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When, steadily steering landward,

A ship was seen below, And they knew it was Lamberton, Master,

Who sailed so long ago.

On she came, with a cloud of canvas,

Right against the wind that blew, Until the eye could distinguish

The faces of the crew.

Then fell her straining topmasts,

Hanging tangled in the shrouds, And her sails were loosened and lifted,

And blown away like clouds.

And the masts, with all their rigging,

Fell slowly, one by one,
And the hulk dilated and vanished,

As a sea-mist in the sun!

And the people who saw this marvel

Each said unto his friend,
That this was the mould of their vessel,

And thus her tragic end.

And the pastor of the village

Gave thanks to God in prayer, That, to quiet their troubled spirits,

He had sent this Ship of Air.

THE WARDEN OF THE CINQUE PORTS.

A Mist was driving down the British Channel,

The day was just begun,
And through the window-panes, on floor and panel,

Streamed the red autumn sun.

It glanced on flowing flag and rippling pennon,

And the white sails of ships;
And, from the frowning rampart, the black cannon

Hailed it with feverish lips.

Sandwich, and Romney, Hastings, Hithe, and Dover

Were all alert that day,
To see the French war-steamers speeding over,

When the fog cleared away.

Sullen and silent, and like couchant lions,

Their cannon, through the night, Holding their breath, had watched, in grim defiance,

The sea.coast opposite.

And now they roared at drum-beat from their stations On every

citadel; Each answering each, with morniny salutations,

That all was well.

And down the coast, all taking up the burden,

Replied the distant forts,
As if to summon from his sleep the Warden

And Lord of the Cinque Ports.

Him shall no sunshine from the fields of azure,

No drum-beat from the wall, No morning gun from the black fort's embrasure,

Awaken with its call!

No more, surveying with an eye impartial

The long line of the coast,
Shall the gaunt figure of the old Field Marshal

Be seen upon his post!

For in the night, unseen, a single warrior,

In sombre harness mailed,
Dreaded of man, and surnamed the Destroyer,

The rampart wall has scaled.

He passed into the chamber of the sleeper,

The dark and silent room,
And as he entered, darker grew, and deeper,

The silence and the gloom.

He did not pause to parley or dissemble,

But smote the Warden hoar; Ah! what a blow! that made all England tremble

And groan from shore to shore.

Meanwhile, without, the surly cannon waited,

The sun rose bright o’erhead ; Nothing in Nature's aspect intimated

That a great man was dead.

HAUNTED HOUSES.

ALL houses wherein men have lived and died

Are haunted houses. Through the open doors The harmless phantoms on their errands glide,

With feet that make no sound upon the floors.

We ineet them at the doorway, on the stair,

Along the passages they come and go, Iinpalpable impressions on the air,

A sense of something moving to and fro.

There are more guests at table than the hosts

Invited; the illuminated hall
Is thronged with quiet, inoffensive ghosts,

As silent as the pictures on the wall.

The stranger at my fireside cannot see

The forms I see, nor hear the sounds I hear; He but perceives what is ; while unto me

All that has been is visible and clear.

We have no title-deeds to house or lands;

Owners and occupants of lier dates
From graves forgotten stretch their dusty hands,

And hold in mortmain still their old estates.

The spirit-world around this world of sense

Floats like an atmosphere, and everywhere Wafts through these earthly mists and vapours dense

A vital breath of more ethereal air.

Our little lives are kept in equipoise

By opposite attractions and desires ; The struggle of the instinct that enjoys,

And the more noble instinct that aspires.

These perturbations, this perpetual jar

Of earthly wants and aspirations high, Come from the influence of an unseen star,

An undiscovered planet in our sky.

And as the moon from some dark gate of cloud

Throws o'er the sea a floating bridge of light, Across whose trembling planks our fancies crowd

Into the realm of mystery and night,

So from the world of spirits there descends

A bridge of light, connecting it with this, O'er whose unsteady floor, that sways and bends,

Wander our thoughts above the dark abyss.

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