 | The bird and the bell, with other poems |  |
17
XLVIII.
Nor dream that here the inquisitorial chairIs but a byword, though we flush and weep
In honest indignation, when we hear
Chains clank in Rome, and wonder how the cheap
And common truth of Heaven must cringe, and creep,
And mask its face, lest Mother Church disown
The rebel thought that flouts the apostolic throne!
| The bird and the bell, with other poems | |