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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/9565.txt b/9565.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..3ab8ce2 --- /dev/null +++ b/9565.txt @@ -0,0 +1,2922 @@ +Project Gutenberg EBook, The Pennsylvania Pilgrim and Others, by Whittier +From Volume I., The Works of Whittier: Narrative and Legendary Poems +#10 in our series by John Greenleaf Whittier + +Copyright laws are changing all over the world. Be sure to check the +copyright laws for your country before downloading or redistributing +this or any other Project Gutenberg eBook. + +This header should be the first thing seen when viewing this Project +Gutenberg file. Please do not remove it. Do not change or edit the +header without written permission. + +Please read the "legal small print," and other information about the +eBook and Project Gutenberg at the bottom of this file. Included is +important information about your specific rights and restrictions in +how the file may be used. You can also find out about how to make a +donation to Project Gutenberg, and how to get involved. + + +**Welcome To The World of Free Plain Vanilla Electronic Texts** + +**EBooks Readable By Both Humans and By Computers, Since 1971** + +*****These EBooks Were Prepared By Thousands of Volunteers***** + + + +Title: Narrative and Legendary Poems: Pennsylvania Pilgrim and Others + From Volume I., The Works of Whittier + +Author: John Greenleaf Whittier + +Release Date: Dec, 2005 [EBook #9565] +[Yes, we are more than one year ahead of schedule] +[This file was first posted on October 2, 2003] + + +Edition: 10 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + + + + +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK, PENNSYLVANIA PILGRIM, ETC. *** + + + + +This eBook was produced by David Widger + + + + + + NARRATIVE AND LEGENDARY + + POEMS + + BY + JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER + + + + +CONTENTS: + +THE PENNSYLVANIA PILGRIM + INTRODUCTORY NOTE + PRELUDE + THE PENNSYLVANIA PILGRIM + +KING VOLMER AND ELSIE +THE THREE BELLS +JOHN UNDERHILL +CONDUCTOR BRADLEY +THE WITCH OF WENHAM +KING SOLOMON AND THE ANTS +IN THE "OLD SOUTH" +THE HENCHMAN +THE DEAD FEAST OF THE KOL-FOLK +THE KHAN'S DEVIL +THE KING'S MISSIVE +VALUATION +RABBI ISHMAEL +THE ROCK-TOMB OF BRADORE + + + + +THE PENNSYLVANIA PILGRIM. + +INTRODUCTORY NOTE. + +THE beginning of German emigration to America may be traced to the +personal influence of William Penn, who in 1677 visited the Continent, +and made the acquaintance of an intelligent and highly cultivated circle +of Pietists, or Mystics, who, reviving in the seventeenth century the +spiritual faith and worship of Tauler and the "Friends of God" in the +fourteenth, gathered about the pastor Spener, and the young and +beautiful Eleonora Johanna Von Merlau. In this circle originated the +Frankfort Land Company, which bought of William Penn, the Governor of +Pennsylvania, a tract of land near the new city of Philadelphia. The +company's agent in the New World was a rising young lawyer, Francis +Daniel Pastorius, son of Judge Pastorius, of Windsheim, who, at the age +of seventeen, entered the University of Altorf. He studied law at, +Strasburg, Basle, and Jena, and at Ratisbon, the seat of the Imperial +Government, obtained a practical knowledge of international polity. +Successful in all his examinations and disputations, he received the +degree of Doctor of Law at Nuremberg in 1676. In 1679 he was a +law-lecturer at Frankfort, where he became deeply interested in the +teachings of Dr. Spener. In 1680-81 he travelled in France, England, +Ireland, and Italy with his friend Herr Von Rodeck. "I was," he says, +"glad to enjoy again the company of my Christian friends, rather than be +with Von Rodeck feasting and dancing." In 1683, in company with a small +number of German Friends, he emigrated to America, settling upon the +Frankfort Company's tract between the Schuylkill and the Delaware +rivers. The township was divided into four hamlets, namely, Germantown, +Krisheim, Crefield, and Sommerhausen. Soon after his arrival he united +himself with the Society of Friends, and became one of its most able and +devoted members, as well as the recognized head and lawgiver of the +settlement. He married, two years after his arrival, Anneke (Anna), +daughter of Dr. Klosterman, of Muhlheim. In the year 1688 he drew up a +memorial against slaveholding, which was adopted by the Germantown +Friends and sent up to the Monthly Meeting, and thence to the Yearly +Meeting at Philadelphia. It is noteworthy as the first protest made by +a religious body against Negro Slavery. The original document was +discovered in 1844 by the Philadelphia antiquarian, Nathan Kite, and +published in The Friend (Vol. XVIII. No. 16). It is a bold and direct +appeal to the best instincts of the heart. "Have not," he asks, "these +negroes as much right to fight for their freedom as you have to keep +them slaves?" Under the wise direction of Pastorius, the German-town +settlement grew and prospered. The inhabitants planted orchards and +vineyards, and surrounded themselves with souvenirs of their old home. +A large number of them were linen-weavers, as well as small farmers. +The Quakers were the principal sect, but men of all religions were +tolerated, and lived together in harmony. In 1692 Richard Frame +published, in what he called verse, a Description of Pennsylvania, in +which he alludes to the settlement:-- + + "The German town of which I spoke before, + Which is at least in length one mile or more, + Where lives High German people and Low Dutch, + Whose trade in weaving linen cloth is much, + --There grows the flax, as also you may know + That from the same they do divide the tow. + Their trade suits well their habitation, + We find convenience for their occupation." + +Pastorius seems to have been on intimate terms with William Penn, Thomas +Lloyd, Chief Justice Logan, Thomas Story, and other leading men in the +Province belonging to his own religious society, as also with Kelpius, +the learned Mystic of the Wissahickon, with the pastor of the Swedes' +church, and the leaders of the Mennonites. He wrote a description of +Pennsylvania, which was published at Frankfort and Leipsic in 1700 and +1701. His Lives of the Saints, etc., written in German and dedicated to +Professor Schurmberg, his old teacher, was published in 1690. He left +behind him many unpublished manuscripts covering a very wide range of +subjects, most of which are now lost. One huge manuscript folio, +entitled Hive Beestock, Melliotropheum Alucar, or Rusca Apium, still +remains, containing one thousand pages with about one hundred