University of Virginia Library

Search this document 
Gaston de Blondeville, or The court of Henry III

Keeping festival in Ardenne, a romance. St. Alban's Abbey, a metrical tale; With some poetical pieces. By Anne Radcliffe ... To which is prefixed: A memoir of the author, with extracts from her journals. In four volumes

collapse sectionI. 
collapse section 
  
  
collapse sectionIII,IV. 
collapse section 
  
collapse sectionI. 
 I. 
 II. 
 III. 
 IV. 
 V. 
 VI. 
 VII. 
 VIII. 
 IX. 
 X. 
 XI. 
 XII. 
 XIII. 
 XIV. 
 XV. 
 XVI. 
 XVII. 
 XVIII. 
 XIX. 
 XX. 
 XXI. 
  
 XXIII. 
 XXIV. 
 XXV. 
 XXVI. 
 XXVII. 
 XXVIII. 
 XXIX. 
 XXX. 
 XXXI. 
 XXXII. 
 XXXIII. 
 XXXIV. 
 XXXV. 
 XXVI. 
 XXXVII. 
 XXXVIII. 
XXXVIII.
 XXXIX. 
 XL. 
 XLI. 
 XLII. 
 XLIII. 
 II. 
 III. 
 IV. 
 V. 
 VI. 
 VII. 
collapse sectionVIII. 
 I. 
 II. 
 III. 
 IV. 
 V. 
 VI. 
 VII. 
 VIII. 
 IX. 
 X. 
 XI. 
 XII. 
 XIII. 
 XIV. 
 XV. 
 XVI. 
 XVII. 
 XVIII. 
 XIX. 
 XX. 
 XXI. 
 XXII. 
 XXIII. 
 XXIV. 
 XXV. 
 XXVI. 
 XXVII. 
 XXVIII. 
 XXIX. 
 XXX. 
 XXXI. 
 XXXII. 
 XXXIII. 
 XXXIV. 
 XXXV. 
 XXXVI. 
 XXXVII. 
 XXXVIII. 
 XXXIX. 
 XL. 
 XLI. 
 XLII. 
 IX. 
 X. 
collapse section 
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
collapse section 
 I. 
 II. 
 III. 
  

XXXVIII.

But who the changing scenes may tell
This Abbey's ancient walls have known!
When London tolled the Plague's death-bell,
Justice here held her courts alone;
Here, in this nave, was placed her throne.
An earlier age showed scenes more dread,
For shrines and tombs around were spread
With bleeding knights and nobles dead.
Next age, the latter Henry's bands
Each consecrated altar spoiled,
Seized on the Abbey's ample lands,
And recklessly for plunder toiled.
Then, nearer to the living day,
Here other spoilers bore the sway,
Who, feigning Reason for their guide,
Indulged an impious, bigot pride.

127

All arrogant in their chicane,
They dared these reverend walls profane.
Then Cromwell's bands on grave-stones lay,
And storied brasses tore away;
The sculptured marble tombs defaced
Of those, who, nameless, sleep below;
That the tall arch, with web-work traced
That shadowed form of Prophet graced,
Was shattered by their impious blow.