Then fell upon the house a sudden gloom, A shadow on those features fair and thin; And softly, from that hushed and darkened room, How strange it seems! These Hebrews in their graves. Close by the street of this fair seaport Silent beside the never-silent waves, Two angels issued, where but one went The trees are white with dust, that o'er in. All is of God! If he but wave his hand, The mists collect, the rain falls thick and loud, Till, with a smile of light on sea and land, 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? DAYLIGHT AND MOONLIGHT. IN broad daylight, and at noon, In broad daylight, yesterday, But at length the feverish day their sleep Wave their broad curtains in the south-wind's breath, While underneath these leafy tents they The long, mysterious Exodus of VICTOR GALBRAITH. UNDER the walls of Monterey In the mist of the morning damp and gray, These were the words they seemed to say: "Come forth to thy death, Victor Galbraith!' Forth he came, with a martial tread; He who so well the bugle played, Victor Galbraith!" He looked at the earth, he looked at the sky, He looked at the files of musketry, And he said, with a steady voice and eye, Twelve fiery tongues flashed straight and red, Six leaden balls on their errand sped; Falls to the ground, but he is not dead; His name was not stamped on those balls of lead, And they only scath Three balls are in his breast and brain, The water he drinks has a bloody stain; Forth dart once more those tongues of flame, And the bugler has died a death of shame, His soul has gone back to whence it came, Under the walls of Monterey |