The Prophecy of Westminster, And other Poems In Honour of Henry Edward, Cardinal Manning. By Harriet Eleanor Hamilton King |
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The Prophecy of Westminster.
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 | The Prophecy of Westminster, And other Poems |  |
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The Prophecy of Westminster.
King Edward lay at Havering Bower,
At Havering on the Hill;
Southward it looks across the land,
An English Eden still.
At Havering on the Hill;
Southward it looks across the land,
An English Eden still.
“To-day I pass to Thorney Isle,”
King Edward mused, and said,
“The Holy Hermit beckoned me,
Last night beside my bed.”
King Edward mused, and said,
“The Holy Hermit beckoned me,
Last night beside my bed.”
Then from the height of Havering,
The King and lords rode down
Through stately avenues of chase
To Romford market-town:
The King and lords rode down
Through stately avenues of chase
To Romford market-town:
And on into the green wood's heart,
With all glad sounds alive,
Beneath the spreading of the oaks,
And down the Hornbeam Drive.
With all glad sounds alive,
Beneath the spreading of the oaks,
And down the Hornbeam Drive.
8
Oh, white, all white, the hawthorns stood,
And yellow all the whin,
And black the shining holly-bowers,
With nightingales within.
And yellow all the whin,
And black the shining holly-bowers,
With nightingales within.
And when the bells of Navestock
The Angelus did ring,
They stayed their steeds three Aves time,
And after, spake the king:
The Angelus did ring,
They stayed their steeds three Aves time,
And after, spake the king:
“Make haste! Make haste! High noon is past”;
And faster, at the word,
Their horses' hoofs beside the Bourne
Sprang o'er the daisied sward.
And faster, at the word,
Their horses' hoofs beside the Bourne
Sprang o'er the daisied sward.
The orchards of the monks stood thick
In rosy garlands fair,
The humming of the honey-bees
Was over all the air.
In rosy garlands fair,
The humming of the honey-bees
Was over all the air.
The Angel faces smiled on him,
Of his East Anglian folk,
And from their woodland cottages
Curled up the thin blue smoke.
Of his East Anglian folk,
And from their woodland cottages
Curled up the thin blue smoke.
9
The cakes were baking on the hearth,
The byres and barns were full,
The spinning-wheels and armoiries
Held store of flax and wool;
Plenty and peace went everywhere
With good King Edward's rule.
The byres and barns were full,
The spinning-wheels and armoiries
Held store of flax and wool;
Plenty and peace went everywhere
With good King Edward's rule.
Oh, filled with fairy cowslip gold
The little children's hands;
And fearless in his face they looked,
The lord of all these lands;
The little children's hands;
And fearless in his face they looked,
The lord of all these lands;
For this was not the ploughing-time,
Nor harvesting, nor hay;
It was the month of nesting birds,
The moonlight month of May;
And this was Merry England then,
When all had time to play.
Nor harvesting, nor hay;
It was the month of nesting birds,
The moonlight month of May;
And this was Merry England then,
When all had time to play.
The blue-winged jays before them flew,
And chattered through the wood,
And one by one the kingfishers
Flashed through the solitude.
And chattered through the wood,
And one by one the kingfishers
Flashed through the solitude.
10
White miles of mere at Dagenham
Were crowded to the edge
With armies of the waterfowl,
And from the secret sedge
Were crowded to the edge
With armies of the waterfowl,
And from the secret sedge
Came notes of call, and stirrings soft
Of myriad brooding wings,
And the lordly drakes sailed out, and left
A wake of glittering rings.
Of myriad brooding wings,
And the lordly drakes sailed out, and left
A wake of glittering rings.
The flapping herons overhead
Went with them in their course,
Until they came to Barking Creek,
And lighted down from horse.
Went with them in their course,
Until they came to Barking Creek,
And lighted down from horse.
They drank from bowls of beechen-wood,
Upon the rushy brink;
The sweetest water in the world
Is this of Thames to drink.
Upon the rushy brink;
The sweetest water in the world
Is this of Thames to drink.
They loosened from the mooring-place,
They pushed from off the marge;
And up the royal river straight
They steered the royal barge.
They pushed from off the marge;
And up the royal river straight
They steered the royal barge.
11
By pleasant Plaistow in the Marsh,
Their nests the swallows keep;
In parsley and marsh-marigold
The cattle stood knee-deep.
Their nests the swallows keep;
In parsley and marsh-marigold
The cattle stood knee-deep.
They passed, beneath the towering elms,
The market-place of Bow;
And up and down, by Wick and Town,
The winding reaches go.
The market-place of Bow;
And up and down, by Wick and Town,
The winding reaches go.
