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Detains; but tempted now to interpose
He with a smile exclaimed—
"'Tis well you speak
At a safe distance from our native Land,
And from the Mansions where our youth was taught.
The true Descendants of those godly Men
Who swept from Scotland, in a flame of zeal,
Shrine, Altar, Image, and the massy Piles
That harboured them,—the Souls retaining yet
The churlish features of that after Race
Who fled to caves, and woods, and naked rocks,
In deadly scorn of superstitious rites,
Or what their scruples construed to be such,
How, think you, would they tolerate this scheme
Of fine propensities? that tends, if urged
Far as it might be urged, to sow afresh
The weeds of Romish Phantasy, in vain
Uprooted; would re-consecrate our Wells
To good Saint Fillan and to fair Saint Anne;
And from long banishment recal Saint Giles,
To watch again with tutelary love
O'er stately Edinborough throned on crags.
A blessed restoration to behold
