Blackwood's Edinburgh Magazine, Volume 35, Page 634
IX.
OLD CHURCH IN AN ENGLISH PARK.
Crowning a flowery slope it stood alone,
In gracious sanctity;—a bright rill wound
Caressingly about the holy ground,
And warbled, with a never-dying tone,
Amidst the tombs. A hue of ages gone
Seem'd, from that ivied porch, that solemn gleam
Of tower and cross, pale quivering on the stream,
O'er all th' ancestral woodlands to be thrown,
And something yet more deep. The air was fraught
With noble memories whispering many a thought
Of England's Fathers;—awful and serene,
They who had toil'd, watch'd, struggled to secure,
Within such fabrics, worship free and pure,
Reign'd there, th' o'ershadowing spirits of the scene.