And vice, beneath the mitre's kind control,
Sinned gayly on, and grew to giant size,
Shielded by priestly power, and watched by priestly eyes.
XXIII.
At last the earthquake came-the shock, that hurled
To dust, in many fragments dashed and strown,
The throne, whose roots were in another world,
And whose far-stretching shadow awed our own.
From many a proud monastic pile, o'erthrown,
Fear-struck, the hooded inmates rushed and fled;
The web, that for a thousand years had grown
O'er prostrate Europe, in that day of dread
Crumbled and fell, as fire dissolves the flaxen thread.
XXIV.
The spirit of that day is still awake,
And spreads himself, and shall not sleep again;
But through the idle mesh of power shall break
Like billows o'er the Asian monarch's chain;
Till men are filled with him, and feel how vain.
Instead of the pure heart and innocent hands,
Are all the proud and pompous modes to gain
The smile of Heaven;—till a new age expands
Its white and holy wings above the peaceful lands.
XXV.
For look again on the past years;—behold,
How like the nightmare's dreams have flown away
Horrible forms of worship, that, of old,
