![Ecclesiastical Sonnets - Part II. - XLIV - Troubles Of Charles The First, By: William Wordsworth](https://i0.wp.com/poetrycatalog.com/wp-content/uploads/2023/09/Ecclesiastical-Sonnets-Part-II-XLIV-Troubles-Of-Charles-The-First-By-William-Wordsworth.png?resize=750%2C420&ssl=1)
Even such the contrast that, where’er we move,
To the mind’s eye Religion doth present;
Now with her own deep quietness content;
Then, like the mountain, thundering from above
Against the ancient pine-trees of the grove
And the Land’s humblest comforts. Now her mood
Recalls the transformation of the flood,
Whose rage the gentle skies in vain reprove;
Earth cannot check. O terrible excess
Of headstrong will! Can this be Piety?
No, some fierce Maniac hath usurped her name;
And scourges England struggling to be free:
Her peace destroyed! her hopes a wilderness!
Her blessings cursed, her glory turned to shame!