lines to a +page. It is a medley of knowledge and fancy, history, philosophy, and +poetry, written in seven languages. A large portion of his poetry is +devoted to the pleasures of gardening, the description of flowers, and +the care of bees. The following specimen of his punning Latin is +addressed to an orchard-pilferer:-- + + "Quisquis in haec furtim reptas viridaria nostra + Tangere fallaci poma caveto mane, + Si non obsequeris faxit Deus omne quod opto, + Cum malis nostris ut mala cuncta feras." + +Professor Oswald Seidensticker, to whose papers in Der Deutsche Pioneer +and that able periodical the Penn Monthly, of Philadelphia, I am +indebted for many of the foregoing facts in regard to the German +pilgrims of the New World, thus closes his notice of Pastorius:-- +"No tombstone, not even a record of burial, indicates where his remains +have found their last resting-place, and the pardonable desire to +associate the homage due to this distinguished man with some visible +memento can not be gratified. There is no reason to suppose that he was +interred in any other place than the Friends' old burying-ground in +Germantown, though the fact is not attested by any definite source of +information. After all, this obliteration of the last trace of his +earthly existence is but typical of what has overtaken the times which +he represents; that Germantown which he founded, which saw him live and +move, is at present but a quaint idyl of the past, almost a myth, barely +remembered and little cared for by the keener race that has succeeded. +The Pilgrims of Plymouth have not lacked historian and poet. Justice has +been done to their faith, courage, and self-sacrifice, and to the mighty +influence of their endeavors to establish righteousness on the earth. +The Quaker pilgrims of Pennsylvania, seeking the same object by +different means, have not been equally fortunate. The power of their +testimony for truth and holiness, peace and freedom, enforced only by +what Milton calls "the unresistible might of meekness," has been felt +through two centuries in the amelioration of penal severities, the +abolition of slavery, the reform of the erring, the relief of the poor +and suffering,--felt, in brief, in every step of human progress. But of +the men themselves, with the single exception of William Penn, scarcely +anything is known. Contrasted, from the outset, with the stern, +aggressive Puritans of New England, they have come to be regarded as +"a feeble folk," with a personality as doubtful as their unrecorded +graves. They were not soldiers, like Miles Standish; they had no figure +so picturesque as Vane, no leader so rashly brave and haughty as +Endicott. No Cotton Mather wrote their Magnalia; they had no awful drama +of supernaturalism in which Satan and his angels were actors; and the +only witch mentioned in their simple annals was a poor old Swedish +woman, who, on complaint of her countrywomen, was tried and acquitted +of everything but imbecility and folly. Nothing but common-place offices +of civility came to pass between them and the Indians; indeed, their +enemies taunted them with the fact that the savages did not regard them +as Christians, but just such men as themselves. Yet it must be apparent +to every careful observer of the progress of American civilization that +its two principal currents had their sources in the entirely opposite +directions of the Puritan and Quaker colonies. To use the words of a +late writer: [1] "The historical forces, with which no others may be +compared in their influence on the people, have been those of the +Puritan and the Quaker. The strength of the one was in the confession of +an invisible Presence, a righteous, eternal Will, which would establish +righteousness on earth; and thence arose the conviction of a direct +personal responsibility, which could be tempted by no external splendor +and could be shaken by no internal agitation, and could not be evaded or +transferred. The strength of the other was the witness in the human +spirit to an eternal Word, an Inner Voice which spoke to each alone, +while yet it spoke to every man; a Light which each was to follow, and +which yet was the light of the world; and all other voices were silent +before this, and the solitary path whither it led was more sacred than +the worn ways of cathedral-aisles." It will be sufficiently apparent to +the reader that, in the poem which follows, I have attempted nothing +beyond a study of the life and times of the Pennsylvania colonist,--a +simple picture of a noteworthy man and his locality. The colors of my +sketch are all very sober, toned down to the quiet and dreamy atmosphere +through which its subject is visible. Whether, in the glare and tumult +of the present time, such a picture will find favor may well be +questioned. I only know that it has beguiled for me some hours of +weariness, and that, whatever may be its measure of public appreciation, +it has been to me its own reward." + J. G. W. +AMESBURY, 5th mo., 1872. + + +HAIL to posterity! +Hail, future men of Germanopolis! +Let the young generations yet to be +Look kindly upon this. +Think how your fathers left their native land,-- +Dear German-land! O sacred hearths and homes!-- + +And, where the wild beast roams, +In patience planned +New forest-homes beyond the mighty sea, +There undisturbed and free +To live as brothers of one family. +What pains and cares befell, +What trials and what fears, +Remember, and wherein we have done well +Follow our footsteps, men of coming years! +Where we have failed to do +Aright, or wisely live, +Be warned by us, the better way pursue, +And, knowing we were human, even as you, +Pity us and forgive! +Farewell, Posterity! +Farewell, dear Germany +Forevermore farewell! + +[From the Latin of Francis DANIEL PASTORIUS in +the Germantown Records. 