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, from the frowning rampart, the black cannon Sandwich and Romney, Hastings, Hythe and Dover, To see the French war-steamers speeding over, 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 Each answering each with morning salutations And down the coast, all taking up the burden, As if to summon from his sleep the Warden Him shall no sunshine from the fields of azure, No drum-beat from the wall, No morning-gun from the black fort's embrasure 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. He passed into the chamber of the sleeper, The dark and silent room; And as he entered, darker grew The silence and the gloom. and deeper 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! THE TWO ANGELS. Two Angels, one of Life, and one of Death, The dawn was on their faces; and beneath, The sombre houses capped with plumes of smoke. Their attitude and aspect were the same; Alike their features and their robes of white; And one was crowned with amaranth, as with flame, And one with asphodels, like flakes of light. I saw them pause on their celestial way :- 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 and 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. |