To London Tower and London Wall
The rowers came at last;
Between the piles of London Bridge
On flood of tide they passed.
The rowers came at last;
Between the piles of London Bridge
On flood of tide they passed.
And all the busy London wharves
Came close before their eyes,
Crowded with boats of watermen,
And fleets of merchandise.
Came close before their eyes,
Crowded with boats of watermen,
And fleets of merchandise.
The Friesland and the Flemish folk,
And ships with Gascon wine,
And they who bring the costly fruits
From markets Byzantine;
And fishing-boats at Billingsgate,
Smelling of tar and brine.
And ships with Gascon wine,
And they who bring the costly fruits
From markets Byzantine;
And fishing-boats at Billingsgate,
Smelling of tar and brine.
12
They glided past the City Bars,
Where, on the King's right hand,
With gleams of fading primroses
Sloped down the flowery Strand;
Where, on the King's right hand,
With gleams of fading primroses
Sloped down the flowery Strand;
And on his left the trackless marsh
Lay low and green and fair,
Out to the blue horizon hills,
With haunts of hiding there.
Lay low and green and fair,
Out to the blue horizon hills,
With haunts of hiding there.
Oh, sweet, sweet, sweet, the willow-wrens
In rustling reeds do sing;
And clear, clear, clear the larks in heaven
Ring out to greet the King.
In rustling reeds do sing;
And clear, clear, clear the larks in heaven
Ring out to greet the King.
Oh, low, low, low the wood-pigeons
Coo from the branches high;
And loud, loud, loud the nightingales
From budding brakes reply.
Coo from the branches high;
And loud, loud, loud the nightingales
From budding brakes reply.
And now at last, the whitethorn lights
Of Thorney Isle appear,
A mound of snow, above, below,
And in the water clear.
Of Thorney Isle appear,
A mound of snow, above, below,
And in the water clear.
13
And as unto the bank they came,
They saw a sign most strange;
The sailing down of all the swans,
As far as sight could range.
They saw a sign most strange;
The sailing down of all the swans,
As far as sight could range.
Their white wings waved all round the isle,
Like white sea-foam alive,
A circling reef; and streaming down,
Still other swans arrive.
Like white sea-foam alive,
A circling reef; and streaming down,
Still other swans arrive.
Then marvelled much the King thereat,
And troubled was his face;
“So many swans I never saw,
All gathered in one place.”
And troubled was his face;
“So many swans I never saw,
All gathered in one place.”
King Edward tracked the woodland maze,
The holy Hermit's screen;
But open was the middle space,
And there the grass grew green,
And blue the hyacinths, where once
St. Peter's Church had been.
The holy Hermit's screen;
But open was the middle space,
And there the grass grew green,
And blue the hyacinths, where once
St. Peter's Church had been.
The Hermit sat outside his cell,
In life's last borderlands;
Full lowly knelt the holy King
Beneath his trembling hands.
In life's last borderlands;
Full lowly knelt the holy King
Beneath his trembling hands.
14
The Hermit woke as from a dream:
“King Edward, art thou come?
Then praised be God! My time is short,
To-night I shall be dumb.
“King Edward, art thou come?
Then praised be God! My time is short,
To-night I shall be dumb.
Send back thy rowers for a priest;
And this one hour be mine.
Yea, Peter's self it was stood here:—
Last night he brought the sign.
And this one hour be mine.
Yea, Peter's self it was stood here:—
Last night he brought the sign.
Four hundred years and more have flown,
Since to this spot he came,
And his own church did consecrate
By heavenly midnight flame.
Since to this spot he came,
And his own church did consecrate
By heavenly midnight flame.
The heathen have not left a trace
Of holy feet that trod;
These choristers of May alone
Do warble praise of God.
Of holy feet that trod;
These choristers of May alone
Do warble praise of God.
It is to thee, O crownèd King,
God gives another crown;
Here is to be thy monument,
The shrine of thy renown.
God gives another crown;
Here is to be thy monument,
The shrine of thy renown.
15
God grants thee, Edward, twenty years,
Till all shall be fulfilled;
Glorious shall be the House of God
Which here thou shalt rebuild;
Till all shall be fulfilled;
Glorious shall be the House of God
Which here thou shalt rebuild;
For palace and for sanctuary,
For London's watch and ward;
For honour of great Peter,
With Paul her gates to guard.
For London's watch and ward;
For honour of great Peter,
With Paul her gates to guard.
This thy great Minster of the West
Grows in its place, O King;
Like dreams it seems of carvèd gleams
Of angels' fashioning;
The height, the depth, the mystery
Of heaven's imagining.
Grows in its place, O King;
Like dreams it seems of carvèd gleams
Of angels' fashioning;
The height, the depth, the mystery
Of heaven's imagining.
