Lines suggested by the last Words of Berengarius; ob. Anno Dom. 1088

Lyrics

No more 'twixt conscience staggering and the Pope Soon shall I now before my God appear, By him to be acquitted, as I hope; By him to be condemnéd, as I fear.—        &nbsp       &nbsp       &nbsp       &nbsp       &nbsp       &nbspREFLECTION ON THE ABOVE Lynx amid moles! had I stood by thy bed, Be of good cheer, meek soul! I would have said: I see a hope spring from that humble fear. All are not strong alike through storms to steer Right onward. What? though dread of threatened death And dungeon torture made thy hand and breath Inconstant to the truth within thy heart! That truth, from which, through fear, thou twice didst start, Fear haply told thee, was a learned strife, Or not so vital as to claim thy life: And myriads had reached Heaven, who never knew Where lay the difference 'twixt the false and true! Ye, who secure 'mid trophies not your own, Judge him who won them when he stood alone, And proudly talk of recreant Berengare— O first the age, and then the man compare! That age how dark! congenial minds how rare! No host of friends with kindred zeal did burn! No throbbing hearts awaited his return! Prostrate alike when prince and peasant fell, He only disenchanted from the spell, Like the weak worm that gems the starless night, Moved in the scanty circlet of his light: And was it strange if he withdrew the ray That did but guide the night-birds to their prey? The ascending day-star with a bolder eye Hath lit each dew-drop on our trimmer lawn! Yet not for this, if wise, shall we decry The spots and struggles of the timid Dawn; Lest so we tempt th' approaching Noon to scorn The mists and painted vapours of our Morn.