Chant Royal | On the Coronation of King Charles III | By Joseph Charles MacKenzie

By traditional lyric poet Joseph Charles MacKenzie, critically acclaimed Winner of the Society of Classical Poets Competition 2020, Winner of the Scottish International Open Poetry Competition 1994, Winner of the St. John's College Poetry Prize.

Recited by Joseph Charles MacKenzie.

Chant royal is a fixed poetic form which emerged in the royal courts of medieval France.

Chant Royal
On the Coronation of King Charles III

Bells of our joy, our restless prayers relay
Across this many-towered city’s girth,
Beyond these white-cliffed shores, this hope-green earth,
Bells of our grief, but muffled yesterday,
Your voices gather, gather as they spread,
Calling, as once you called the voiceless dead
To Calvary, calling, from spire to spire,
Calling, from steepled town to distant shire.
In sound you wax, in faith the people wane,
O bells of Westminster, our hearts inspire!
Saint Peter, will ye no come back again?

Long years ago, a monk took up the charge
To write the story of this hallowed place:
How in the days of Aethelred, by grace,
A London couple raised a handsome church
On this same spot—the “Isle of Thorns” then named,
Before the Tyburn and the Thames were tamed—
That good Mellitus was to consecrate
And to the name of Peter dedicate,
The favor of the Church’s Prince to gain,
Who holds the golden keys to heaven’s gate.
Saint Peter, will ye no come back again?

The day was fixed, the preparations made,
From near and far the Christian people came
And pitched their tents, their spots to claim,
When, as they slept, long after they had prayed,
Upon the other bank, a form appeared,
And called a passing fisherman, afeard,
To ask for crossing to the Isle of Thorns.
An eerie dignity the man adorns;
Who, landing, bids him wait and there remain,
Until his work be done and he returns.
Saint Peter, will ye no come back again?

Proceeding to the church, a splendid light
And singing choirs of angels follow him,
Intoning many a celestial hymn,
The which befills the fisherman with fright.
Returning later through the midnight’s murk
To him the man reveals his name and work,
How he, the Gospels’ holy Patriarch,
And fisher-helmsman of Salvation’s Barque,
Had come to consecrate this holy fane,
And left upon its walls anointing’s mark.
Saint Peter, will ye no come back again?

Th’Apostle leaves the boatman’s dazzled sight,
Who, on the morrow, makes a heavy haul,
A giant salmon taken in his trawl
He gives Mellitus, proof of what that night
Within his hallowed church had taken place,
The which brought tears of joy upon his face.
The Mass alone was left to offer up,
And when he raised the consecrated cup,
The people’s gladness nothing could contain,
That on the flesh of Christ their souls would sup.
Saint Peter, will ye no come back again?

Envoi
In ancient times, twas on a sacred stone,
Our kings were crowned, to symbolize the throne
That Christ had set upon his chosen Rock:
The faith of Peter whom the faithless mock.
Ye bells of Westminster, ring in the reign
Of heaven’s Shepherd-King, restore His flock!
Saint Peter, will ye no come back again?

© Copyright Joseph Charles MacKenzie. All rights reserved.

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