23 October 2017

Albion's Blessed Curse


Henry chose to downfall on his lust
in twain and millions rent the church
twain for where but one claim
was now one and all else
millions for without Peter
each in his own barque now rows his way.

Henry's daughters war and slay
each the other's pawns
until one has won
and she unwed
but not unknown
now stands bestride the altar gate
some new colossus guarding entry
and births a novus ordo saeculorum
the bastard child of fear and hatred
of all who would say her nay
rejecting all but truths approved
and holding none in esteem
for each can change with whispered oath
of crown or judgement granted
so all truths now are judged by men.

Here crowned rises Tyburn's tri-corn'd tree
to hold all the more of those who seek
Truth, unapproved, undimmed, unreformed.
And they to their fate rejoicing go
as gallows swing and are cut down
growing thus a many tentacled beast
bestride the fields and meadows of
perfidious Albion.

But hark how now as homeward wend
the wayward sons of Regina-past,
the light that rises now from this crown.
Become a great Tri-cornered chalice
filled with wine by martyrs new-made
and now the Blood of Christ.
Here where strident heretics did faith break
with fathers and with Christ
now vows remade
and prodigals dance
with words first Cramner prayed.

Here now the feet of she
who Holy Wisdom banned
now perhaps can yeild to prayers of those
she cast aside,
and in their mercy
be forgiven as
Tyburn's Chalice
in Priestly Hands is risen

Let Martyrs and the blessed
and all who bore this cross
prostrate in heaven beg for all that the Church
has lost and can regain
and all the heavenly host
the weak, the hanged, and the shriven
from out of purgatory can win the souls
of those
that would us very damn.

Love your enemies
pray for them that persecute you
bless those who curse
And even more now
that closer to our God you stand
bring us home
pray us in
hold aloft the chalice of Christ's blood
as light to show the way

Arise three cornered Chalice
in hands whose necks you wrung
and open wide
the portals now
that were once jolly decked.
Full tree of fruit that was the best
our own hope we slew
now open heavenly bliss
that we can dance with the angeles
where we once death did kiss

Bells are rung
Mass is said
where heretics on martyrs trod
but over all
and for our good
there works the hand of God.