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WINDSOK, NEW PI|{MSIlIN(i MiJKARY. •> rillNTl;i> IIV UII.II \M >t MNAIl, IIAI.irVX, N. s. ^ \M 'd]iJ^t}>'%^MM^ ^ ^jj- -..h JOHN JAMES STEWART COLLECTION l?iir lu?i-ucy ^se Qiily, ♦*«*,•;■ m 'i "'i3'i '^O DARCY DUNN, OR THE HAUNTED CHURCH, 'A SPUR IN THE HEAD'S WORTH TWO ON THE HEELS." ERHATA. Sul)scribers un; rcjuosted to observe that the otiiission oi mx page« results from a pruning- decided on at the .Seventh hour, (pp. 20-27) ; but luckily the connection is m.f disturbed. This has cause() — as fair, as blooming- - lOI-Theiirst four lines are fn.m Cary's translation, Mio proper names being changed. WINDSOR, NEW PUBLISHING LIBRARY, 1867. ■..h r The E] An u lf({r lU)i.u7 Use Only, ■■^mm: D'ARCY DUNN, OR THE HAUNTED CHURCH, 'A SPUR IN THE HEAD'S WORTH TWO ON THE HEELS." BY REV. W. T. BOOJ^E. ALSO The English Anachrok, and The American ANAcnROJi An Ode to D' Israeli. or Senator Sumner's Dream, Ulysses Redivivcs, or the next Presidential Election, &c., &c., &c. WINDSOR, NEW PUBLISHING LIBRARY, 186T. .v J (bSJS —i<^ I'i/^l INTRODUCTION. The main incidents of this Story were briefly related many years ago in a book, by an English Clergyman, called the " Life Book of a Laborer.". They took place in a village on the Southern coast of England. University of King's College, ) Middle Bay, j" Easter, 1865. The humble attempt thus to pursue and embellish this story has been resumed during the last few weeks amid many interruptions, which will I trust apologise for some of its many defects to all who will kindly allow an apo- logy for it existence. It is hardly a stretch of imagination to invest the Southern coast of England with the shades of those who, by the invincible tendencies of historic memory, may seem to resume their strife or go down again to their fate as often as the elements are stirred. It is hardly a greater effort, and just as pardonable to impersonate the national Pride and feeling which have lingered about these shores, and have been called into play by the equally vigilant genii of an opposite continental coast. Perhaps a few words of explanation are needed when, as in this story, the impersonation is extended to minor actors and the humble memories of an English village. Foiled in his at- tempt to establish evening prayer, and attributing the difficulty to a genuine terror of superstitious minds, the clergyman endeavours to restrain Darcy from leading both of them on a trail which can only be taken up on the as- ^^• ^ w INTKODUcnON. *i Bumption that these demure villagers are the conspirators of a dark plot. Lights seen thrice in the church near midnight are to the parson a sure sign of weakness in his own over-worked and anxious brain — but to Darcy, who pretends not to believe in them either, they show the only successful avenue of attack. His feelings are fostered and his course further determined by the universal distrust and dislike with which he is regarded m the village. But on consideration he concludes that, if there be a secret, some additional talisman is needed to light him through the mystery. He invokes the aid of Love — a passion which, in this instance, though awakened for reasons of expediency, is kept alive eventually for its own. The opposition of his master to all Darcy's plans is un- availing and brings about a complicated result. Darcy feeling that, as far as his master individually is coacern- ed, it might have been better had he let the sleeping dog alone. The old church which is very dear to the clergy- man, has its interest enhanced in his opinion by being the urn of an admiral's dust — the song of the Admiral's Tomb is his — the pain caused by finding that the repose of the great Admiral is one not undisturbed by a ruthless tread in his also. In songs from the churchyard wo have an impersonation of past smugglers and their opposite feelings are contrasted, namely, those which they experi- ence when the lamps are burning for nefarious designs of their fellow men as opposed to those called forth by a holier light filling the church at that midnight wedding of Darcy, which is the triumph our hero decrees him- self. W. T. B. 68 HoUis St. Dec. 24, 1867. D'ARCY DUNN. I. 'Tis the low roar of the channel- And to this, as common song, Witnesses each faded annal That our ears have listened long : Who are these that at the ferry Of the Norseman and the Zee, Feign to be so old, yet merry. And so void of jealousy ? Hark ! the vicing mermaids tell Of the shores they loved so well : Each can hear the gentle greeting Of alternate minstrelsy On the middle waters meeting To rehearse the ftimous sea ; Or in bowers of noonday green, Or in nightly crests of sheen : Saith the British water chorus,— See how proudly on the shore Is our mistress bending o'er us, Ever singing as of yore: Ah I we want no blast to say Who shall rule the seas to-day I Sing the Gallic witches wildly— We have wooed the ancient din, .