And here within the wondrous walls,
Kings shall be born, and die;
And thou, O Edward, in the midst
In thy last peace shalt lie.
Kings shall be born, and die;
And thou, O Edward, in the midst
In thy last peace shalt lie.
The kings in proud procession pass
For crowning of thy race;
Solemn and slow with chants they go
Unto their burial-place.
For crowning of thy race;
Solemn and slow with chants they go
Unto their burial-place.
16
Years—generations—centuries—
I see the Altar blaze;
And day and night to God's great throne
Ascendeth prayer and praise:
Yet one thing lacketh, only one;
Sleep then the Saints always?
I see the Altar blaze;
And day and night to God's great throne
Ascendeth prayer and praise:
Yet one thing lacketh, only one;
Sleep then the Saints always?
I see the See of Canterbury
Is set for rise and fall;
Many and great her Saints shall be,
Yet shall she lose her Pall.”
Is set for rise and fall;
Many and great her Saints shall be,
Yet shall she lose her Pall.”
His voice dropped down;—a sudden gloom
The earth and sky o'erran;
And the King trembled on his knees
Beside the Holy Man;
And long he feared;—till faint and far,
Once more his speech began.
The earth and sky o'erran;
And the King trembled on his knees
Beside the Holy Man;
And long he feared;—till faint and far,
Once more his speech began.
“I see,” he said, “a place of tombs;
In darkness there they lie;
No single altar lamp illumes
The empty Sanctuary.
In darkness there they lie;
No single altar lamp illumes
The empty Sanctuary.
17
Thou sleepest, Edward, in the midst,
And angels watch beside;
But all around, from underground,
Pale ghosts at midnight glide.
And angels watch beside;
But all around, from underground,
Pale ghosts at midnight glide.
They fill, in dim and whispering crowds,
Thy Minster of the West;
No prayers are said or sung for them,
Their souls can find no rest.
Thy Minster of the West;
No prayers are said or sung for them,
Their souls can find no rest.
Through all the awful avenues
They wander in their woe;
The Cross is gone,—the holy hours
No holy vigils know.
They wander in their woe;
The Cross is gone,—the holy hours
No holy vigils know.
All the vast darkness heaves with sighs;
Yet at the farthest end
A streak of brightness seems to show
The door to which I wend:
Yet at the farthest end
A streak of brightness seems to show
The door to which I wend:
A golden beam that spreads and shines,
And all entranceth me;—
A form of white, a face of light,
Of loveliest majesty.
And all entranceth me;—
A form of white, a face of light,
Of loveliest majesty.
18
Is it the Holy Father's face,
That blesseth all the earth?
A pilgrimage to Rome for this
Were well a lifetime worth.
That blesseth all the earth?
A pilgrimage to Rome for this
Were well a lifetime worth.
Is it the blessèd Evangelist
Who lay on Jesus' breast?
Hath he then tarried all this time,
And come into the West?
Who lay on Jesus' breast?
Hath he then tarried all this time,
And come into the West?
He is so old, he is so frail,
I cannot tell if he
Be still on earth, or hath stepped down
From heaven's high company.
I cannot tell if he
Be still on earth, or hath stepped down
From heaven's high company.
A mitre is upon his head,
A ring is on his hand;—
And such a face I have not seen;
Nor did I understand
Till now, how the Apostles looked
And spoke, in Holy Land.
A ring is on his hand;—
And such a face I have not seen;
Nor did I understand
Till now, how the Apostles looked
And spoke, in Holy Land.
Yet is thy great West Minster
Against him closed and barred;
Meseemeth that he stands outside,
And over it keeps guard.
Against him closed and barred;
Meseemeth that he stands outside,
And over it keeps guard.
19
Oh, he is come, the Shepherd comes
To feed the flock once more!
And greater grace hath Westminster
Than that she lost before.
To feed the flock once more!
And greater grace hath Westminster
Than that she lost before.
She hath her Prince, she hath her Saint,
The Father sits at home:
Oh, happy are the eyes that see
Those days long hence to come!
The Father sits at home:
Oh, happy are the eyes that see
Those days long hence to come!
Rest, rest, poor ghosts! He watches now,
With holy hands of prayer.
Sink down, O City, into sleep!
He has you in his care.
With holy hands of prayer.
Sink down, O City, into sleep!
He has you in his care.
Edward, a greater one than thou
Shall make his home with thee:—
O sweetest Saint of England's sons,
Whose smile far-off I see,
In thy pure prayers for all poor souls,
Remember even me!”
Shall make his home with thee:—
O sweetest Saint of England's sons,
Whose smile far-off I see,
In thy pure prayers for all poor souls,
Remember even me!”
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