Feast of Our Lady of Walsingham

Today is the Feast of Our Lady of Walsingham.

Tip o' the hat to Fr.'s Ray Blake and Fr. Z.

The Wrecks of Walsingham

[attributed to Sir Philip Howard]

In the wrecks of Walsingham
Whom should I choose
But the Queen of Walsingham
to be my guide and muse!

Then, the Prince of Walsingham,
Grant me to frame
Bitter plaints to rue thy wrong,
Bitter woe for thy name.

Bitter was it, O to see
The silly sheep
Murdered by the ravenous wolves
While the shepherd did sleep.

Bitter was it, O to view
The sacred vine,
Whilst the gardeners played all close,
Rooted up by the swine.

Bitter, bitter, O to behold
The grass to grow
Where the walls of Walsingham
So stately did show.

Such were the worth of Walsingham
While she did stand,
Such are the wrecks as now do show
Of that Holy Land.

Level, level, with the ground
The towers do lie,
Which, with their golden glittering tops,
Pierced out to the sky.

Where were gates are no gates now,
The ways unknown
Where the press of friars did pass
While her fame was blown.

Owls do screech where the sweetest hymns
Lately were sung,
Toads and serpents hold their dens
Where thepalmers did throng.

Weep, weep O Walsingham,
Whose days are nights,B
lessings turned to blasphemies,
Holy deeds to despites.

Sin is where Our Lady sat,
Heaven is turned to hell,
Satan sits where Our Lady did sway—
Walsingham, O farewell!.