#.! DARCY DUNN, OR |i ; We have spoken to him mildly, And our rivers let him in There our sunny South to taste, Tired of thy Northern blast. We too clasp the broad old father With the Severn and the Thames ; Can he ever know another Much loved home of sweetest names- Reap in any other land Grain from every golden strand ? On the ever-heaving mountains Of the fathomless Biscay He may tire, then from the fountains Of his unrest turn away To these marble docks of mine, In the golden sun that shine I Nay, ye Gallic fairies, never — Ocean is our willing slave ; Can the ocean admiral ever Leave his proudest sailors' grave, Who now with my Cornish men Talketh in their hollow den ? Watch he will beside his siren On the shore reclining, While she holds the Harp of Erin All in Emerald shining ; While the sister music flies O'er St. George's eddies — While her stalwart Scotian lover Answers from his purple moor — While his swelling bagpipes over Hill and dale old echoes pour ; Come, sweet Gallia, o'er the sea f THE HAUNTED CHURCH. Join us in our ecstacy ! Seest not British beauties many When the hazy atmosphere ? — How the Gallic palaces Would befit celestial form ? Hence it is a land of graces To the Southern landscape warm. Purpled vines my peasants please Hast thou Anglia such as these ? Graces be ye then for aye, By both land and sea — Strive no more the livelong day, But listen unto me — Unto us who many a part On our beeches played. Weave in song with fairy art For our orgies made. 3 II. 'Twas past the dusty hour of noon, And even wo had ceased our tune — The breezes everywhere were strayed— The tide was out — tiie weeds were laid- The mountain glebe was all aglow — And idle lay men's barks below ; When to the bay came coursing down Some tourist from a northern town ; Thus mused he as he passed me by : — Now cease, weary soul, to sigh, Let past be past, and with it run All ihou wouldst give oblivion ; D ARCY DUNN, OR 'i ti Nor doubt this spot a sweet exchange For much so hard — for all so strange ; - Here, let me gain some needed strength, Here, when short days have seen their length, In view of thine, profoundest sea, I and my billows buried be ! There, whence I come, once calm and bright, Dissatisfaction brought its night ; The murmuring brook to angry scold Is changed, and I am growing old — Sing, great heart of ocean, sing Till mine has ceased woe-revelling I I see in every face a calm. And, sure, 'tis thine that weaves the charm ; The smoking sire, the lolling youth, Are gazing on thy brow of truth ; And e'en the maiden at the well Draws deep from thee a loving spell. Thus, dreamily, through village way That soleirm priest pursued his way. By evening songster — bleating sheep, And waves that endless vigil keep. Lulled downward, till upon him pour Dark shadows from a reverend tower, Where round about that castle wall Long lie the saintly loves of all. Now, from the hallowed shadows free, His longing eyes sweet slumbers see Of his lonely dwelling lane and mead Where soon and long he prays to tread. And little recks, if all alone, One peaceful night, his lot be thrown — If soon his dear ones may abide ji; f THE HAUNTED CHURCH. 5 igth, ght, To bless his life's untroubled tide. A few weeks roll to fix the round Of usance sweet to sight and sound, Linking the pastor's gentle heart With them that bear the labored part Of life, mid whom, some cold and dead, Are hard for angel steps to lead ; Kind o'er them mo«.'ed the pastor's eye In holy trust that bye-and-bye All doubt and stubborness will bend, And veils from factious spirits rend — Not at a mortal's will, but his Whose love and power of love he is. rm III. There is a death Oft in the noon or eve of life — That is not death ; A dying to certain hopes or aims — A birth to otliers that the spirit claims Those daslied — these rising in a brighter day Thou liglits us in the busy world's liighway. Tis death to them that know not evening's charms And still are fired to battle all the storms A careless world prepares for them that try, That will to fight, and dare to do or die ; 0, every change of life or luck or tide Opens a sphere, if low or dull, yet wide, That, viewed from others, is the set of sun, The close of day when no more work is done. -' 16 D ARCY DUNN, OR XII. SONG. There are mysteries many on earth — There are mysteries many in heaven — Here some are of heavenly birth, From the windings of hell some are given. There are mysteries many with God, And wonders of love they disclose ; But, wrapt in the secrets of men. Iniquities oftener repose. At the temples of God here below — At the portals of nature and life We may knock and the trouble will shew Not a law, not a system of strife. To the dwelling of mortals we go — To the haunts of their home or their pride, And fear lest the visit should show Where their sins and corruptions abide. XIII. When next the master and the lad Discussed that sad and dubious theme, Darcy, said he, what news hast had To light the subject with its beam — Not that I bid thee dare to pry On ground that is a neighbour's own, — Or art unfair presume to try — Raise doubts to satisfy thy own ; Bui if of gossip thou hast heard, Or harmless talk, enough to servo An answer to the ill-omened bird That racks my brain and breaks my nerve, THE HAUNTED CHURCH. 