And now they roared at drum-beat from their stations On every citadel; 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 morning-gun from the black fort's embrasure No more surveying with an eye impartial Shall the gaunt figure of the old Field-Marshal For in the night, unseen, a single warrior, 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, 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 THE TWO ANGELS. [Inspired by the birth of a child to the writer, and the death of Mrs. Maria Lowell, the wife of another American poet, on the same day, at Cambridge, U.S.] Two Angels, one of Life, and one of Death, Passed o'er the village as the morning broke ; 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 recognized the nameless agony The terror, and the tremour, 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. Then with a smile that filled the house with light- 'Twas 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? THE LADDER OF ST. AUGUSTINE. De vitiis [St. Augustine has said in his third sermon, De Ascensione: nostris scalam nobis facimus, si vitia ipsa calcamus." "Of our vices we make to ourselves a ladder, if we tread on the vices themselves."] SAINT AUGUSTINE! well hast thou said, Beneath our feet each deed of shame! All common things, each day's events, The low desire, the base design, The longing for ignoble things; The strife for triumph more than truth; Irreverence for the dreams of youth; |