Grant, that by this unsparing Hurricane
Green leaves with yellow mixed are torn away,
And goodly fruitage with the mother spray,
’Twere madness—wished we, therefore, to detain,
With farewell sighs of mollified disdain,
The “trumpery” that ascends in bare display,—
Bulls, pardons, relics, cowls black, white, and grey,
Upwhirl’d—and flying o’er the ethereal plain
Fast bound for Limbo Lake.—And yet not choice
But habit rules the unreflecting herd,
And airy bonds are hardest to disown;
Hence, with the spiritual soverereignty transferred
Unto itself, the Crown assumes a voice
Of reckless mastery, hitherto unknown.