And at last their prayers were answered: It was in the month of June, An hour before the sunset Of a windy afternoon, 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, 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 over, Sullen and silent, and like couchant lions, Their cannon, through the night, defiance, And now they roared at drum-beat from their stations On every citadel; Each answering each, with morning saluta tions, 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, Nomorning 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. 12 |