Him shall no sunshine from the fields of azure, -No morning gun from the black fort's embrasure, No more, surveying with an eye impartial Shall the gaunt figure of the old Field Marshal For in the night, unseen, a single warrior, Dreaded of man, and surnamed the Destroyer, He passed into the chamber of the sleeper, And as he entered, darker grew, and deeper, He did not pause to parley or dissemble, Ah! what a blow! that made all England tremble Meanwhile, without, the surly cannon waited, Nothing in Nature's aspect intimated That a great man was dead. HAUNTED HOUSES. ALL houses wherein men have lived and died We meet them at the door-way, on the stair, A sense of something moving to and fro. There are more guests at table, than the hosts Is thronged with quiet, inoffensive ghosts, 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; The spirit-world around this world of sense Wafts through these earthly mists and vapors dense A vital breath of more ethereal air. Our little lives are kept in equipoise 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 So from the world of spirits there descends IN THE CHURCHYARD AT CAMBRIDGE. IN the village churchyard she lies, Dust is in her beautiful eyes, No more she breathes, nor feels, nor stirs ; At her feet and at her head Lies a slave to attend the dead, But their dust is white as hers. Was she a lady of high degree, And foolish pomp of this world of ours? And lowliness and humility, The richest and rarest of all dowers? Who shall tell us? No one speaks; By those who are sleeping at her side. 87 THE EMPEROR'S BIRD'S-NEST. ONCE the Emperor Charles of Spain, Long besieged, in mud and rain, Up and down the dreary camp, Cursed the Frenchmen, cursed the weather. Thus as to and fro they went, Over upland and through hollow, Giving their impatience vent, Yes, it was a swallow's nest, Built of clay and hair of horses, Mane, or tail, or dragoon's crest, Found on hedge-rows east and west, After skirmish of the forces. |