1688.] + + + + +PRELUDE. +I SING the Pilgrim of a softer clime +And milder speech than those brave men's who brought +To the ice and iron of our winter time +A will as firm, a creed as stern, and wrought +With one mailed hand, and with the other fought. +Simply, as fits my theme, in homely rhyme +I sing the blue-eyed German Spener taught, +Through whose veiled, mystic faith the Inward Light, +Steady and still, an easy brightness, shone, +Transfiguring all things in its radiance white. +The garland which his meekness never sought +I bring him; over fields of harvest sown +With seeds of blessing, now to ripeness grown, +I bid the sower pass before the reapers' sight. + + . . . . . . . . . . + +Never in tenderer quiet lapsed the day +From Pennsylvania's vales of spring away, +Where, forest-walled, the scattered hamlets lay + +Along the wedded rivers. One long bar +Of purple cloud, on which the evening star +Shone like a jewel on a scimitar, + +Held the sky's golden gateway. Through the deep +Hush of the woods a murmur seemed to creep, +The Schuylkill whispering in a voice of sleep. + +All else was still. The oxen from their ploughs +Rested at last, and from their long day's browse +Came the dun files of Krisheim's home-bound cows. + +And the young city, round whose virgin zone +The rivers like two mighty arms were thrown, +Marked by the smoke of evening fires alone, + +Lay in the distance, lovely even then +With its fair women and its stately men +Gracing the forest court of William Penn, + +Urban yet sylvan; in its rough-hewn frames +Of oak and pine the dryads held their claims, +And lent its streets their pleasant woodland names. + +Anna Pastorius down the leafy lane +Looked city-ward, then stooped to prune again +Her vines and simples, with a sigh of pain. + +For fast the streaks of ruddy sunset paled +In the oak clearing, and, as daylight failed, +Slow, overhead, the dusky night-birds sailed. + +Again she looked: between green walls of shade, +With low-bent head as if with sorrow weighed, +Daniel Pastorius slowly came and said, + +"God's peace be with thee, Anna!" Then he stood +Silent before her, wrestling with the mood +Of one who sees the evil and not good. + +"What is it, my Pastorius?" As she spoke, +A slow, faint smile across his features broke, +Sadder than tears. "Dear heart," he said, "our folk + +"Are even as others. Yea, our goodliest Friends +Are frail; our elders have their selfish ends, +And few dare trust the Lord to make amends + +"For duty's loss. So even our feeble word +For the dumb slaves the startled meeting heard +As if a stone its quiet waters stirred; + +"And, as the clerk ceased reading, there began +A ripple of dissent which downward ran +In widening circles, as from man to man. + +"Somewhat was said of running before sent, +Of tender fear that some their guide outwent, +Troublers of Israel. I was scarce intent + +"On hearing, for behind the reverend row +Of gallery Friends, in dumb and piteous show, +I saw, methought, dark faces full of woe. + +"And, in the spirit, I was taken where +They toiled and suffered; I was made aware +Of shame and wrath and anguish and despair! + +"And while the meeting smothered our poor plea +With cautious phrase, a Voice there seemed to be, +As ye have done to these ye do to me!' + +"So it all passed; and the old tithe went on +Of anise, mint, and cumin, till the sun +Set, leaving still the weightier work undone. + +"Help, for the good man faileth! Who is strong, +If these be weak? Who shall rebuke the wrong, +If these consent? How long, O Lord! how long!" + +He ceased; and, bound in spirit with the bound, +With folded arms, and eyes that sought the ground, +Walked musingly his little garden round. + +About him, beaded with the falling dew, +Rare plants of power and herbs of healing grew, +Such as Van Helmont and Agrippa knew. + +For, by the lore of Gorlitz' gentle sage, +With the mild mystics of his dreamy age +He read the herbal signs of nature's page, + +As once he heard in sweet Von Merlau's' bowers +Fair as herself, in boyhood's happy hours, +The pious Spener read his creed in flowers. + +"The dear Lord give us patience!" said his wife, +Touching with finger-tip an aloe, rife +With leaves sharp-pointed like an Aztec knife + +Or Carib spear, a gift to William Penn +From the rare gardens of John Evelyn, +Brought from the Spanish Main by merchantmen. + +"See this strange plant its steady purpose hold, +And, year by year, its patient leaves unfold, +Till the young eyes that watched it first are old. + +"But some time, thou hast told me, there shall come +A sudden beauty, brightness, and perfume, +The century-moulded bud shall burst in bloom. + +"So may the seed which hath been sown to-day +Grow with the years, and, after long delay, +Break into bloom, and God's eternal Yea! + +"Answer at last the patient prayers of them +Who now, by faith alone, behold its stem +Crowned with the flowers of Freedom's diadem. + +"Meanwhile, to feel and suffer, work and wait, +Remains for us. The wrong indeed is great, +But love and patience conquer soon or late." + +"Well hast thou said, my Anna!" Tenderer +Than youth's caress upon the head of her +Pastorius laid his hand. "Shall we demur + +"Because the vision tarrieth? In an hour +We dream not of, the slow-grown bud may flower, +And what was sown in weakness rise in power!" + +Then through the vine-draped door whose legend read, +"Procul este profani!" Anna led +To where their child upon his little bed + +Looked up and smiled. "Dear heart," she said, "if we +Must bearers of a heavy burden be, +Our boy, God willing, yet the day shall see + +"When from the gallery to the farthest seat, +Slave and slave-owner shall no longer meet, +But all sit equal at the Master's feet." + +On the stone hearth the blazing walnut block +Set the low walls a-glimmer, showed the cock +Rebuking Peter on the Van Wyck clock, + +Shone on old tomes of law and physic, side +By side with Fox and Belimen, played at hide +And seek with Anna, midst her household pride + +Of flaxen webs, and on the table, bare +Of costly cloth or silver cup, but where, +Tasting the fat shads of the Delaware, + +The courtly Penn had praised the goodwife's cheer, +And quoted Horace o'er her home brewed beer, +Till even grave Pastorius smiled to hear. + +In such a home, beside the Schuylkill's wave, +He dwelt in peace with God and man, and gave +Food to the poor and shelter to the slave. + +For all too soon the New World's scandal shamed +The righteous code by Penn and Sidney framed, +And men withheld the human rights they claimed. + +And slowly wealth and station sanction lent, +And hardened avarice, on its gains intent, +Stifled the inward whisper of dissent. + +Yet all the while the burden rested sore +On tender hearts. At last Pastorius bore +Their warning message to the Church's door + +In God's name; and the leaven of the word +Wrought ever after in the souls who heard, +And a dead conscience in its grave-clothes stirred + +To troubled life, and urged the vain excuse +Of Hebrew custom, patriarchal use, +Good in itself if evil in abuse. + +Gravely Pastorius listened, not the less +Discerning through the decent fig-leaf dress +Of the poor plea its shame of selfishness. + +One Scripture rule, at least, was unforgot; +He hid the outcast, and betrayed him not; +And, when his prey the human hunter sought, + +He scrupled not, while Anna's wise delay +And proffered cheer prolonged the master's stay, +To speed the black guest safely on his way. + +Yet, who shall guess his bitter grief who lends +His life to some