17 Disclose it, that by reasons fair I may account for what I know Nor in my breast let linger there A thought that pains and saddens so None sir ; here converse is unknown As in the region of the dead — Each, thought seems scarcely half its own Each narrow mind its scanty bed ; 'Tis muffled notes each man requires To clothe the stealthy words that burn, If thought to louder tone aspires 'Tis on the ocean's boundless bourne ; Stealth in their words and looks and deeds As oacli afraid of each would live — For thee my heart e'en almost bleeds — Worlds, to explain it, would I give. Sires shew me frowns and dames demure Commend me to no daughter's eye, No children bright my looks allure And maidens only seem to fly : No deed of mine such distance makes, Or calls me monster in my heart, Such action all my power awakes And fires my soul to learn their art If art exist, or plots coiispiro To drive thy presence from their homes And change it at their genial fires For Satan's — for he surely comes ; Now reason, man, the pastor said ; And speak the signs that lead thee on, To talk of '.iving or of dead As in thy haste thou late hast done ; If all, alike, involved remain o r" 18 D ARCY DUNN, OR Beneath this stern and common cloud, 'Tis surely nature's helpless bane. By weights ancestral men are bowed : If from a stern and solemn set There spring a cold descended line, Then, wonder not if thou hast found Some nature that's averse to thine : Perhaps the holiow sounding sea Or lone dark hours on leaden wr.ve One reason may afford to thee Why they are silent as the grave : Again old ocean's but the scene — Its tossing space the vision fills — A blinding mist its only screen, And this is bounded by the hills : The mart of commerce is not here — No change of colour greets the eye — Nor strife of foreign tongues we hear — Our varying landscape is the sky : Consider thus till reason bear The fisher's pardon to thine ear. Now softly, master, said the lad, I easily can give thee sign, I'll on thy conscience surely tread Unless my very thoughts be thine ; And thou to me wilt still protest, If forth from evil blessings burn. That I would fain appear my best If good to evil I might turn ; Let what I say be in your eyes The worth of what you please to hold, I deem it as a gotten prize • To text and sermon I will hold I THE HAUNTED CHURCH. 19 And both to thee shall soon be told, "** Now ocean bringeth not to men The manner thou wouldst bid them have ; On souls no surf recoils again, The sailor danceth as the wave, And he is gladsome as the spray. And fearless as the ocean bird That wings its ever-restless way, Above the storm whose voice is heai'd ; Thou wrongest ocean in thy theme — Thy theory could only stand. If thus at sea men strode the beam, And were far other men on land. But they that are true seamen shine On sea and shore as jolly souls. And dance at maiden-given wine As -wlion the ship in tempest rolls. Or lightnings sport along the line. Now for my signs, there's much we see Yet cannot smoothly put in word. If in their mi.m naught wicked be, Then be my voice no longer heard ; In this secluded spot I see Best refuge for a mystery — If two or three can secret things Fast in their bosom dare to hold. Then what, that silent tiding brings, Can keep them from becoming old — Old amid them that hold them dear — And quiet in their faithful breast ; Thus a whole village may appear Wrapt in its grave-clothes at the best For Charles was known to forty men — 20 D ARCY DUMN, OR Each heart was his unuttered den. 