The Chapter-house: Episcopacy IV

The Persian king, from arm'd Abdera's rocks,
Fetter'd and lash'd free Ocean ; who the while,
Not to o'erwhelm him, with a patient smile,
Forbore to shake his spray-bespangled locks :
'Tis thus when man the Almighty's goodness mocks; —
The chosen of the vineyard rose, and said,
Come, let us kill the Heir ; when He is dead
All will be ours. The world is bold, and shocks
Our boasted reason ; yet from age to age
Proud scorners play that descant o'er and o'er :
When the world's minions, or in mirth or rage,
Lifting the scourge o'er crown or shrine, engage,
These be my spoils, these only, and no more,
The Church, forbearing, as that sea forbore,
Moves not to crush, but careless of the chain,
Looks bright, and breathes out her untroubled strain.