'Where stands yon royal keep, a church shall rise Like Incorruption clothing the Corrupt On the resurrection morn! Strong House of God, To Him exalt thy walls, and nothing doubt, For lo! from thee like lions from their lair Abroad shall pace the Primates of this land:-- They shall not lick the hand that gives and smites, Doglike, nor snakelike on their bellies creep In indirectness base. They shall not fear The people's madness, nor the rage of kings Reddening the temple's pavement. They shall lift The strong brow mitred, and the crosiered hand Before their presence sending Love and Fear To pave their steps with greatness. From their fronts Stubborned with marble from Saint Peter's Rock The sunrise of far centuries forth shall flame: He that hath eyes shall see it, and shall say, "Blessed who cometh in the name of God!"' Thus sang the Saint, advancing; and, behold, At every pause the brethren sang 'Amen!' While down from window and from roof the throng Eyed them in silence. As their anthem ceased, Before them stood the palace clustered round By many a stalwart form. Midway the gate On the first step, like angel newly lit, Queen Bertha stood. Back from her forehead meek, The meeker for its crown, a veil descended, While streamed the red robe to the foot snow-white Sandalled in gold. The morn was on her face, The star of morn within those eyes upraised That flashed all dewy with the grateful light Of many a granted prayer. O'er that sweet shape Augustine signed the Venerable Sign; The lovely vision sinking, hand to breast, Received it; while, by sympathy surprised, Or taught of God, the monarch and his thanes Knelt as she knelt, and bent like her their heads, Sharing her blessing. Like a palm the Faith Thenceforth o'er England rose, those saintly men Preaching by life severe, not words alone, The doctrine of the Cross. Some Power divine, Stronger than patriot love, more sweet than Spring, Made way from heart to heart, and daily God Joined to His Church the souls that should be saved, Thousands, where Medway mingles with the Thames, Rushing to Baptism. In his palace cell High-nested on that Vaticanian Hill Which o'er the Martyr-gardens kens the world, Gregory, that news receiving, or from men, Or haply from that God with whom he walked, The Spirit's whisper ever in his ear, Rejoiced that hour, and cried aloud, 'Rejoice, Thou Earth! that North which from its cloud but flung The wild beasts' cry of anger or of pain, Redeemed from wrath, its Hallelujahs sings; Its waves by Roman galleys feared, this day Kiss the bare feet of Christ's Evangelists; That race whose oak-clubs brake our Roman swords Glories now first in bonds--the bond of Truth: At last it fears;--but fears alone to sin,