great cause, and finds his friends +Shame or betray it for their private ends? + +How felt the Master when his chosen strove +In childish folly for their seats above; +And that fond mother, blinded by her love, + +Besought him that her sons, beside his throne, +Might sit on either hand? Amidst his own +A stranger oft, companionless and lone, + +God's priest and prophet stands. The martyr's pain +Is not alone from scourge and cell and chain; +Sharper the pang when, shouting in his train, + +His weak disciples by their lives deny +The loud hosannas of their daily cry, +And make their echo of his truth a lie. + +His forest home no hermit's cell he found, +Guests, motley-minded, drew his hearth around, +And held armed truce upon its neutral ground. + +There Indian chiefs with battle-bows unstrung, +Strong, hero-limbed, like those whom Homer sung, +Pastorius fancied, when the world was young, + +Came with their tawny women, lithe and tall, +Like bronzes in his friend Von Rodeck's hall, +Comely, if black, and not unpleasing all. + +There hungry folk in homespun drab and gray +Drew round his board on Monthly Meeting day, +Genial, half merry in their friendly way. + +Or, haply, pilgrims from the Fatherland, +Weak, timid, homesick, slow to understand +The New World's promise, sought his helping hand. + +Or painful Kelpius [13] from his hermit den +By Wissahickon, maddest of good men, +Dreamed o'er the Chiliast dreams of Petersen. + +Deep in the woods, where the small river slid +Snake-like in shade, the Helmstadt Mystic hid, +Weird as a wizard, over arts forbid, + +Reading the books of Daniel and of John, +And Behmen's Morning-Redness, through the Stone +Of Wisdom, vouchsafed to his eyes alone, + +Whereby he read what man ne'er read before, +And saw the visions man shall see no more, +Till the great angel, striding sea and shore, + +Shall bid all flesh await, on land or ships, +The warning trump of the Apocalypse, +Shattering the heavens before the dread eclipse. + +Or meek-eyed Mennonist his bearded chin +Leaned o'er the gate; or Ranter, pure within, +Aired his perfection in a world of sin. + +Or, talking of old home scenes, Op der Graaf +Teased the low back-log with his shodden staff, +Till the red embers broke into a laugh + +And dance of flame, as if they fain would cheer +The rugged face, half tender, half austere, +Touched with the pathos of a homesick tear! + +Or Sluyter, [14] saintly familist, whose word +As law the Brethren of the Manor heard, +Announced the speedy terrors of the Lord, + +And turned, like Lot at Sodom, from his race, +Above a wrecked world with complacent face +Riding secure upon his plank of grace! + +Haply, from Finland's birchen groves exiled, +Manly in thought, in simple ways a child, +His white hair floating round his visage mild, + +The Swedish pastor sought the Quaker's door, +Pleased from his neighbor's lips to hear once more +His long-disused and half-forgotten lore. + +For both could baffle Babel's lingual curse, +And speak in Bion's Doric, and rehearse +Cleanthes' hymn or Virgil's sounding verse. + +And oft Pastorius and the meek old man +Argued as Quaker and as Lutheran, +Ending in Christian love, as they began. + +With lettered Lloyd on pleasant morns he strayed +Where Sommerhausen over vales of shade +Looked miles away, by every flower delayed, + +Or song of bird, happy and free with one +Who loved, like him, to let his memory run +Over old fields of learning, and to sun + +Himself in Plato's wise philosophies, +And dream with Philo over mysteries +Whereof the dreamer never finds the keys; + +To touch all themes of thought, nor weakly stop +For doubt of truth, but let the buckets drop +Deep down and bring the hidden waters up [15] + +For there was freedom in that wakening time +Of tender souls; to differ was not crime; +The varying bells made up the perfect chime. + +On lips unlike was laid the altar's coal, +The white, clear light, tradition-colored, stole +Through the stained oriel of each human soul. + +Gathered from many sects, the Quaker brought +His old beliefs, adjusting to the thought +That moved his soul the creed his fathers taught. + +One faith alone, so broad that all mankind +Within themselves its secret witness find, +The soul's communion with the Eternal Mind, + +The Spirit's law, the Inward Rule and Guide, +Scholar and peasant, lord and serf, allied, +The polished Penn and Cromwell's Ironside. + +As still in Hemskerck's Quaker Meeting, [16] face +By face in Flemish detail, we may trace +How loose-mouthed boor and fine ancestral grace + +Sat in close contrast,--the clipt-headed churl, +Broad market-dame, and simple serving-girl +By skirt of silk and periwig in curl + +For soul touched soul; the spiritual treasure-trove +Made all men equal, none could rise above +Nor sink below that level of God's love. + +So, with his rustic neighbors sitting down, +The homespun frock beside the scholar's gown, +Pastorius to the manners of the town + +Added the freedom of the woods, and sought +The bookless wisdom by experience taught, +And learned to love his new-found home, while not + +Forgetful of the old; the seasons went +Their rounds, and somewhat to his spirit lent +Of their own calm and measureless content. + +Glad even to tears, he heard the robin sing +His song of welcome to the Western spring, +And bluebird borrowing from the sky his wing. + +And when the miracle of autumn came, +And all the woods with many-colored flame +Of splendor, making summer's greenness tame, + +Burned, unconsumed, a voice without a sound +Spake to him from each kindled bush around, +And made the strange, new landscape holy ground + +And when the bitter north-wind, keen and swift, +Swept the white street and piled the dooryard drift, +He exercised, as Friends might say, his gift + +Of verse, Dutch, English, Latin, like the hash +Of corn and beans in Indian succotash; +Dull, doubtless, but with here and there a flash + +Of wit and fine conceit,--the good man's play +Of quiet fancies, meet to while away +The slow hours measuring off an idle day. + +At evening, while his wife put on her look +Of love's endurance, from its niche he took +The written pages of his ponderous book. + +And read, in half the languages of man, +His "Rusca Apium," which with bees began, +And through the gamut of creation ran. + +Or, now and then, the missive of some friend +In gray Altorf or storied Nurnberg penned +Dropped in upon him like a guest to spend + +The night beneath his roof-tree. Mystical +The fair Von Merlau spake as waters fall +And voices sound in dreams, and yet withal + +Human and sweet, as if each far, low tone, +Over the roses of her gardens blown +Brought the warm sense of beauty all her own. + +Wise