CANTO r.

Of trhc devotion monkish incense hums,And Love and Prayer uuitc, or Title the hourby turns.

L XVIII.

The Sabbath comes, a day of blessed rest;

What hallows it upon this Christian shore?

Lo! it is sacred to a solemn feast:

Hark! heard you not the forest- monarch’s roar?

Crashing the lance, he snuffs the spouting gore

Of manand steed, o’erthrownbcncath his horn;

The throng’d Arena shakes with shouts formore;

Yells the mad crowd o'er entrails freshly tom,Nor shripks the female eje, nor ev’n affects tomourn.

LXIX.

The seventh day this; the jubilee of man.

London ! right well thou know'st the day ofprayer:

Then thy spruce citizen, wash’d nrtiznn,.

And smug apprentice gulp their weekly air:

Thy coach ofllackney, whiskey, one-horsechair,

And humblest gte through sundry suburbswhirl,

To Hampstead, Brentford, Harrow make re-pair;