EVEN such the contrast that, where'er we move, To the mind's eye Religion doth present; Now with her own deep quietness content; Then, like the mountain, thundering from above Against the ancient pine-trees of the grove And the Land's humblest comforts. Now her mood Recalls the transformation of the flood, Whose rage the gentle skies in vain reprove; Earth cannot check. O terrible excess Of headstrong will! Can this be Piety? No -- some fierce Maniac hath usurped her name; And scourges England struggling to be free: Her peace destroyed! her hopes a wilderness! Her blessings cursed -- her glory turned to shame! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...BISHOP HATTO [AND THE RATS] by ROBERT SOUTHEY THE YOUNG CARPENTER by AL-RUSAFI SONNET: 12 by RICHARD BARNFIELD THE IMPROVISATORE: ALBERT AND EMILY by THOMAS LOVELL BEDDOES CLEVEDON VERSES: 1. HALLAM'S CHURCH by THOMAS EDWARD BROWN TO MISS FERRIER; ENCLOSING THE ELEGY ON SIR J. H. BLAIR by ROBERT BURNS THE POOLS OF PEACE by JOAN CAMPBELL STANZAS, ON PLANTING A BAY-TREE AT THE GRAVE OF CHURCHILL by JOHN CHALK CLARIS |