Spener questioned what his friend could trace +Of spiritual influx or of saving grace +In the wild natures of the Indian race. + +And learned Schurmberg, fain, at times, to look +From Talmud, Koran, Veds, and Pentateuch, +Sought out his pupil in his far-off nook, + +To query with him of climatic change, +Of bird, beast, reptile, in his forest range, +Of flowers and fruits and simples new and strange. + +And thus the Old and New World reached their hands +Across the water, and the friendly lands +Talked with each other from their severed strands. + +Pastorius answered all: while seed and root +Sent from his new home grew to flower and fruit +Along the Rhine and at the Spessart's foot; + +And, in return, the flowers his boyhood knew +Smiled at his door, the same in form and hue, +And on his vines the Rhenish clusters grew. + +No idler he; whoever else might shirk, +He set his hand to every honest work,-- +Farmer and teacher, court and meeting clerk. + +Still on the town seal his device is found, +Grapes, flax, and thread-spool on a trefoil ground, +With "Vinum, Linum et Textrinum" wound. + +One house sufficed for gospel and for law, +Where Paul and Grotius, Scripture text and saw, +Assured the good, and held the rest in awe. + +Whatever legal maze he wandered through, +He kept the Sermon on the Mount in view, +And justice always into mercy grew. + +No whipping-post he needed, stocks, nor jail, +Nor ducking-stool; the orchard-thief grew pale +At his rebuke, the vixen ceased to rail, + +The usurer's grasp released the forfeit land; +The slanderer faltered at the witness-stand, +And all men took his counsel for command. + +Was it caressing air, the brooding love +Of tenderer skies than German land knew of, +Green calm below, blue quietness above, + +Still flow of water, deep repose of wood +That, with a sense of loving Fatherhood +And childlike trust in the Eternal Good, + +Softened all hearts, and dulled the edge of hate, +Hushed strife, and taught impatient zeal to wait +The slow assurance of the better state? + +Who knows what goadings in their sterner way +O'er jagged ice, relieved by granite gray, +Blew round the men of Massachusetts Bay? + +What hate of heresy the east-wind woke? +What hints of pitiless power and terror spoke +In waves that on their iron coast-line broke? + +Be it as it may: within the Land of Penn +The sectary yielded to the citizen, +And peaceful dwelt the many-creeded men. + +Peace brooded over all. No trumpet stung +The air to madness, and no steeple flung +Alarums down from bells at midnight rung. + +The land slept well. The Indian from his face +Washed all his war-paint off, and in the place +Of battle-marches sped the peaceful chase, + +Or wrought for wages at the white man's side,-- +Giving to kindness what his native pride +And lazy freedom to all else denied. + +And well the curious scholar loved the old +Traditions that his swarthy neighbors told +By wigwam-fires when nights were growing cold, + +Discerned the fact round which their fancy drew +Its dreams, and held their childish faith more true +To God and man than half the creeds he knew. + +The desert blossomed round him; wheat-fields rolled +Beneath the warm wind waves of green and gold; +The planted ear returned its hundred-fold. + +Great clusters ripened in a warmer sun +Than that which by the Rhine stream shines upon +The purpling hillsides with low vines o'errun. + +About each rustic porch the humming-bird +Tried with light bill, that scarce a petal stirred, +The Old World flowers to virgin soil transferred; + +And the first-fruits of pear and apple, bending +The young boughs down, their gold and russet blending, +Made glad his heart, familiar odors lending + +To the fresh fragrance of the birch and pine, +Life-everlasting, bay, and eglantine, +And all the subtle scents the woods combine. + +Fair First-Day mornings, steeped in summer calm, +Warm, tender, restful, sweet with woodland balm, +Came to him, like some mother-hallowed psalm + +To the tired grinder at the noisy wheel +Of labor, winding off from memory's reel +A golden thread of music. With no peal + +Of bells to call them to the house of praise, +The scattered settlers through green forest-ways +Walked meeting-ward. In reverent amaze + +The Indian trapper saw them, from the dim +Shade of the alders on the rivulet's rim, +Seek the Great Spirit's house to talk with Him. + +There, through the gathered stillness multiplied +And made intense by sympathy, outside +The sparrows sang, and the gold-robin cried, + +A-swing upon his elm. A faint perfume +Breathed through the open windows of the room +From locust-trees, heavy with clustered bloom. + +Thither, perchance, sore-tried confessors came, +Whose fervor jail nor pillory could tame, +Proud of the cropped ears meant to be their shame, + +Men who had eaten slavery's bitter bread +In Indian isles; pale women who had bled +Under the hangman's lash, and bravely said + +God's message through their prison's iron bars; +And gray old soldier-converts, seamed with scars +From every stricken field of England's wars. + +Lowly before the Unseen Presence knelt +Each waiting heart, till haply some one felt +On his moved lips the seal of silence melt. + +Or, without spoken words, low breathings stole +Of a diviner life from soul to soul, +Baptizing in one tender thought the whole. + +When shaken hands announced the meeting o'er, +The friendly group still lingered at the door, +Greeting, inquiring, sharing all the store + +Of weekly tidings. Meanwhile youth and maid +Down the green vistas of the woodland strayed, +Whispered and smiled and oft their feet delayed. + +Did the boy's whistle answer back the thrushes? +Did light girl laughter ripple through the bushes, +As brooks make merry over roots and rushes? + +Unvexed the sweet air seemed. Without a wound +The ear of silence heard, and every sound +Its place in nature's fine accordance found. + +And solemn meeting, summer sky and wood, +Old kindly faces, youth and maidenhood +Seemed, like God's new creation, very good! + +And, greeting all with quiet smile and word, +Pastorius went his way. The unscared bird +Sang at his side; scarcely the squirrel stirred + +At his hushed footstep on the mossy sod; +And, wheresoe'er the good man looked or trod, +He felt the peace of nature and of God. + +His social life wore no ascetic form, +He loved all beauty, without fear of harm, +And in his veins his Teuton blood ran warm. + +Strict to himself, of other men no spy, +He made his own no circuit-judge to try +The freer conscience of his neighbors by. + +With love rebuking, by his life alone, +Gracious and sweet, the better way was shown, +The joy of one, who, seeking not his own, + +And