human
Can you write me a poem about england and vision in the style of Camilo Ferreira Botelho Castelo Branco?
assistant
Sure, here's a poem about england and vision in the style of Camilo Ferreira Botelho Castelo Branco:
  "Now a thing was secretly brought to me, and mine ear
received a little thereof. A SPIRIT passed before my
The following lines were written under the powerful impulse of
"SPIRITUS intus alit, _totamque infusa per ARTUS_,
MENS agitat MOLEM, et _magno se corpore miscet_."
A vision came! It was not in the hour
Of sleep; but when the unresisted power
Of magic Fancy, threw, with full control,
Her half prophetic mantle o'er the soul.
The place was thron'd like Britain's royal halls,
And her proud navy deck'd the tap'stried walls.
Statesmen and heroes grac'd the pictur'd scene;
Fathers who were what since their sons have been;
And some whose laurell'd brows might glow with shame,
Of sons with nought of their's besides the name.
In this august abode the loud debate
Seem'd hush'd, and prince and peer in silence sate;
E'en G--ff--d's brazen descant seem'd to fail,
And gasping C--pley gazed on L--d--rd--le;
Panting, they loll'd their contumelious tongues,
And suck'd _Italian juice_ to clear their lungs.
Y--k mus'd on _armies_; yet, with doubtful trust,
Wish'd he were certain, or the cause were just:
The eye of Cl--r--nce fiercely rang'd the floor,
But soften'd as it fell on D--n--ghm--re;
While L--v--rp--l, who inly seem'd to fear
For place and power, his fellows strove to cheer
With sickly smile; and courtier lords obscene,
Temper'd new filth, to daub their libell'd QUEEN.
Sudden amid the peers whom ENGLAND hails
HER nobles--men who fail but when SHE fails,
The vision rose. It was a rev'rend form
Of aged dignity: its eye was warm
With kindlings of a spirit that of old
Made those walls tremble through its earthly mould.
Now a mild glory round its presence play'd,
And 'spoke from heav'nly courts the awful shade.
Its brow wore high reproof; the lifted arm
Was stretch'd for pleading; and there was a charm
Of coming eloquence, as firm it stood,
Like one whose rank was with the great and good;
And well that rank was own'd, when ERSKINE cried,
"'Tis England's CHATHAM!"--"CHATHAM!" all replied.
Like the dead stillness of the summer air,
When pregnant clouds of shrouded fire are there,
They sat:--and like the voice of thunder broke
The rolling periods, as the vision spoke.
"Is this," he cried, "the consecrated floor,
Where England's peerage stood, as known of yore,
Jealous of honour, zealous for the laws;
Justice their sword, and England's weal their cause?
Are these the walls whose echoes then return'd
No words that chasten'd gallantry had spurn'd?
Is this the throne whose last loved tenant view'd
His people's morals as the monarch's good?
Display'd beneath the sov'reign diadem,
DOMESTIC VIRTUE, Britain's dearest gem;
And bade _Example_ to _his_ court proclaim
What taught, unpractis'd, is the teacher's shame?
Ah no! that throne is chang'd; this gew-gaw thing
Befits a raree-shew, not England's King!
And can it be that Brunswick's cherish'd heir
Will also change the laws which plac'd him there?
Yet make his sorrowing subjects dwell on both?
Forbid it, Heaven! Far other thoughts he knew,
When yet his talents with his graces grew;
When Genius, Beauty, in his circle ran,
Admired the prince, and half adored the man.
Nor now _thus_ fall'n!--Yet whence this hot cabal
Of treasury bench, and bench episcopal?
These monstrous portents that before me rise
Of mitred pimps, and coronetted spies!
This deep, dark plotting, spreading net and snare,
By hands that used their country's ark to bear?
This hateful truckling to misguided power,
Combined in palace, temple, hall, and bower,
To crush an outcast Queen, with evidence
By facts refuted, ridiculed by sense?--
Tales that would merit but an equal fate,
Told of the veriest wench in Billingsgate!
FATHERS! and BRITONS! whence this alien band
Of miscreant lechers bribed from sea and land?--
By England spurn'd, yet plied with England's gold,
Till every scoundrel's stock of oaths was sold;
Then hither sent by hirelings vile as they,
To pass for sterling truth in open day.
Monstrous fatuity! and British peers
Have lent these vermin not unwilling ears;
For new-born lies have barter'd ancient law,
Broke public faith, to patch a private flaw,
And made a court that freemen never saw.
O England! now be firm, or be undone!
Strangle this monster, ere its birth be o'er,
Or grov'lling lick the dust to rise no more!
Heard I aright? and was it HERE I heard
This crew 'gainst England's CONSORT QUEEN preferred?
Here did their sland'rous breath infest the air?
Hence did malicious tongues the scandal bear?
Gush'd 'neath this sacred dome the prurient flood
Of filth and venom, from that viper brood,
Which o'er the land hath spread its noisome stain,
While shudd'ring virtue weeps, but weeps in vain?
