ECCLESIASTICAL SONNETS

IN SERIES, 1821-22. PART III.

VIII. ACQUITTAL OF THE BISHOPS

          A VOICE, from long-expecting thousands sent,
          Shatters the air, and troubles tower and spire;
          For Justice hath absolved the innocent,
          And Tyranny is balked of her desire:
          Up, down, the busy Thames--rapid as fire
          Coursing a train of gunpowder--it went,
          And transport finds in every street a vent,
          Till the whole City rings like one vast quire.
          The Fathers urge the People to be still,
          With outstretched hands and earnest speech--in vain!        10
          Yea, many, haply wont to entertain
          Small reverence for the mitre's offices,
          And to Religion's self no friendly will,
          A Prelate's blessing ask on bended knees.