Then an old Hidalgo said, As he twirled his gray mustachio, Hearing his imperial name Coupled with those words of malice, Said he solemnly, "nor hurt her!" Adding then, by way of jest, "Golondrina is my guest, 'Tis the wife of some deserter!" Swift as bowstring speeds a shaft, So unharmed and unafraid Sat the swallow still and brooded, Through the walls a breach had made, Then the army, elsewhere bent, So it stood there all alone, Loosely flapping, torn and tattered, Which the cannon-shot had shattered. THE TWO ANGELS. Two angels, one of Life and one of Death, The dawn was on their faces, and beneath, The sombre houses hearsed with plumes of smoke. Their attitude and aspect were the same, Alike their features and their robes of white; But one was crowned with amaranth, as with flame, And one with asphodels, like flakes of light. I saw them pause on their celestial way; Then said I, with deep fear and doubt oppressed, "Beat not so loud, my heart, lest thou betray The place where thy beloved are at rest!" And he who wore the crown of asphodels, The terror and the tremor and the pain, And now returned with threefold strength again. The door I opened to my heavenly guest, And listened, for I thought I heard God's voice; And, knowing whatsoe'er He sent was best, Dared neither to lament nor to rejoice. 66 Then with a smile, that filled the house with light, My errand is not Death, but Life," he said; And ere I answered, passing out of sight, On his celestial embassy he sped. 'T was at thy door, O friend! and not at mine, The mists collect, the rain falls thick and loud, Till, with a smile of light on sea and land, Lo! He looks back from the departing cloud. Angels of Life and Death alike are his; Without his leave they pass no threshold o'er ; Who, then, would wish or dare, believing this, Against his messengers to shut the door? DAYLIGHT AND MOONLIGHT. IN broad daylight, and at noon, But at length the feverish day Then the moon in all her pride, Filled and overflowed the night And the Poet's song again All its grace and mystery. Close by the street of this fair seaport town, Silent beside the never-silent waves, At rest in all this moving up and down! The trees are white with dust, that o'er their sleep Wave their broad curtains in the south-wind's breath, While underneath such leafy tents they keep And these sepulchral stones, so old and brown, The very names recorded here are strange, With Abraham and Jacob of old times. "Blessed be God! for He created Death! وو The mourners said, "and Death is rest and peace;" Then added, in the certainty of faith, "And giveth Life that never more shall cease." |