From Man in Glory: Translated From Anselm
1. [ANSELM.]
Here holy Anselm lives in ev'ry page,
And sits archbishop still, to vex the age.
Had he foreseen--and who knows but he did?--
This fatal wrack, which deep in time lay hid,
'Tis but just to believe, that little hand
Which clouded him, but now benights our land,
Had never--like Elias--driv'n him hence,
A sad retirer for a slight offence.
For were he now, like the returning year,
Restor'd, to view these desolations here,
He would do penance for his old complaint,
And--weeping--say, that Rufus was a saint.
Here holy Anselm lives in ev'ry page,
And sits archbishop still, to vex the age.
Had he foreseen--and who knows but he did?--
This fatal wrack, which deep in time lay hid,
'Tis but just to believe, that little hand
Which clouded him, but now benights our land,
Had never--like Elias--driv'n him hence,
A sad retirer for a slight offence.
For were he now, like the returning year,
Restor'd, to view these desolations here,
He would do penance for his old complaint,
And--weeping--say, that Rufus was a saint.
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