We pass these things,—because "the times" are prest
With necessary charges of the weight
Of all the sin; and "Calvin, for the rest,
Made bold to burn Servetus—Ah, men err!"—
And, so do Churches! which is all we mean
To bring to proof in any register
Of theological fat kine and lean—
So drive them back into the pens! refer
Old sins with long beards, and "I wis and ween,"
Entirely to the times—the times—the times!
Nor ever ask why this preponderant,
Infallible, pure Church could set her chimes
Most loudly then, just then; most jubilant,
Precisely then—when mankind stood in crimes
Full heart-deep, and Heaven's judgments were not scant.
Inquire still less, what signifies a Church
Of perfect inspiration and pure laws,
Who burns the first man with a brimstone torch,
And grinds the second, bone by bone, because
The times, forsooth, are used to rack and scorch!
What is a holy Church, unless she awes
The times down from their sins? Did Christ select
Such amiable times, to come and teach
Love to, and mercy? Why, the world were wrecked,
If every mere great man, who lives to reach
A little leaf of popular respect,
Attained not simply by some special breach
In his land's customs,—by some precedence
In thought and act—which, having proved him higher
Than his own times, proved too his competence
Of helping them to wonder and aspire.
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CASA GUIDI WINDOWS.
