's learning, fertile so before, Thus watered too, must needs of force be more. All Europe wonders at so rare a man. England is filled with rumour of his end. London must needs, for it was present then When constantly three saints their lives did spend. The streets, the stones, the steps, they hale them by, Proclaim the cause, for which these martyrs die. The Tower says, the truth he did defend. The Bar bears witness of his guiltless mind. Tyburn doth tell, he made a patient end. In every gate his martyrdom we find. In vain you wrought, that would obscure his name, For heaven and earth will still record the same. His quartered limbs shall join with joy again, And rise a body brighter than the sun. Your bloody malice tortured him in vain, For every wrench some glory hath him won. And every drop of blood which he did spend Hath reaped a joy, which never shall have end. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A CALIFORNIA CHRISTMAS by CINCINNATUS HEINE MILLER THE NATURAL FIRE by CLIFFORD ALLEN THERE IS NOTHING STRANGE by ARCHILOCHUS THE SERAPHIM by ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING NOCTURNE by VINA BRUCE CHILTON THE FIREFLY by GEORGE HERBERT CLARKE |
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