faithful to all scruples, finds at last +The thorns and shards of duty overpast, +And daily life, beyond his hope's forecast, + +Pleasant and beautiful with sight and sound, +And flowers upspringing in its narrow round, +And all his days with quiet gladness crowned. + +He sang not; but, if sometimes tempted strong, +He hummed what seemed like Altorf's Burschen-song; +His good wife smiled, and did not count it wrong. + +For well he loved his boyhood's brother band; +His Memory, while he trod the New World's strand, +A double-ganger walked the Fatherland + +If, when on frosty Christmas eves the light +Shone on his quiet hearth, he missed the sight +Of Yule-log, Tree, and Christ-child all in white; + +And closed his eyes, and listened to the sweet +Old wait-songs sounding down his native street, +And watched again the dancers' mingling feet; + +Yet not the less, when once the vision passed, +He held the plain and sober maxims fast +Of the dear Friends with whom his lot was cast. + +Still all attuned to nature's melodies, +He loved the bird's song in his dooryard trees, +And the low hum of home-returning bees; + +The blossomed flax, the tulip-trees in bloom +Down the long street, the beauty and perfume +Of apple-boughs, the mingling light and gloom + +Of Sommerhausen's woodlands, woven through +With sun--threads; and the music the wind drew, +Mournful and sweet, from leaves it overblew. + +And evermore, beneath this outward sense, +And through the common sequence of events, +He felt the guiding hand of Providence + +Reach out of space. A Voice spake in his ear, +And to all other voices far and near +Died at that whisper, full of meanings clear. + +The Light of Life shone round him; one by one +The wandering lights, that all-misleading run, +Went out like candles paling in the sun. + +That Light he followed, step by step, where'er +It led, as in the vision of the seer +The wheels moved as the spirit in the clear + +And terrible crystal moved, with all their eyes +Watching the living splendor sink or rise, +Its will their will, knowing no otherwise. + +Within himself he found the law of right, +He walked by faith and not the letter's sight, +And read his Bible by the Inward Light. + +And if sometimes the slaves of form and rule, +Frozen in their creeds like fish in winter's pool, +Tried the large tolerance of his liberal school, + +His door was free to men of every name, +He welcomed all the seeking souls who came, +And no man's faith he made a cause of blame. + +But best he loved in leisure hours to see +His own dear Friends sit by him knee to knee, +In social converse, genial, frank, and free. + +There sometimes silence (it were hard to tell +Who owned it first) upon the circle fell, +Hushed Anna's busy wheel, and laid its spell + +On the black boy who grimaced by the hearth, +To solemnize his shining face of mirth; +Only the old clock ticked amidst the dearth + +Of sound; nor eye was raised nor hand was stirred +In that soul-sabbath, till at last some word +Of tender counsel or low prayer was heard. + +Then guests, who lingered but farewell to say +And take love's message, went their homeward way; +So passed in peace the guileless Quaker's day. + +His was the Christian's unsung Age of Gold, +A truer idyl than the bards have told +Of Arno's banks or Arcady of old. + +Where still the Friends their place of burial keep, +And century-rooted mosses o'er it creep, +The Nurnberg scholar and his helpmeet sleep. + +And Anna's aloe? If it flowered at last +In Bartram's garden, did John Woolman cast +A glance upon it as he meekly passed? + +And did a secret sympathy possess +That tender soul, and for the slave's redress +Lend hope, strength, patience? It were vain to +guess. + +Nay, were the plant itself but mythical, +Set in the fresco of tradition's wall +Like Jotham's bramble, mattereth not at all. + +Enough to know that, through the winter's frost +And summer's heat, no seed of truth is lost, +And every duty pays at last its cost. + +For, ere Pastorius left the sun and air, +God sent the answer to his life-long prayer; +The child was born beside the Delaware, + +Who, in the power a holy purpose lends, +Guided his people unto nobler ends, +And left them worthier of the name of Friends. + +And to! the fulness of the time has come, +And over all the exile's Western home, +From sea to sea the flowers of freedom bloom! + +And joy-bells ring, and silver trumpets blow; +But not for thee, Pastorius! Even so +The world forgets, but the wise angels know. + + + + +KING VOLMER AND ELSIE. +AFTER THE DANISH OF CHRISTIAN WINTER. + +WHERE, over heathen doom-rings and gray stones +of the Horg, +In its little Christian city stands the church of +Vordingborg, +In merry mood King Volmer sat, forgetful of his +power, +As idle as the Goose of Gold that brooded on his +tower. + +Out spake the King to Henrik, his young and faithful +squire +"Dar'st trust thy little Elsie, the maid of thy +desire?" +"Of all the men in Denmark she loveth only me +As true to me is Elsie as thy Lily is to thee." + +Loud laughed the king: "To-morrow shall bring +another day, [18] +When I myself will test her; she will not say me +nay." +Thereat the lords and gallants, that round about +him stood, +Wagged all their heads in concert and smiled as +courtiers should. + +The gray lark sings o'er Vordingborg, and on the +ancient town +From the tall tower of Valdemar the Golden Goose +looks down; +The yellow grain is waving in the pleasant wind of +morn, +The wood resounds with cry of hounds and blare +of hunter's horn. + +In the garden of her father little Elsie sits and +spins, +And, singing with the early birds, her daily task, +begins. +Gay tulips bloom and sweet mint curls around her +garden-bower, +But she is sweeter than the mint and fairer than +the flower. + +About her form her kirtle blue clings lovingly, and, +white +As snow, her loose sleeves only leave her small, +round wrists in sight; +Below, the modest petticoat can only half conceal +The motion of the lightest foot that ever turned a +wheel. + +The cat sits purring at her side, bees hum in +sunshine warm; +But, look! she starts, she lifts her face, she shades +it with her arm. +And, hark! a train of horsemen, with sound of +dog and horn, +Come leaping o'er the ditches, come trampling +down the corn! + +Merrily rang the bridle-reins, and scarf and plume +streamed gay, +As fast beside her father's gate the riders held +their way; +And one was brave in scarlet cloak, with golden +spur on heel, +And, as he checked his foaming steed, the maiden +checked her wheel. + +"All hail among thy roses, the fairest rose to me! +For weary months in secret my heart has longed for +thee!" +What noble knight was