"Cruel of heart were they, bloody of hand," Who in these Wilds then struggled for command;[822] The strong were merciless, without hope the weak; Till this bright Stranger came, fair as day-break, 40 And as a cresset true that darts its length Of beamy lustre from a tower of strength; Guiding the mariner through troubled seas, And cheering oft his peaceful reveries, Like the fixed Light that crowns yon Headland of St. Bees. 45 To aid the Votaress, miracles believed Wrought in men's minds, like miracles achieved; So piety took root; and Song might tell What humanising virtues near her cell[823] Sprang up, and spread their fragrance wide around; How savage bosoms melted at the sound 51 Of gospel-truth enchained in harmonies Wafted o'er waves, or creeping through close trees, From her religious Mansion of St. Bees. When her sweet Voice, that instrument of love, 55 Was glorified, and took its place, above The silent stars, among the angelic quire, Her chantry blazed with sacrilegious fire, And perished utterly; but her good deeds Had sown the spot, that witnessed them, with seeds 60 Which lay in earth expectant, till a breeze With quickening impulse answered their mute pleas, And lo! a _statelier_ pile, the Abbey of St. Bees.[824] There are[825] the naked clothed, the hungry fed; And Charity extendeth[826] to the dead, 65 Her intercessions made for the soul's rest Of tardy penitents; or for the best Among the good (when love might else have slept, Sickened, or died) in pious memory kept. Thanks to the austere and simple Devotees, 70 Who, to that service bound by venial fees, Keep watch before the altars of St. Bees. Are[827] not, in sooth, their Requiems sacred ties[828] Woven out of passion's sharpest agonies, Subdued, composed, and formalized by art, 75 To fix a wiser sorrow in the heart? The prayer for them whose hour is past away Says[829] to the Living, profit while ye may! A little part, and that the worst, he sees Who thinks that priestly cunning holds the keys 80 That best unlock the secrets of St. Bees. Conscience, the timid being's inmost light, Hope of the dawn and solace of the night, Cheers these Recluses with a steady ray In many an hour when judgment goes astray. 85 Ah! scorn not hastily their rule who try Earth to despise, and flesh to mortify; Consume with zeal, in wingèd ecstasies Of prayer and praise forget their rosaries, Nor hear the loudest surges of St. Bees. 90