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And at last their prayers were answered:
It was in the month of June,
Of a windy afternoon,
A ship was seen below, membann T-IMA
And they knew it was Lamberton, Maşter, beroep Who sailed so long ago.i'w dd izsgarsitt h A On she came, with a cloud of canvas,
TU AUS .-5. Right against the wind that blewusipi
Until the eye could distinguish [inh som. The faces of the crew.watno SA Then fell her straining topmasts,
And her sails were loosened and lifted,
Fell slowly, one by one, this bus , to?
And the hulk dilated and vanished, conceitt , As a sea-mist in the sun! si spostamol
And the people who saw this marvel
Each said unto his friend, 179,17
And thus her tragic, end. oprati svoje
with all their time
And the pastor of the village
Gave thanks to God in prayer,
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,
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;
That all was well.
And down the coast, all taking up the burden,
Replied the distant forts,
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,"; 14
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.
ALL houses wherein men have lived and died
Are haunted bouses. Through the open doors The harmless phantoms on their errands glide With feet that make
We meet them at the door-way, on the stair,
Along the passages they come and go, Impalpable 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
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 earlier 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 vapors dense
A vital breath of more ethereal air.
Our little lives are kept in equipoise
By opposite attractions and desires;
And the more noble instinct that aspires.
These perturbations, this perpetual jaroh
Of earthly wants and aspirations high, Come from the influence of an unseen star,
An undiscovered planet in our sky... i por
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.
In the village churchyard shę lies,
No more she breathes, nor feels, nor stirs;
But their dust is white as hers.
Was she a lady of high degree,
And foolish pomp of this world of ours ,