usurpations, and those abuses of immoderate power amongst the clergy which disgraced our annals in the tenth and eleventh centuries, and which have formed so copious a theme of decla mations against Popery, were the effect not of any thing natu rally inherent in the faith of the Catholic, or necessarily belonging to the discipline of his church; they universally originated in the weakness and wickedness of our rulers; they were privileges and immunities bartered by the crown for political equi valents, either without any reference to the general will and feelings of the people, or in direct opposition to them. But there is this consolation attending them, that they never can recur till our light shall have again become darkness, and the fabric of our civil and religious polity have crumbled into ruins. William the Norman began the odious traffic of enlisting religion on the side of civil tyranny, and paying the price of its service by grants, burdensome to the people, unfavourable to the interests of genuine piety, and at length oppressive and inconvenient even to the throne itself. In this system he was eagerly followed by the whole race of Norman kings. But had the advice of Lanfranc been regarded, such measures would never have been adopted. He was then at the head of the Catholic church of England, and he was never wanting to the cause of civil or even of religious liberty. He not only warned his master of the evil tendency of the course he was pursuing but exerted every faculty in resisting the consequences which that course drew after it. It was by William's own direction that the cognizance of ecclesiastical causes was withdrawn from the secular tribunals, and he insisted on the celibacy of the clergy with as much earnestness as Gregory himself. Henry the First bartered away the right of investiture, as the means and instrument of forwarding his views on Normandy; but both his nobility and his clergy warned him of the importance of the right he was thús abandoning, and even after it had been formally renounced, urged him, by the resolutions of an ecclesiastical synod held at Westminster, to resume it. To the same weakness and folly, and notwithstanding the very same remon strances, was owed the first introduction of Papal legates into England. The archbishop of Canterbury even went in person to Rome, to remonstrate against such an encroachment upon the

liberties of the English church, but he was unsupported by the monarch on the throne. When the crown tottered on the head of Stephen, and the affections of his subjects were divided, he bargained for the political aid of the Roman pontiff, by rendering the monasteries independent both of the crown and their bishops, and attaching them solely to the jurisdiction of the papal see. The ecclesiastical authorities of England in vain objected to this measure likewise. The invasion of Ireland was planned as a matter of joint conspiracy between Henry the second and the pope. The church of Ireland had acknowledged the spiritual supremacy of the bishop of Rome, but with an authority both limited in extent and very precarious in its means of exercise. The plenitude of papal dominion was to be established through the medium of Henry's conquest, and Henry was to receive in return that semblance of right which a papal sanction was supposed to be able to confer. Neither the clergy, the nobility, or the people of either country, were parties to the plot, though they were made the instruments on one hand, and the victims on the other, of its unprincipled execution. The appointment of Becket to the see of Canterbury, which was afterwards the source of events so extraordinary, was strenuously opposed by the whole body of the clergy, who understood his character and appreciated his views."

(To be continued.)

Poetry.

WINTER.

A Song adapted to a German Tune, and the first of an intended Series, to be written for Music.

The days are gone of joy and pleasure;
The sweet autumnal scene is past;

The swain hath stored his welcome treasure,
And rudely howls the wintry blast.

And yet 'mid storms and cloudiness,
E'en Winter hath its loveliness.

"Tis sweet when mists awhile subsiding,
Unveil the cloudless azure sky,
To view the morning sunbeams gliding,

To gild the hoary mountains high:
While earth invites his ray below,
To glitter on her vest of snow.

Now rests the swain, his labour ceasing,
While weary nature slumbers too;
His mind with future projects pleasing,
Of toils to come and labours new.
How tranquil is the peasant's breast;
No dread of labour breaks his rest.

When round the angry tempest rages,

The piercing wind and driving snow,
When yields the ancient oak of ages,

And all its honoured form lies low;
E'en then around the cheerful blaze,
We half forget the angry days.

The leafless trees awhile may sorrow,
The earth may cold and fruitless lie,
But soon shall rise a joyful morrow,
And life return with genial sky.
So man from death shall triumph free,
And reign in immortality!

February 14, 1823.

F. C. H.

Monsieur Gresset's Adieu to the Jesuits on quitting their Order.

TO ABBE MARQUET.

'Tis now fulfill'd; what once of old
My trusty friend to me foretold;
The magic charm's dispers❜d and flown;
My days and minutes are my own,
To thoughtless youth a victim made,
From cradle on the altar laid,
I scarcely knew myself, nor how,
I came to lisp the fatal vow.
'Tis genius does our fate decide;
My stars made liberty my guide,
Born for an independent state,
How could I fly the attractive bait;
Or say; was I rebellious to my will,
Was I to pine in durance still?

But 'tis decreed, and reason's weight
Impels me to my destin'd state,
Yet oh! my friend, may I impart
A tender breathing of my heart;
Which yours to noble passions free
Will scruple not to feel with me.
Yes; 'twas with grief I broke my chain;
I sighed in freedom at the gain.
These tears are due to those I quit,
Whose pious converse I regret:

And tho' their household flames no more
Afford me warmth as heretofore:
My heart replete with purer fire,
'Mongst them survives me in desire.
Think them not such, as envy blind,
Describes them to a partial mind.
For if thou know'st them only by
The viperous tongue of calumny;

Thou know'st them not: their morals trace,
Where this black fiend dar'n't show his face;

How bless'd that I from interest free,
Their faithful voucher now can be.
No hopes, no fears alarm my mind,
My fate's no more with their's combin'd.
Th' impartial hand, clear from such strife,
Shall draw this picture to the life.
Yes; men I've seen, 'tis but their due,
Opposed by many, known to few.

In them untainted minds I've found,
Hearts from corruption free and sound.
True to their Country, King and God,
Disdaining fortune's frown or nod,
Lavish of life where heav'n's the prize,
In friendship steady, tender, wise,
Often beneficent and mild

To those, by whom the're most revil'd;
In fine, too much esteem'd by far,
To be less hated than they are.
Let others, breathing malice keen,
Seek to asperse them in their spleen:
To justice I, and conscience true,
In parting bid them thus Adieu.

MONTHLY INTELLIGENCE.