XIV. The Church in Wales.
Wherefore, when I looked that it should bring forth grapes, brought it forth wild grapes?
Ancient Menevia, I must still love thee,
Nor yet is silent thy Cathedral song,
Though nought to echo back her solemn tongue,
Save the true emblems of Heav'n's constancy,
Th'unchanging mountains and unchanging Sea,
Which to each other thy deep tones prolong,
And both bear on to Heav'n. What though, among
Thine innocent nuptial feasts and household glee,
Thy harp is silenc'd in Religion's name,
And discipline become a word of blame,
Mother of love and nurse of cheerful thought,
While holiest liturgies are set at nought,
To enshrine the feverish dreams of human will,
Ancient Menevia, I must love thee still.
