[481]: The table of communion now become a table of separation, stands like an exalted platform upon the brow of the quire, fortified with a bulwark and barricado, to keep off the profane touch of the laics, whilst the obscene and surfeited priest scruples not to paw and mammock the sacramental bread, as familiar as his tavern bisket.
[482]: They shall be thrown eternally into the darkest and deepest gulf of hell, where, under the despiteful controul, the trample and spurn of all the other damned, that in the anguish of their torture shall have no other ease than to exercice a raving and bestial tyranny over them as their slaves and negroes, they shall remain in that plight for ever the basest, the lowermost, the most dejected, most underfoot, and down-trodded vassals of perdition.
[483]: When I recall to mind, at last, after so many dark ages, wherein the huge overshadowing train of Error had almost swept all the stars out of the firmament of the church; how the bright and blissful Reformation, by Divine power, strook through the black and settled night of ignorance and Anti-Christian tyranny, methinks a sovereign and reviving joy must needs rush into the bosom of him that reads or hears, and the sweet odour of the returning Gospel imbathe his soul with the fragrancy of heaven.
[484]: Thou, therefore, that sitst in light and glory inapprochable, Parent of Angels and Men! Next, Thee I implore, Omnipotent King, redeemer of that lost remnant whose nature Thou didst assume, ineffable and everlasting Love! and Thou, the third substance of Divine infinitude, illuminating Spirit; the joy and solace of created thing! look upon this Thy poor and almost spent, and expiring Church.... O let them not bring about their damned designs,... to reinvolve us in that pitchy cloud of infernal darkness, where we shall never more see the sun of Thy truth again, never hope for the cheerful dawn, never more hear the bird of the morning sing....
[485]: O Thou the ever-begotten light, and perfect image of thy Father,... who is there that cannot trace Thee now in Thy beamy walke through the midst of Thy sanctuary, amidst those golden candlesticks, which have long suffered a dimness among us, through the violence of those that had seized them, and were more taken with the mention of their gold than of their starry light? Come, therefore, O Thou that hast the seven starres in Thy right hand, appoint Thy chosen priests, according to their orders and courses of old, to minister before Thee, and duely to dresse and poure out the consecrated oil into Thy holy and everburning lamps. Thou hast sent out the spirit of prayer upon Thy servants over all the land to this effect, and stirred up their vowes as the sound of many waters about Thy throne.... O perfect and accomplish Thy glorious acts.... Come forth out of Thy royal chambers, O Prince of all the kings of the Earth; put ou the visible robes of Thy imperial majesty; take up that unlimited scepter which Thy Almighty Father hath bequeathed Thee; for now the voice of Thy bride calls Thee, and all creatures sigh to be renewed.
[486]: Milton has acknowledged to me that Spenser was his original.
[487]: Voyez l'hymne sur la Nativité, entre autres les premières strophes. Voyez aussi Lycidas.
And ye, the breathing roses of the wood,
Fair silver-buskin'd nymphs....
They left us, when the grey-hooded Even,
Like a sad votarist in a palmer's weed,
Rose from the hindmost wheels of Phœbus's wain....
.... In the violet-embroidered vales....
.... Flowery-kirtled naiades....
All the sea-girt isles,
That like to rich and various gems, inlay
The unadorned bosom of the deep....