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. Then an old Hidalgo said, As he twirled his gray mustachio, Hearing his imperial name Coupled with those words of malice, "Let no hand the bird molest," 66 Golondrina is my guest, "Tis the wife of some deserter!" Swift as bowstring speeds a shaft, Through the camp was spread the rumour, And the soldiers, as they quaffed Flemish beer at dinner, laughed At the Emperor's pleasant humour. So unharmed and unafraid Sat the swallow still and brooded, Through the walls a breach had made, Then the army, elsewhere bent, Very curtly, "Leave it standing!" Loosely flapping, torn and tattered, Which the cannon-shot had shattered. THE TWO ANGELS. Two angels, one of Life and one of Death, 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 waters sink before an earthquake's shock. I recognised the nameless agony, The terror and the tremor and the pain, That oft before had filled or haunted me, 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. Then with a smile, that filled the house with light "T was at thy door, O friend! and not at mine, Then fell upon the house a sudden gloom, All is of God! If He but wave His hand, 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 Passed like music through my brain; All its grace and mystery. THE JEWISH CEMETERY AT NEWPORT How strange it seems! These Hebrews in their graves, 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 The long, mysterious Exodus of Death. And these sepulchral stones, so old and brown, With Abraham and Jacob of old times. "Blessed be God! for He created Death!" The mourners said, "and Death is rest and peace;" Then added, in the certainty of faith, And giveth Life that never more shall cease." Closed are the portals of their Synagogue, In the grand dialect the Prophets spake. Gone are the living, but the dead remain, And not neglected; for a hand unseen, Scattering its bounty, like a summer rain, Still keeps their graves and their remembrance green. How came they here? What burst of Christian hate. Drove o'er the sea-that desert desolate- |