PAPAL DOMINION

By William Wordsworth

Unless to Peter's Chair the viewless wind

Must come and ask permission when to blow,

What further empire would it have? for now

A ghostly Domination, unconfined

As that by dreaming Bards to Love assigned,

Sits there in sober truth — to raise the low,

Perplex the wise, the strong to overthrow;

Through earth and heaven to bind and to unbind!—

Resist — the thunder quails thee!— crouch — rebuff

Shall be thy recompense! from land to land

The ancient thrones of Christendom are stuff

For occupation of a magic wand,

And‘ tis the Pope that wields it:— whether rough

Or smooth his front, our world is in his hand!