 | The Poetical Works of Aubrey De Vere |  |
XIX. GRACE DIEU.
When Francis Beaumont wandered in old timeBeside that stream which throws, as then it threw,
A music sweeter than the poet's rhyme
O'er the grey ruins of ‘forlorn Grace Dieu,’
How oft, while bat and owl around them flew,
Mourned the great Bard that blood-stained Monarch's crime;
How often yearned to hear that convent chime
Which, century after century, shook the dew
From Charnwood's forest branches eve and dawn!
De Lisle! God's Grace it was thy heart that stirred!
All praise to Him, the Angelus is heard
Once more from hill and woodland, crag and lawn:
And yon Cistercian abbey on the height
Once more ‘with psalms resoundeth, and the chaunted rite.’
| The Poetical Works of Aubrey De Vere | |