The Prophecy of Westminster, And other Poems In Honour of Henry Edward, Cardinal Manning. By Harriet Eleanor Hamilton King |
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The Cardinal's Peace.
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 | The Prophecy of Westminster, And other Poems |  |
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The Cardinal's Peace.
SEPTEMBER, 1889.
Oh, black and inky rolled the Thames,
An empty water-way;
And moored in ranks the silent ships
Black and deserted lay;
It seemed as if into Dead-Man's Land
London had drifted away.
An empty water-way;
And moored in ranks the silent ships
Black and deserted lay;
It seemed as if into Dead-Man's Land
London had drifted away.
All down the great Commercial Road,
The busy August time,
Was never a grind of waggon-wheel,
Or horse's hoofs in chime;
It waited as if for a Funeral March
Through the empty glare and grime.
The busy August time,
Was never a grind of waggon-wheel,
Or horse's hoofs in chime;
It waited as if for a Funeral March
Through the empty glare and grime.
By Limehouse tower and Limehouse wall,
Where mariners look to land,
Masts of o'erladen ships stood tall
Without a helping hand;
And the dead who were lying under the stones
In the churchyard seemed to stand.
Where mariners look to land,
Masts of o'erladen ships stood tall
Without a helping hand;
And the dead who were lying under the stones
In the churchyard seemed to stand.
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It was the People's Cardinal
Sat in his large bare room;
A dreary place in which to wait
Mid London fog and gloom:—
Then suddenly a garden
Of roses all in bloom,
Sat in his large bare room;
A dreary place in which to wait
Mid London fog and gloom:—
Then suddenly a garden
Of roses all in bloom,
As the door opened, and he stood
In sovereign presence there;
While quivering wings of angels stirred
The changed harmonious air,
And the open gates of Paradise
Startled us unaware.
In sovereign presence there;
While quivering wings of angels stirred
The changed harmonious air,
And the open gates of Paradise
Startled us unaware.
Black was the house outside, and bright
The heart of the house inside;
Its nakedness and poverty
The treasure could not hide
It held,—the Saint of Westminster,
The old man glorious-eyed.
The heart of the house inside;
Its nakedness and poverty
The treasure could not hide
It held,—the Saint of Westminster,
The old man glorious-eyed.
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The great Cathedrals that were his
He might not have nor hold;
He sat not in the House of Peers,
No tithes to him were told;
But he counted the souls of Londoners,
As a rich man counts his gold.
He might not have nor hold;
He sat not in the House of Peers,
No tithes to him were told;
But he counted the souls of Londoners,
As a rich man counts his gold.
He spake to the souls of Londoners;—
“My millions that are mine!—
Whom God hath given me I will keep,—
My flock by right divine;
You cannot get away from me,—
Not one will I resign.
“My millions that are mine!—
Whom God hath given me I will keep,—
My flock by right divine;
You cannot get away from me,—
Not one will I resign.
For here I am,—and one by one
My thoughts your steps pursue;
When you are born, and when you die
My prayers go up for you;
I, your poor priest, my post must keep:—
'Tis all that I can do.”
My thoughts your steps pursue;
When you are born, and when you die
My prayers go up for you;
I, your poor priest, my post must keep:—
'Tis all that I can do.”
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Hundreds of thousands of his own
Had never heard his name;
Hundreds of thousands knew no more
Than some vague waft of fame;
And many were proud and hard of heart,
And senseless went and came.
Had never heard his name;
Hundreds of thousands knew no more
Than some vague waft of fame;
And many were proud and hard of heart,
And senseless went and came.
But never a soul came face to face,
That had the grace of God,
But straight to his salutation leapt,
And followed the way he trod;
With joy to be fed from the Shepherd's hand,
And ruled by the Shepherd's rod.
That had the grace of God,
But straight to his salutation leapt,
And followed the way he trod;
With joy to be fed from the Shepherd's hand,
And ruled by the Shepherd's rod.
There came a step, there came a hand,
There came a voice to his ear:
“Do you know, O my Lord Cardinal,
That your people want you here?
And to-morrow blood will run in the streets
Unless some help is near.
There came a voice to his ear:
“Do you know, O my Lord Cardinal,
That your people want you here?
And to-morrow blood will run in the streets
Unless some help is near.
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At the dock-gates they stand determined,
There is war betwixt man and man;
Leaders have parleyed either side
The utmost that they can;
And ominous were the words to-day
Through the starving crowds that ran.”
There is war betwixt man and man;
Leaders have parleyed either side
The utmost that they can;
And ominous were the words to-day
Through the starving crowds that ran.”
The Cardinal arose and came;
His people saw his face;
All in the midst of the multitude
He raised his hand of grace;—
And some men said that a strange swift light
Flashed from it through the place.
His people saw his face;
All in the midst of the multitude
He raised his hand of grace;—
And some men said that a strange swift light
Flashed from it through the place.
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It was the Moon, the Fisher's Moon,
That shineth over the seas;
And London all at her feet lay small,
In the glory of her increase;
And warm were the nights she brought with her,
Till the night of the Cardinal's Peace.
That shineth over the seas;
And London all at her feet lay small,
In the glory of her increase;
And warm were the nights she brought with her,
Till the night of the Cardinal's Peace.
What were the toils, and the fightings,
The patience and the pain?
What were the powers he wrestled with?
We do not know them plain:
But we know that he won the poor man's cause,
And the labourer's lasting gain.
The patience and the pain?
What were the powers he wrestled with?
We do not know them plain:
But we know that he won the poor man's cause,
And the labourer's lasting gain.
Pray for us, Henry Edward!
Thou Patron of the Poor;
Thou knewest, and didst share with us
The sorrows we endure;
Forget us not, though thou hast passed
Into thy port secure.
Thou Patron of the Poor;
Thou knewest, and didst share with us
The sorrows we endure;
Forget us not, though thou hast passed
Into thy port secure.
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Oh, London lieth desolate
Since that dark day you went!
Do you, amid your Eastertide,
Know that we still keep Lent?
Once only, amid centuries,
Such souls from God are sent.
Since that dark day you went!
Do you, amid your Eastertide,
Know that we still keep Lent?
Once only, amid centuries,
Such souls from God are sent.
From over seas on pilgrimage
They came, to kiss thy hand;
While we, who were within thy gates,
We did not understand.—
Oh, broken hearts; oh, wasted lives;
Oh, lost light in our land!
They came, to kiss thy hand;
While we, who were within thy gates,
We did not understand.—
Oh, broken hearts; oh, wasted lives;
Oh, lost light in our land!
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