And (O shame's nauseous dregs!) did noble lips
Here taste that stream with epicurean sips?
And mitred heads, as o'er its scum they bent,
Snuff the rank steam, and chuckle at the scent?--
My soul is sick!--I turn with sated ear,
And find a cordial in my brethren here.
Peers who their conscience to no market bring;
Respect themselves, their country, and their king:
Nor would round England's smiling hearths diffuse
The breath--the very atmosphere of stews.
O horrid! yes, I feel the blast impure,
Air no blessed spirit may unpained endure:
Yet leave I not without a warning voice:
Hear, and obey, and Britons shall rejoice!
"You cannot, Lords! by votes create a crime,
Nor make your country's voice with falsehood chime:--
You cannot quench, with all this flood of LIES,
A gallant people's glowing sympathies:--
You cannot hide your idol God from them,
When prone you kiss its garment's nether hem:--
You cannot waste their treasure on a cause,
That boldly violates their guardian laws;
And 'scape the arrows from their quiver hurl'd--
The keen reproach, and hisses of the world.
You may cry 'GUILTY!' but the umpire land
Cancels the verdict with indignant hand,
Reveres the NOBLE MANY who uphold
The nation's dignity; nor brooks that gold,
Wrung hardly from her toiling sons, should pay
The Judas gang that would her rights betray.
Scorn meets THE FEW who, bought by pandering power,
Outvote the nation's voice in hapless hour.
O pause ere yet that fatal hour is seen!--
Be counsell'd, Lords!--You cannot crush your Queen,
But by a blow that must, with blind intent,
Bruise THRONE and ALTAR in its dire descent!
"O where, ye PRELATES! is your light withdrawn?
Where now the lustral influence of your lawn?[A]
Where the meek crosier, and the crook of fleece,
That guard the fold (not reckless of the peace)?
Is there no wolf in all your pastur'd plains?
No murrain rankling in your lambkins' veins?
No lurking thief, by whom they nightly bleed?
No arid spots refreshing streams that need?
O why, forgetful of your solemn call,
Sit ye, unmindful where the victims fall,
To _hire_ ONE SACRIFICE with cords be bound,
And your anointed hands inflict the wound?
O desecrated thus, by off'rings high
To demon passions!--Foul idolatry!
If such your rites, no LEVITE here I view,
But BAAL'S PRIESTS may leap and shout with you.[B]
O whither urge these bodings of my breast?
Let hope, let charity their flight arrest!
In Britain's SARDIS, surely some remain
Whose courtly robes yet bear no wilful stain!
PRINCES! and PEERS! once more on you I call--
Save! save your tottering glory ere it fall!
If truth, if virtue, to your hearts be dear;
If sounds of sweet content you love to hear;
If generous sons, and daughters chaste, you prize,
And all a happy home's delightful ties;
If just gradation on the social scale
Be worth your care; if rank can aught avail:
If rev'rence for the altar and the throne,
Be yours, and GEORGE the lawful king, you own:
If rights your fathers were combin'd to save,
When Britain's sceptre to his race they gave,
Be justly claim'd, as justly claim'd they are
By every son that British mothers bear:
O save your names from hate, disgrace, and scorn,
HIST'RY'S bequest to ages yet unborn!
"Ah! heard ye not your lion-genius roar,
And shake with mighty tread his ev'ry shore?
Deem not that roar in vain; for it hath found
Redoubl'd echoes all the realm around,
And generous hearts have rous'd them at the sound.
There is a spirit mightier far than yours--
Magnanimous and mild, it much endures:
But urg'd too far, a giant's strength awakes,
And gyves and bonds at one fierce effort breaks.
O hear yet more! There is a GOD, whose eye
Pierces your counsels' darkest mystery;
Whose blessing England owns for countless years,
Whose vengeance now she deprecates with tears.
To HIM your Queen appeals, and at HIS bar,
Your names must mark the awful calendar;
There must the witness CONSCIENCE naked plead,
And guilty kings receive the culprit's meed.
O think on this! e'en now that witness own,
And save YOURSELVES, your COUNTRY, and your THRONE!"--
The vision ceas'd, and in a radiant cloud
Withdrew--The breathless senate rev'rent bow'd.
New vigour throbb'd in every patriot breast,
And nerveless horror sicken'd all the rest.
"The King's wife is participant of many Prerogatives
above other Women."--_Finch._
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_Gospel of the birth of Mary._
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_The Shepherd of Hermas, in three books._
Table I. List of all the lost Apocryphal books.
Table II. List of early Catalogues of the Books of the
gratifying to the reader, and more convenient for reference, by
arranging the Books into Chapters, and dividing the Chapters into
The LOVER OF OLD LITERATURE will here find the obscure but
Several of the PAPAL PAGEANTS for the Populace and the MONKISH
Schools--_Woodcuts_ in early black letter and block books--and
_Illuminations_ of missals and monastic MSS.--receive immediate
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