this? What words for +modest maiden's ear? +She dropped a lowly courtesy of bashfulness and +fear. + +She lifted up her spinning-wheel; she fain would +seek the door, +Trembling in every limb, her cheek with blushes +crimsoned o'er. +"Nay, fear me not," the rider said, "I offer heart +and hand, +Bear witness these good Danish knights who round +about me stand. + +"I grant you time to think of this, to answer as +you may, +For to-morrow, little Elsie, shall bring another day." +He spake the old phrase slyly as, glancing round +his train, +He saw his merry followers seek to hide their +smiles in vain. + +"The snow of pearls I'll scatter in your curls of +golden hair, +I'll line with furs the velvet of the kirtle that you +wear; +All precious gems shall twine your neck; and in +a chariot gay +You shall ride, my little Elsie, behind four steeds +of gray. + +"And harps shall sound, and flutes shall play, and +brazen lamps shall glow; +On marble floors your feet shall weave the dances +to and fro. +At frosty eventide for us the blazing hearth shall +shine, +While, at our ease, we play at draughts, and drink +the blood-red wine." + +Then Elsie raised her head and met her wooer face +to face; +A roguish smile shone in her eye and on her lip +found place. +Back from her low white forehead the curls of +gold she threw, +And lifted up her eyes to his, steady and clear and +blue. + +"I am a lowly peasant, and you a gallant knight; +I will not trust a love that soon may cool and turn +to slight. +If you would wed me henceforth be a peasant, not +a lord; +I bid you hang upon the wall your tried and trusty +sword." + +"To please you, Elsie, I will lay keen Dynadel +away, +And in its place will swing the scythe and mow +your father's hay." +"Nay, but your gallant scarlet cloak my eyes can +never bear; +A Vadmal coat, so plain and gray, is all that you +must wear." + +"Well, Vadmal will I wear for you," the rider +gayly spoke, +"And on the Lord's high altar I'll lay my scarlet +cloak." +"But mark," she said, "no stately horse my peasant +love must ride, +A yoke of steers before the plough is all that he +must guide." + +The knight looked down upon his steed: "Well, +let him wander free +No other man must ride the horse that has been +backed by me. +Henceforth I'll tread the furrow and to my oxen +talk, +If only little Elsie beside my plough will walk." + +"You must take from out your cellar cask of wine +and flask and can; +The homely mead I brew you may serve a peasant. +man." +"Most willingly, fair Elsie, I'll drink that mead +of thine, +And leave my minstrel's thirsty throat to drain +my generous wine." + +"Now break your shield asunder, and shatter sign +and boss, +Unmeet for peasant-wedded arms, your knightly +knee across. +And pull me down your castle from top to basement +wall, +And let your plough trace furrows in the ruins of +your hall!" + +Then smiled he with a lofty pride; right well at +last he knew +The maiden of the spinning-wheel was to her troth. +plight true. +"Ah, roguish little Elsie! you act your part full +well +You know that I must bear my shield and in my +castle dwell! + +"The lions ramping on that shield between the +hearts aflame +Keep watch o'er Denmark's honor, and guard her +ancient name. + +"For know that I am Volmer; I dwell in yonder +towers, +Who ploughs them ploughs up Denmark, this +goodly home of ours'. + +"I tempt no more, fair Elsie! your heart I know +is true; +Would God that all our maidens were good and +pure as you! +Well have you pleased your monarch, and he shall +well repay; +God's peace! Farewell! To-morrow will bring +another day!" + +He lifted up his bridle hand, he spurred his good +steed then, +And like a whirl-blast swept away with all his +gallant men. +The steel hoofs beat the rocky path; again on +winds of morn +The wood resounds with cry of hounds and blare +of hunter's horn. + +"Thou true and ever faithful!" the listening +Henrik cried; +And, leaping o'er the green hedge, he stood by +Elsie's side. +None saw the fond embracing, save, shining from +afar, +The Golden Goose that watched them from the +tower of Valdemar. + +O darling girls of Denmark! of all the flowers +that throng +Her vales of spring the fairest, I sing for you my +song. +No praise as yours so bravely rewards the singer's +skill; +Thank God! of maids like Elsie the land has +plenty still! +1872. + + + + +THE THREE BELLS. + +BENEATH the low-hung night cloud +That raked her splintering mast +The good ship settled slowly, +The cruel leak gained fast. + +Over the awful ocean +Her signal guns pealed out. +Dear God! was that Thy answer +From the horror round about? + +A voice came down the wild wind, +"Ho! ship ahoy!" its cry +"Our stout Three Bells of Glasgow +Shall lay till daylight by!" + +Hour after hour crept slowly, +Yet on the heaving swells +Tossed up and down the ship-lights, +The lights of the Three Bells! + +And ship to ship made signals, +Man answered back to man, +While oft, to cheer and hearten, +The Three Bells nearer ran; + +And the captain from her taffrail +Sent down his hopeful cry +"Take heart! Hold on!" he shouted; +"The Three Bells shall lay by!" + +All night across the waters +The tossing lights shone clear; +All night from reeling taffrail +The Three Bells sent her cheer. + +And when the dreary watches +Of storm and darkness passed, +Just as the wreck lurched under, +All souls were saved at last. + +Sail on, Three Bells, forever, +In grateful memory sail! +Ring on, Three Bells of rescue, +Above the wave and gale! + +Type of the Love eternal, +Repeat the Master's cry, +As tossing through our darkness +The lights of God draw nigh! +1872. + + + + +JOHN UNDERHILL. + +A SCORE of years had come and gone +Since the Pilgrims landed on Plymouth stone, +When Captain Underhill, bearing scars +From Indian ambush and Flemish wars, +Left three-hilled Boston and wandered down, +East by north, to Cocheco town. + +With Vane the younger, in counsel sweet, +He had sat at Anna Hutchinson's feet, +And, when the bolt of banishment fell +On the head of his saintly oracle, +He had shared her ill as her good report, +And braved the wrath of the General Court. + +He shook from his feet as he rode away +The dust of the Massachusetts Bay. +The world might bless and the world might ban, +What did it matter the perfect man, +To whom the freedom of earth was given, +Proof against sin, and sure of heaven? + +He cheered his heart as he rode along +With screed of Scripture and holy song, +Or thought how he rode with his lances free +By the Lower Rhine and the Zuyder-Zee, +Till his wood-path grew to a trodden road, +And Hilton Point in the distance showed. + +He saw the church with the block-house nigh, +The two fair