'Tis thus I judge, in this fair dell There is a secret 'mid them thrown, They all are sworn to keep it well And each presein-es it as his own : This is no easy silence kept Of slow men ignorant or weak ; 'Tis studied, siu-e, and forced to brave All that inquiry can advance — It drinks not from the rolling wave Its nature free, its careless glance. Few their enciuiries lest they prove A stirring of the depths tlioy love — Lest others, telling where they roam. Should ask in turn of nearer home : How little the great Avorld api)ears ! They never ask if it be well ; Troth, none among them ever hears Unless by couriers straight from hell. The cause itself I dare not hint — I know not what the secret is ; 'Twas struck and coined in Satan's mint- The image is most surely his : If fiitliomed it may be, I trow. One spark into revealing blaze For thee and me I'll quickly blow, And furnish us no small amaze : Darcy! stubborn, rash, yet true Dare not, I bid thee, what to rue Would give a life long pain and fret My very vitals with regret ; 'Tis but the phantom of thy brain That stirs thee so and breaks amain ; THE HAUNTED CHURCH. The secret working of a spy — A sin for finding villainy — Nor less objection could I see Because 'twere ventured all for me : Mark now my word, I'll not consent Nor foster thy unhallowed bent. 27 XVII. SONG. An image that the mind contrives Becomes its very self; By day it haunts, and still it lives With every night-born elf : And deeds that reason seems to point. Or glories help conspire, They burn the oil of every joint, And man's a living fire ; And life-long winds that deaden pains Feed such with virgin power, Till but the death grasped axe remains In hands that wield no more. Througli foes and fight, l)y day and night, Their light has led liim on ; Through spectres bright, through wrong and right, Till every prospect's done ; Though heart of friend, of home and love, Were blasted, passing speech, Though hovering still the prize above Defy man's eager reach ; read the visions of my soul, 28 d'aRCY DUNN, OR My God they are not hid ; If with thy love my lieart be whole, I follow at thy bid. XVIII. Six days were passed, at evening board Darcy and his indulgent Lord Kenewed again the horrid theme That shed each day its lurid gleani — Bore down their spirits to the eartli — Oppressed their souls, and checked their mirth- Now on those seas some kindly oil Seemed to sustain their spirit's toil ; On news the master seemed to pride His soul, and Darcy looked half satisfied ; — And is it so, the master said, That Darcy, you, who long have fed Your furnace-spirit with the cry That hell would open bye and bj'e. And shew my soul the dread content Of fiends and hypocrites attent. In one short moment vanquished lie Beneath a maiden's potent eye — The mighty fallen, and of a truth, His pate is in the lion's mouth. Do you not feel your vengeance dire Leads from the frying to the fire ? I trust that we shall hear no more Of secret caucus on the shore ; Or honest strange and boorish men Who lurk in a designing den — Old Marlin's roughness melts away, iii THE HAUNTED CHURCH. 29 Uis daughter is at homo to-day. lie said— and Davcy's brazen brow Turned on hira as 'twould gaze him througli A look of wonder, and of doubt What words were best to stammer out ; A silent moment — then he tried To chuckle, as in secret pride, Some circumstances change a case. So, even in this revolting ]ilace ; AV'hat wonder if one damsel fair From the great herd, kind Ucaven might spare ; There is no spot in the wide world Where youth can place a pate that's curled And every damsel's heart be proof. Though love were spurned from parent-roof: It is not truly quite so bad •'Twill comfort thee to hnd thy lad Surprised to peace, if peace endure ; And charmed to love, if love can cure ; Well said, my Darcy, if thou be A lover I am sure of thee. XIX. SONG. The world is ice, it thiiws away, When love expands to genial day ; blurred and dull's my optic glass Till cleansed by some consoling lass I Then all things bright come out to view And men are firm and women true — The vale's no more a stagnant pool — And mists right up the mountain roll. i 30 d'arcy ounn, or Oh love is my kaleidoscope, I turn it and it pictures hope — Again, a fairy land is given — Again, it shews the gate of heaven — Again, it speaks my many loves. That they are fair and pure as doves ; Again, the maid I love just now In gorgeous colours it can show. Oh love is my kaleidoscope ! Turned every way it sets in hope, Till some thing breaks my gilded rope, Alas my poor kaleidoscope ! But oh, the villain that could bend To feign love for a selfish end 1 XX. The Sabbath passed as Sundays go In certain little towns belows — Dragging whose length as serpents o'er Men sacrilegious vote a bore. Now Monday's eager day's begun And all the busy greet the sun ; The master smiles and Darcy, now. Swears that he'll never grumble so. But as he walks the parson by There is a twinkle in his eye. The master went that very day More cheerily through village way. And, turning sharp next corner round, Old Marlin at his work he found. Whose teeth scarce let a welcome through Cold and forbidding was his brow, ll THE HAUNTED CHURCH. 