The poetical works of Robert Stephen Hawker Edited from the original manuscripts and annotated copies together with a prefatory notice and bibliography by Alfred Wallis |
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“DOWN WITH THE CHURCH.”
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 | The poetical works of Robert Stephen Hawker |  |
“DOWN WITH THE CHURCH.”
AN ELECTIONEERING CRY.
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An electioneering song, written when Sir R. Vyvyan and Sir C. Lemon were standing for East Cornwall.
Shall the grey tower in ruin spread?
And must the furrow hold your dead?
Our best-belovèd are at rest,
Their cold hands folded on their breast,—
Spring's placid flowers their ashes hide,
And we shall slumber at their side.
And must the furrow hold your dead?
Our best-belovèd are at rest,
Their cold hands folded on their breast,—
Spring's placid flowers their ashes hide,
And we shall slumber at their side.
Shall the grey tower in ruin bow?
Must the babe die with nameless brow?
Or common hands in mockery fling
The unbless'd waters of the spring?
Where will the dove-like spirit rest
When yon old Church shall close her breast?
Must the babe die with nameless brow?
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The unbless'd waters of the spring?
Where will the dove-like spirit rest
When yon old Church shall close her breast?
Shall the grey tower in silence stand
When the heart thrills within the hand,
And beauty's lip to youth hath given
The vow on Earth that links for Heaven?
Shall no glad peal from churchyard grey
Cheer the young matron's homeward way?
When the heart thrills within the hand,
And beauty's lip to youth hath given
The vow on Earth that links for Heaven?
Shall no glad peal from churchyard grey
Cheer the young matron's homeward way?
Yes! by the heart of England's pride
Still beating on the mountain side!
Yes! by the spirit of former men,
That slumbers in each Cornish glen!
The cry of triumph yet shall ring—
The Vyvyan-cry—“Our Church and King!”
Still beating on the mountain side!
Yes! by the spirit of former men,
That slumbers in each Cornish glen!
The cry of triumph yet shall ring—
The Vyvyan-cry—“Our Church and King!”
Fair dame! the babe that climbs thy knee
Would lift its lisping voice to thee.
Maiden! with fond one at thy side—
Tell! by the holy name of Bride!
Mourner! by that beneath the pall!—
Shall the grey tower in ruin fall?
Would lift its lisping voice to thee.
Maiden! with fond one at thy side—
Tell! by the holy name of Bride!
Mourner! by that beneath the pall!—
Shall the grey tower in ruin fall?
No! though the sweat of faction reek
On each reformer's clammy cheek,
No! though the voice of discord rend
The stately towers that none shall bend,
No! while the Cornish cry can ring—
The Vyvyan-cry—“Our Church and King!”
On each reformer's clammy cheek,
No! though the voice of discord rend
The stately towers that none shall bend,
No! while the Cornish cry can ring—
The Vyvyan-cry—“Our Church and King!”
May 2nd, 1831.
| The poetical works of Robert Stephen Hawker | |