Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, ECCLESIA RESTAURTA; .. REBUILDING OF ST. PAUL'S CATHEDRAL, by JAMES WRIGHT (1643-1713)


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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

ECCLESIA RESTAURTA; .. REBUILDING OF ST. PAUL'S CATHEDRAL, by                    
First Line: What beauteous tumor's this, with royal grace
Last Line: And beauty, equals their magnificence.
Subject(s): London Fire (1666); St. Paul's Cathedral, London; Great Fire Of 1666


I.

What beauteous Tumor's this, with Royal Grace,
Springs up a grateful object to our eyes,
In such a ruin'd and unsightly place?
As Chymick flowers from their own ashes rise.

II.

Does time revolve back to the Saxons days,
Devotion's more than golden age? thus, thus
Were they employ'd when they did Temples raise,
And left -- I blush, I cannot say, to us.

III.

For a succeeding Age produced a Race
That durst assume the (then unthought of) guilt,
And with a false, but equal Zeal, deface
What the true Puritans before had built.

IV.

But now slow time repays again that debt
Which kind Antiquity of old did lend:
Fate has a Monarch rais'd who, good as great,
Does, like himself, our wounded Faith defend.

V.

Tell of the pious Ethelbert no more,
Nor mention peaceful Edgar's happy fame,
Since that renown they justly claim'd, before,
Now drowned sinks in Charles his greater name.

VI.

Those Royal Saints rejoyce where now they reign,
To see a Price, the greatest of their Heirs,
Under his Government, restore again
The darling Peace and Piety, of theirs.

VII.

To such a King what Duty ought appear,
How much of unfeign'd Reverence and Love?
Who not alone pleases all good men here,
But adds a joy to the blest Souls above.

VIII.

He London rais'd, ruin'd, and sunk in Fire,
To her now State; and as a Crown to all
(Since higher than Heaven no Heroes can aspire)
Restores the honour of her Tutelar Paul.

IX.

Paul, a great Prince among the twelve, and our
Peculiar Doctor, after all the grief
He lately suffered from a Rebel Power,
Has found at Coesars Judgment-Seat relief.

X.

Who knew not then how they these Walls did stain,
Making a Church a loathsome Stable, thus
The Saint with Beasts encountred once again,
More barbarous than those of Ephesus.

XI.

Since, like a common house, flames did surprize
Her roof: the Church obscured in Ruines lay,
Till now, great Charles bids her a Temple rise,
And from her ten years sleep salute the day.

XII.

Mark the Gradations which this Building hath;
'Tis quite destroy'd to rise less transitory.
Thus 'tis the language of the Church that saith
Humility is the first step to Glory.

XIII.

Or is it rather fortune did conspire
(So great was late this Temples Prophanation)
As not enough to purge the same by Fire,
To cleanse it to the very first Foundation.

XIV.

Such the Mosaic Law was heretofore,
To that sad House where the dire Pest did reign:
And can there be a Plague so great, and more
Deadly infectious, than to be prophane?

XV.

Once more from nothing Paul's shall pierce the Skie!
So at the last and universal flame,
Man, from that earth where he dissolv'd did lie,
Shall spring new made, more fair, and yet the same.

XVI.

Ruine does thus the way to Beauty prove:
And if a Paradox like this can be,
The Immaterial Church in time may move
Out of Confusion to Conformity.

XVII.

Rise a good Omen to our Churches Peace,
Thou Reverend Structure; and as thy Saint, Paul,
(Whose honour did by being o'recome increase)
Advance more great, and glorious from thy fall.

XVIII.

But since a Work so great must slowly rise,
And few may live to see it built outright,
To satisfie this Generations eyes,
Behold in little a prophetic sight.

XIX.

Thus, when in flames th' Arabian Bird expires,
To live again in a more vigorous birth,
A little Phenix from those Funeral Fires
Starts up the Embryo-wonder of the earth.

XX.

What Miracle of Art will grow from hence,
And challenge through the World a Parallel,
When the bare Model only for Expence,
And real Value does so far excel?

XXI.

But something more Majestic than ev'n this
May we with solid reason well expect,
Where to the Work, a CHARLES auspicious is:
A help so great can have no small effect.

XXII.

Hereafter, how will every Generation
Bless that dear name, when from Records they know
This City's Beauty, Glory of the Nation,
To th' pious greatness of his soul they owe.

XXIII.

Nor shall Posterity forget the least
Of those, who such a Monument shall raise;
For when from their surviving Work they rest,
Eternal Fame shall mention their due Praise.

XXIV.

What did I say -- only, eternal Fame?
Better Records are to such merit given;
Angels shall write with their own quills, each name
I'th' everlasting Registers of Heaven.

XXV.

While in the front of those deserving men,
As the Conductor of this beauteous Frame,
Stands Englands Archimedes, Learned Wren,
Who builds in Paul's a Trophy to his Name.

XXVI.

Earths Cabinet of Rarities, famed Rome,
Shall now no more alone possess what's rare;
Since British Architecture dares presume
To vie with the most celebrated there.

XXVII.

Britain, who, though perhaps, the last she be
To imitate what's great in Forein Parts;
Yet when she that hath done, we always see
Th' Inventors she excels in their own Arts.

XXVIII.

Ah happy Englishmen! if we could know
Our happiness, and our too active fears
Of being wretched, did not make us so!
What cause of grief, other than this appears?

XXIX.

France, and the neighbouring Europe, flame in War,
Seeking by Arms each others rest t' invade;
But while they burn and bleed, we only, are
Rich in an envied Peace, and Forein Trade.

XXX.

While there, nor Church, nor Sanctuary can
Shield the rich Merchant from the armed rout,
Nor Virgin from the Lust of furious man.
Our Island one Asylum seems, throughout.

XXXI.

Sacred and Civil Structures there decrease,
And while to Arms their lofty heads submit,
We are imploy'd in the best Works of Peace,
And erect Temples to the God of it.

L'ENVOY

Rise noblest Work, rise above Envy's eye,
Never in thy own Ruines more to lie,
Till the whole world finds but one obsequy.

Rise to that noted heighth, that Spain, and France,
Nay, Italy, may by their confluence
To our North Wonder, thy great Name advance.

And, what's to Protestants of better sense,
Make them confess our English Church expence,
And Beauty, equals their Magnificence.





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