31 And, just as usxial, not inclined A more amusing friend to find : Wlien trivial talk had had its Hing And could no more variety bring, The master stopped as though wore lost The tidings that he cherished most : Then recollecting, with a grin. He placed his hand old Marlin's in, As, so to_ say, you social bear I am not backward to declare Good tidings, though you fain would keep The swellings of your breast asleep ; Giving old Marlin's hand a squeeze And pausing, just to take a sneeze, He said, let now my honest friend Congratulations both attend — The pleasant news I joy to hear — Surprising but to promise cheer Still Marlin with a stupid stare ; Of eyes deceptive seemed to list, And yet be lost with wonder whist : Not daunted, still the cleric pursued The theme, and hoped he was not rude ; Saying the love had found his ear Of Darcy bold and Mabel fair : Now when one has a blunder made And would to undo it give his head He looks as looked the pastor then At Marlin and his serving men ; His grasping hand was fain to stop And Marlin's as a cinder drop : For Marlin's face though ever bold Was now quite dangerous to behold — i 32 DARCY DUNN OR A deadly pallor spread his cheek ; No lion would e'er his purpose wreak And shew it in his nol)lo face Or speak the exchang-e of mercy, grace, And all magnanimous display For veiig(3auce to a dying day. To higher degree than Marlhi tried The courteous man he stood beside ; Who paused, retreated, turned about And left old Marlin with his thought Not of the most delightl'ul kind — Yet preferable to the pastor's mind, Who 1)owcd and sad, grieved, and half mad, Discomfited, sought out the lad. XXI. DARCY'S SONG. I've heard of evex'y witching breeze That's underneatli the sun ; Of Chinamen and Japanese, What wonders they have done. With tiny cups and little balls. And wands that fairies use— Of tumblers in theatric halls. And many an athletic ruse — Of gymnasts that along the wall And in the air suspend Their bodies gathered in a ball ; Or rest on either end — That turn their hands to nimble feet, Yet naught of balance lose ; And, using oft, the skill repeat, THE HAUNTED CHURCH. J For fingers swift their toes : Now who would think that sober man Who curbs my wayward soul A trickster such, that if he ran, lie would surpass the whole ; Yet at old Marlin's gate this day He did a stranger thing ; Oped wide his mouth— and straight away He put his foot within.* 33 xxn. YOUNG MARLIN'S SONG. 1 know my mother's eye Can sweep the blue expanse, And mid a hundred boats descry My pennon at a glance — The pennon that our Mabel made — And fixed it where our graceful sprdad Expands the snow white sail : And, at the murmur of a gale, Or boding of a cloud, Her distant voice would seek to hail If accents long and loud Could call to help the sea bird's wail, And bid us hasten home : And from the gunwale of our boat, Beyond the curling foam. Each house and path, and field I note And men, and flocks that roam : * Ho never opened liis mouth, but he put his fcwt in it.— J/?-,. Partington, ;> I d'aUCY DUNN, OR And, wero I lovor warm aiul bold, How oft my oyo would course the Wf>ld ; How would I Htrive to catch Tho faintest motion of my love licyond her father's thatch ! And were my rival to attend lEer lonely hours at noon of day, When she would o'er the sickle bend, Or pull the garden weeds away, I think I'd note him on the brow Of yonder hill, Or coursing in the path below. Make up my mind to thwart his will, And T Avould burn to be at homo And haste to spurn the dancing foam ; But Avhat has caught my father's eye, On sea or shore, his cheek to dye, Or fan it now to pallid rage. And thus from work his thoughts engage '{ See how tho fish are tugging, And linos all taut tho boat are hugging ! lie pauses, looks another way. Turns homeward, and breaks up the day : lie never did the like before. Nor frowned ho ever thus on shore : Ileigli oh 1 he will not tell mo why lie pulls so when the v/ind's so high. XXIII. Old Marlin in his corner sits — His Mabel is not yet come in — His wife in her tea-drinking fits Will tell what yarns she dares to spin ; A-\ TIIE HAUNTED CHURCH. ;J5 For she ia subject to his laws, And all the women hereabout, From Darey's unexplained cause, Keep fiery tongues iVoni breaking out ; So very quiet their meetings are. Their talk mysterious and subdued, Fidike the women of a sphere Where sires are rough, where life is rutle, 01(1 ^Marlin, always so austere. Is darker now, if it can be, More |)U/',zled he than where to steer His bark in stormy twilight sea; lie shifts his legs, ho rolls his quid, lie stirs the kitten from the fire ; An idle son awaits his bid And wonders what's possessed his sire. Young Marlin from the boat arrives And Mal)el fetches garden store ; He wonders if the reason lives. And she, what drove them both ashore. As eve comes on and eve's repast Must gathered be by rich and poor. Old Marlln's wife hies home at last And wonder waxes more and more ; How awkward has the pause become 'Twas ne'er so great before at home, The meal is done — the circle forms As usual by a blazing fire Inside and out a furnace warms And anger-spai'ks are leaping higher. A twitch more nervous than the last Has just convulsed his ailing limb, Ilis partner's face becomes aghast, '.