Written on Leicester Abbey. Catherine Rebecca Grey, Lady Manners Alexander Huber Editor Bodleian Libraries, University of Oxford
Broad Street Oxford OX1 3BG UK
Eighteenth-Century Poetry Archive
Taylor Institution Library St Giles' Oxford OX1 3NA UK info@eighteenthcenturypoetry.org https://www.eighteenthcenturypoetry.org/
Oxford This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 Unported License. T173070 Manners, Catherine Rebecca, Lady, 1766 or 1767-1852. Poems by Lady Manners. Second edition. London John Bell 1793 pp. [110]-115. 126p.

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Written on Leicester Abbey . HAIL venerable walls ! whose lonely round , Still shows the stranger what you once have been , Though now with tufts of flowering elder crown'd , And vivid ivy's never-fading green . Thy pristine glories are for ever fled , Fled the unbounded power that once was thine ; Nor ever more shall rapt Devotion tread With votive offerings round thy hallow'd shrine . But where the cloister'd train with Anthems clear , In long procession swept the vaulted aisle , Where pale repentance dropp'd the pious tear , And Faith midst dying agonies could smile ; Nought now but bleating flocks are seen to stray , Or browsing oxen from the ploughshare led ; Or the rude peasant who at close of day , Regardless passes o'er the silent dead . The nightly Bat amid the ruins flits , The clamorous Daw here builds her airy nest ; While with discordant notes the screech Owl sits , Foreboding woes to Superstition's breast . Can the reflective mind unmov'd remain , Where every view invites the moral lay ; And kindly warns the arrogant and vain Their boasted honours must alike decay . Methinks , as o'er these grass-grown tombs I tread , New shadowy forms in solemn order rise , The Warrior here erects his crested head , And here the Statesman meets my wondering eyes . For not alone the undistinguish'd crowd Of Monks in this forsaken scene are laid ; Here too the Children of Ambition bow'd , And Death's inevitable tribute paid . Tir'd with Contention and the din of Arms , Here Leicester's Earl The Earl of Leicester , the founder of this abbey , who became the first abbot , and died here . , once turbulent and bold , Sought in monastic gloom those purer charms Which Camps or Palaces could ne'er unfold . Oft on the banks of Soar The name of a river at Leicester . he pensive trod , And swept the rapid current with his tears , While he besought a long neglected God To blot the errors of his former years . Rais'd by his care the sculptur'd arches bend , The massive columns form the lengthen'd aisle ; In Gothic state the lofty towers ascend , And proudly crown the consecrated pile . Though in those ruder ages bigot zeal Too oft misled the visionary mind ; And round Religion threw a gloomy veil , Condemning joys which Providence design'd ; Yet far more happy for the human race , Those rigid laws that deem'd all pleasures crimes , Than the licentious precepts which debase The false philosophy of modern times . Within these hospitable walls conceal'd , Unhappy Seagrave Seagrave , the Minister of Henry III , and who died here . shunn'd the Barons' hate ; And in some cell obscure his eyes He seal'd , Who , uncontroul'd , had rul'd the King and State . A more illustrious Mourner yet behold ! Lo , haughty Wolsey , Wolsey also died at this abbey . humbled to the dust ! Hear him his fortune's sad reverse unfold ! And rue the hour he plac'd in Kings his trust . How chang'd from him , who , insolent and proud , The dazzling pomp of Majesty outshone ! Amid whose suit attendant Nobles bow'd , Rais'd by his smiles , or by his frowns undone . From him who foremost in the glitt'ring train , At Guisnes and Bruges boundless pow'r display'd : Where rival Kings his favour sought to gain , And more than princely honours to him paid , No more by vain prosperity misled , To brighter objects here he turn'd his mind ; With resignation bow'd his hoary head , And dying own'd his cup of sorrow kind . Who , then , since such the end of human pow'r , Would waste in Courts the vigour of their prime ? Or lose one short , inestimable hour , That fills the lessening measure of their time ? Since Wealth and Grandeur in possession cloy , And oft with unsuspected swiftness part , With wiser aim , O Man , thy thoughts employ , To cultivate the mind , to mend the heart . With awful wonder mark yon vaulted sky , Observe those ponderous planets how they roll : The vast expanse of endless space descry , And trembling to it's Maker lift thy soul : Turn , then , to sublunary scenes thine eyes , Behold what trifles mortals toil to gain ; And ask thy mind if those they greatest prize , Can merit aught but pity and disdain .