 | Songs of Religion and Life |  |
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Patrick Hamilton.
In St. Andrew's grey-towered cityOnce was done a deed unholy,
When the harsh and haughty churchman
Crushed the martyr meek and lowly.
Young was he, and gentle-thoughted,
Blood of kings flowed in his veins;
But with manly mild endurance
Stout he bore the fiery pains.
And he gave his life a priceless
Ransom, to make Scotland free,
By the faith which scorns the fagot,
Bloody priest of Rome, from thee.
Hoar St. Andrews, thou didst witness,
When the dark-stoled priestly crew
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Of the far-feared Beaton blew.
Thou didst see the mitred council
Sit, and, with a ghastly prayer,
Pray the God who loves his creatures
To make foulest murder fair
With holy names; and thou didst hear it
When, instead of reasons true,
Age gave grace to doting dogma,
Truth was damned because 'twas new.
And for burning words heart-kindling,
Soulless creeds were grimly read
From books, that with a monstrous learning
Slaved the living to the dead.
They with sounding pomp disputed,
Meekly he, and calmly wise;
They with curious deft manœuvre,
He with short plain text replies.
Forth then went that calm refuter,
While they muttered spiteful wrath,
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Hooted round his guiltless path.
To the place of doom they led him,
In his hand the holiest book;
Bright the noon-day sun was shining,
Brighter shone the martyr's look.
To the bloody stake they bound him
With strong bonds, who needed none;
Freely to the fiery torture
Marched the noble Hamilton.
Blessings for their hateful curses
He returned; his voice implored
Pardon to his stone-eyed murderers,
While the blazing billet roared.
God was with him in his anguish,
Jesus gave him strength divine;
He, like Stephen, saw the glory
Through the wreathèd darkness shine.
And a glorious light behind him
Shone—and shines—whose death made free
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Bloody priest of Rome, from thee!
And the towers of grey St. Andrews,
By the roaring German wave,
While we name his name, shall teach us
To be gentle, true, and brave.
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