^6 D AHCY DUNN OR, Yet ventures just to look at him ; That cautious look became a stare. She read real trouble in his orb, Mabel draws nearer to the glare As knitting all her thoughts absorbed : Swift yet deliberate burst the storm, As rattling thunder measured is, Marlin inflated all his form, And loudly spoke with half a hiss } Darcy, that villain sprung from York, A vermin that the jKvrson rears, Here has his poisonous tongue at work,. And Mabel's given him her ears,. One little scream could aVIabel give (She was not born nor bred k) faint) So on her face there seemed to live vVU colours that the sun can paint : Had miracles presumed to come To Mabel's aid in some trap door She would have asked the friendly toml) To let her vanish through the floor ; But no such miracle appeared, So artless Mabel sat and heard. Now since such darkness you can feel As once was felt on Egypt's bier, So in some strange reverse of weal There is a silence you can hear ; Thus still was Marlin's glowing cot Till he repeated what he said, Demanding if 'twere so or not In tones that might have waked the dead- Bidding poor Mabel quick disclose What love her own sweet bosom knows — y f : ^;^ THE HAUNTED CHURCH. * Then Mabel faltered out her love— Her mother could no more forbear, Mabel's sad plight she would remove, Darcy may be is not all we hear : Truly, it cost her many a pang To brave her master and his grace, But mother's love within her rang. Then vanished quickly from her face ; Old Marlin as a tiger glared When wounded in some tender part, Then, as in anguish deep he fared For base ingratitude at heart ; And stamping — with a secret look, As given to his wife alone, Jlo said, and all his body shook, A foe not mine nor thine alone — And art thou, Mabel, such a fool As not to take the hint I gave When s ing, if he the parson rule The rolling sea s a shallow wave ; In those few words an argument More potent than the father's ire Was given, and all but Mabel bent To the stern mandate of her sire. 37 XXIV. MABEL'S SONG. Was e'er a net so small, Or toil with meshes made, Oh, love could flee them all When once the risk were made : ■fail i u 8 d'aRCY DUNN, OR Say, who would promise give To swear his life away ? And love is more to them that live- The world dies day by day. My father eyes the sky And braves the perilled wave, His worthy daughter I, And Darcy 's young and brave : The hairs with terror move On my old fatJier's head, Darcy, he swears by else than lovo To love's emprise is led : I know the secret that lie fears, Would Darcy wed with me ; by all his love and all his tears It shall not wrested be — Faithful, if not obedient, I 111 love will live, in love will die. I XXV. There is a soothing in the mind If in the shade of olden tower Or yonder church, our feelin[;s find The calm of heaven beguile an hour ; If here a stranger's lieart r.uiy nse Or wake a Kobbing in his breast. Or raise the fountain of his eyes. Or sigh fov more than inortal-blest : If fellowship he here may feel For those he never knew in life. Or pray for the unconscious weal Of those who still endure the stril'e ; THE HAUNTED CHURCH. :^9 How nearer must the vision lie — How deeper delve each wish and thought For them that for their kindred sigh, Or linger where their graves are sought : And all within the hallowed lane Is nearer, dearer to the soul, For here the very forms remain. Their shadows flit — their echoes rol O nearer yet to him that lives Each on his pilgrimage to bring Tliankful their every story gives Some cause of glory to his king : Thus stands the pastor by the d(jor. Or solenni musing, walks within Deep-pondering of the time no more When ho shall strive with death and sin — When other echoes round t-hall pour With the same choir to attune For one who like him shall upsoar At bidding that must beckon so(jii. XXVI. Sn tlujuglit the master as he stood One morn by portal crowned with rood, I'util his clerk, old Hiram Tune, Approirt-'hed the place at highest noon ; Both passed inside the ancient lorch Lit by a wiiulow's coloured torch ; Thence, pacing through the lofty nave, They stood upon the admiral's grave ; Whose hime — whose life's renowned bent The Pastor spoke in easy vent : 40 D ARCY DUNN, OR He said, There has been in my breast And. Master Tune, there is a thought — 'Tis that I should be better blest Could I accomplish all I ought ; What fruits of life or preaching deck The sphere wherein my labor lies ? Ah, little, little does he reck Who in the path of duty dies. And I intend that Thursday night. And each and every Thursday eve. The lamps should shew their welcome bright, And mellow bells their peals should give. Old