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 treinble And groan from shore to shore. Meanwhile, without, the surly cannon waited, Nothing in Nature's aspect intimated 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, HAUNTED HOUSES. 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; 369 The spirit-world around this world of sense A vital breath of more ethereal air. Our little lives are kept in equipoise These perturbations, this perpetual jar And as the moon from some dark gate of cloud So from the world of spirits there descends 370 IN THE CHURCHYARD AT CAMBRIDGE. 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; At the rude question we have asked; Hereafter? And do you think to look THE EMPEROR'S BIRD'S-NEST. 371 THE EMPEROR'S BIRD'S-NEST. ONCE the Emperor Charles of Spain, Long besieged, in mud and rain, Some old frontier town of Flanders. 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. Then an old Hidalgo said, As he twirled his gray mustachio, Hearing his imperial name Coupled with those words of malice, Half in anger, half in shame, Forth the great campaigner came Slowly from his canvas palace. "Let no hand the bird molest," "T is the wife of some deserter!" Swift as bowstring speeds a shaft, At the Emperor's pleasant humor. So unharmed and unafraid Sat the swallow still and brooded, Then the army, elsewhere bent, Very curtly, "Leave it standing!" 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, |