Hiram shook his head and said He'd never heard of^such a plan. And hoped the Methodists had not made A convert of the parson's man — Thought twice a week was quite enough If people ever would be good — Was sure men might to fulness stuff And leave to heathen what they would ; He wondered, too, what extra charge Would pay the damage of the thing — Supposed they'd have to beg at large ; In his view money was a song The Dean, their patron, would not sing ; He wondered who would 'ight a lamp Or risk his comfort in the damp ; And then he lowered his whining voice. And spoke in low, sepulchral tones, As to avoid the echoing noise. Shutting a door with hinging moans, Then, glancing furtively around. Perhaps, dear sir, you're not aware THE HAUNTED CHURCH. 41 "But 1 am right, you may be bound, These holy halls unquiet are. They say some dead men know not rest Whose spirits haunt their rotting caves — Father and son that are unblest, And may be seen about their graves ; More may by you be surely guessed ; Now here about this is believed As surely as the Apostles' creed, Ask and you will not bo deceived — But really there's no earthly need — I'll not assist at evening prayer When transepts dark and shadowy are. And not a master, maid or man Will join your reverence in the plan ; And all alone 'twould awkward be — Response can but be done by me. Thus Hiram said, and he prevailed, Beneath his glance the parish quailed : In bitter tones the master told To Darcy what old Hiram said, And Darcy, waxing very bold, Vowed he would punch old Hiram's head. Or serve his ignorance just as well. As Time all powerful soon would tell. XXVII. SONG OF THE ADMIRAL'S TOMB, lie lies becalmed I'pon the open, recHess sea . And, as the living, charmed By death's monotony . 42 D ARCY DUNN, OR Ilis marble barge is on the stream O'er-canopied with many a hue Of gorgeous light and colored beam ]''rom the great window burning througli ; His slow processions all arc o'er — Ilis marches armed from sea to sea — His s(|uadroned Hying from the shore — His narrow rescues from the lee . No more his echoing batteries speak Of conquest at an Et:glish door, Or, far away, the mountains break And shake the sands of foreign sliore. At midnight through no murky mist Forth gleams his proud and starliorno light. For startled pirates wonder whist, Or sliipwrecked seamen, heavenly bright. \o hund)U'd sword from blood-red hands Need symbolize his victory, Or, led in chains, the naval bands Of rival kings delight his eye. No more in rest on festal shore, Where wine-cups flow and mirth resounds. With kindred souls shall he live o'er The flush of war in battle sounds. Now all the echoes he can wake Are what his nmrble tomb flings back — No storms disturb his quarter-deck — The groined roof is his welkin black — Another flag that asks no breeze, Ilis thankful eyes may fill to sec : The trophied spoil that round him lies is of another victory; The untroubled crystal of a sea THE HAUNTED CHURCH. nj)l)earing God's own ark on high Rovcals for him, we trust, no loo; Nor shrouds in mists a foonian nigli ; Of mortal mail how deep the rust, No ruthless tread disturbs his dust- Heaven holds his soul— his mouM'ring breast Is urned in sacred hall — Oh, surely solemn is the rest Oi' th(i great admiral. 4;j XXVIII. That afternoon the open door Proclaimed that Hiram was about. And runnnaging the old church o'er, As was his custom, in and out. So Darcy entered — chose a path Where he could catch old Hiram's eye- Attract his notice — raise his wrath, And seem his wishes to defy. Xow first he entered Hiram's seat Beneath the Pastor's reading pew— Ptit back his head— put up his feet- Half closed his eyes, just peeping through. At once (dd Hiram hobbled up, iVith anger written on his face ; You'll drain, said he, th<> litth; cup Full soon of credit or of grace That's left to shew where you were l)red 1^'neath a pastor's anxious eye- Making the holy place a bed, Aiul worse, for such as you to lie. 44 DARCY DUNN, OR With funny promptness Darcy left To overhaul the prayer-book rows : First Marlin's big one marker-cleft And then the pink one of his spouse ; Now Hiram just had turned a^way, As busy in another place, Darcy proceeding to betray Another freak devoid of grace ; Next Mabel's prayer-book Darcy drew Forth from its small morocco bed, Passing some slips Ms fingers through He left a paper in their stead ; Farther through pews, or long, or square, VV^ith lazy pace ho followed on As noisily as he might dare. And Hiram watched till he was done. Now there are some men in this orb Who, if they only had one eye. Would see, whate'er might seem to absorb, Much more than two could dare descry. And such was Hiram, — Darcy's stroll Was done, and, whistling at the door. He left the uncongenial soul Deep in his work, and planning more. Scarce had his whistle died without. When softly, nimbly, Hiram ci-ept To Mabel's prayer-book, took it out, Purloined the note, and safely kept. What think you now would Hiram do With the small contraband he stole ? Give it to Marlin ? Yes, I know He'd tell the Parson of the whole : Now Hiram meed not thus did bring — THE HAtNTEO CHUIlCH. 45 ll\s woo was of more cruel a typo, But on the stile hard by the spring, In Darcy'a eyes he took the thing — .Vnd calmly, gaily, lit his pipe. This was not all ; next Sunday's mile Old Marlin walked, and came to prayer. And when he hobbled up the aisle, Witli wife and daughter very fair. Poor Mabel stretched her hand to take Her prayer-book from the Bible rack ; But Marlin with a side-loi.'g dab. And evident anger in his look. Most impolitely made a grab And gained possession of the book ; This happened to the amaze of all — Oonfusion in the seat appeared — Old Marlin bitter looked as gall. And Mabel as she greatly feared ; Men's oyes then to the Clerk deferred, For Iliram was a demigod. And from him Marlin, I have heard. Received a most decisive nod. XXIX. Not only the discerning hold Between their hands revenging wrath — The feeblest often, waxing bold. Place toils along another's path ; And thus it stood this very day, Mabel guessed all, and found a way, Hiram was marked for fouler play. 40 D AllCY DUNN, OR ■0- ! Betvveon the morn and evening prayer Old Hiram did not travel homo, And often snored on vestry air Or sat reclined against a tomb ; Now earlier ALabol hied to church, This SaV)bath, by almost an hour — Saw her old foe just take a lurcli In tilted chair by vestry door ; His pipe and jack-knife near him lay, And box of suli)liur-splints to aid The i)ions man to pass the day ; No hesitation Mabel made, She took tobacco, pipe, and matcli, Ajid tinder, cut the matches throu^fh Just where tiie sulphur eitds must catch, Then stuffed the sulplnw in the bowl — Top-dressed it with tobacco o'er — Replaced the pipe, and gently stole Itcturaing through the northern door. How Hiram fared we will not say, Nor presK the analogy too close. Hut my informant to this day Maintains that Hiram had a dose. The Squire came down to church, and marched In solemn grandeur to his scat — His lady, too, extremely starched, And both appearing very great — What horror ! on the velvet nap Was seen old Hiram's huge jack-knife, And, as the mystery to cap, A smell of sulphur smote his wife. While round upon the spotless floor Small wooden pegs were scattered o'er ; THE HAUNTED CHURCH. 4; ud iiKirclicM! The sexton, cobbling shoes l)y tra(h>, Half lost his place the mystery through — Accuscil of being drunk, 'twas said He pi'gged boots in the Squire's great pew But all things strange or true recoiled With double weight on Darcy's head. They said, Unscrui)ulou8 and wild, lie surely is by Satan led ; Thus whom men dread do they defame, Though twice their honesty he own ; To (h'owii him is their studied aim 111 ill-repute, lest he dethrone Some old corruption" or disgrace That bunhns, yet sustains a place : lint as the ocean birds disport 111 ocean wave, yet are not wet. So that which is the spirit's forte No serious blow will ever get ; Heiieath the iloods a dee}) descent Or billows seen above their head An arrowy course need not [irevent. Nor, swerving from their haven, l«ad ; S(} blithe a bird was Darcy's mind That of him what you yet must hear Beats all that you have left behind, And calls him hero of the year. V The hour is come — the night is still — Their dreams beguile men's wayward will- On midnight soon the world will land — I lean my brow upon ray hand, am 48 D ARCY DUNN, OR i And by the shadowy casement stand ; No din disturbs the night-borne air Save blinded owls that hoot afar , Or bitterns in a distant marsh, Or nifi'ht-hawk's buzz with greeting harsh. Or high above yon blessed fane, The swinging of its feathered vane, Or lonely bats with wings awry That fan me as they hurry by ; Thus while in thought I wander on, Or search the day that's lately done, Or mourn so soon another comes Fast urging to eternal homes. My eye surveys the sacred hall In .Sabbatli rest that hallows all Itself, the birds that round it build, IMie many tombs that men have filled. The trees, the sleeping flowers, the air That scarce knows tide or ebbing there ; So rests my sight upon a scene Where I would be if longing eye And wish of good or ill that's fed Could place me with the blessed dead : — When lo ! what vision meets my eye As one by one the windows fill ? And now the lamps are burning high By sudden torch of magic skill : I dream — I wander — 0, my soul, Feed not the phantoms of my brain — And sooner sleep — from midnight toll 'Tis only dreaming hours remain ; And thou art here — recall the man, Noi- drown him in thy little woes, — THE HAUNTED CHURCH. 4^)