rivers, the flakes thereby, +And, tacking to windward, low and crank, +The little shallop from Strawberry Bank; +And he rose in his stirrups and looked abroad +Over land and water, and praised the Lord. + +Goodly and stately and grave to see, +Into the clearing's space rode he, +With the sun on the hilt of his sword in sheath, +And his silver buckles and spurs beneath, +And the settlers welcomed him, one and all, +From swift Quampeagan to Gonic Fall. + +And he said to the elders: "Lo, I come +As the way seemed open to seek a home. +Somewhat the Lord hath wrought by my hands +In the Narragansett and Netherlands, +And if here ye have work for a Christian man, +I will tarry, and serve ye as best I can. + +"I boast not of gifts, but fain would own +The wonderful favor God hath shown, +The special mercy vouchsafed one day +On the shore of Narragansett Bay, +As I sat, with my pipe, from the camp aside, +And mused like Isaac at eventide. + +"A sudden sweetness of peace I found, +A garment of gladness wrapped me round; +I felt from the law of works released, +The strife of the flesh and spirit ceased, +My faith to a full assurance grew, +And all I had hoped for myself I knew. + +"Now, as God appointeth, I keep my way, +I shall not stumble, I shall not stray; +He hath taken away my fig-leaf dress, +I wear the robe of His righteousness; +And the shafts of Satan no more avail +Than Pequot arrows on Christian mail." + +"Tarry with us," the settlers cried, +"Thou man of God, as our ruler and guide." +And Captain Underhill bowed his head. +"The will of the Lord be done!" he said. +And the morrow beheld him sitting down +In the ruler's seat in Cocheco town. + +And he judged therein as a just man should; +His words were wise and his rule was good; +He coveted not his neighbor's land, +From the holding of bribes he shook his hand; +And through the camps of the heathen ran +A wholesome fear of the valiant man. + +But the heart is deceitful, the good Book saith, +And life hath ever a savor of death. +Through hymns of triumph the tempter calls, +And whoso thinketh he standeth falls. +Alas! ere their round the seasons ran, +There was grief in the soul of the saintly man. + +The tempter's arrows that rarely fail +Had found the joints of his spiritual mail; +And men took note of his gloomy air, +The shame in his eye, the halt in his prayer, +The signs of a battle lost within, +The pain of a soul in the coils of sin. + +Then a whisper of scandal linked his name +With broken vows and a life of blame; +And the people looked askance on him +As he walked among them sullen and grim, +Ill at ease, and bitter of word, +And prompt of quarrel with hand or sword. + +None knew how, with prayer and fasting still, +He strove in the bonds of his evil will; +But he shook himself like Samson at length, +And girded anew his loins of strength, +And bade the crier go up and down +And call together the wondering town. + +Jeer and murmur and shaking of head +Ceased as he rose in his place and said +"Men, brethren, and fathers, well ye know +How I came among you a year ago, +Strong in the faith that my soul was freed +From sin of feeling, or thought, or deed. + +"I have sinned, I own it with grief and shame, +But not with a lie on my lips I came. +In my blindness I verily thought my heart +Swept and garnished in every part. +He chargeth His angels with folly; He sees +The heavens unclean. Was I more than these? + +"I urge no plea. At your feet I lay +The trust you gave me, and go my way. +Hate me or pity me, as you will, +The Lord will have mercy on sinners still; +And I, who am chiefest, say to all, +Watch and pray, lest ye also fall." + +No voice made answer: a sob so low +That only his quickened ear could know +Smote his heart with a bitter pain, +As into the forest he rode again, +And the veil of its oaken leaves shut down +On his latest glimpse of Cocheco town. + +Crystal-clear on the man of sin +The streams flashed up, and the sky shone in; +On his cheek of fever the cool wind blew, +The leaves dropped on him their tears of dew, +And angels of God, in the pure, sweet guise +Of flowers, looked on him with sad surprise. + +Was his ear at fault that brook and breeze +Sang in their saddest of minor keys? +What was it the mournful wood-thrush said? +What whispered the pine-trees overhead? +Did he hear the Voice on his lonely way +That Adam heard in the cool of day? + +Into the desert alone rode he, +Alone with the Infinite Purity; +And, bowing his soul to its tender rebuke, +As Peter did to the Master's look, +He measured his path with prayers of pain +For peace with God and nature again. + +And in after years to Cocheco came +The bruit of a once familiar name; +How among the Dutch of New Netherlands, +From wild Danskamer to Haarlem sands, +A penitent soldier preached the Word, +And smote the heathen with Gideon's sword! + +And the heart of Boston was glad to hear +How he harried the foe on the long frontier, +And heaped on the land against him barred +The coals of his generous watch and ward. +Frailest and bravest! the Bay State still +Counts with her worthies John Underhill. +1873. + + + + +CONDUCTOR BRADLEY. + +A railway conductor who lost his life in an accident on a Connecticut +railway, May 9, 1873. + + +CONDUCTOR BRADLEY, (always may his name +Be said with reverence!) as the swift doom came, +Smitten to death, a crushed and mangled frame, + +Sank, with the brake he grasped just where he stood +To do the utmost that a brave man could, +And die, if needful, as a true man should. + +Men stooped above him; women dropped their tears +On that poor wreck beyond all hopes or fears, +Lost in the strength and glory of his years. + +What heard they? Lo! the ghastly lips of pain, +Dead to all thought save duty's, moved again +"Put out the signals for the other train!" + +No nobler utterance since the world began +From lips of saint or martyr ever ran, +Electric, through the sympathies of man. + +Ah me! how poor and noteless seem to this +The sick-bed dramas of self-consciousness, +Our sensual fears of pain and hopes of bliss! + +Oh, grand, supreme endeavor! Not in vain +That last brave act of failing tongue and brain +Freighted with life the downward rushing train, + +Following the wrecked one, as wave follows wave, +Obeyed the warning which the dead lips gave. +Others he saved, himself he could not save. + +Nay, the lost life was saved. He is not dead +Who in his record still the earth shall tread +With God's clear aureole shining round his head. + +We bow as in the dust, with all our pride +Of virtue dwarfed the noble deed beside. +God give us grace to live as Bradley died! +1873. + + + + +THE WITCH OF WENHAM. + +The house is still standing in Danvers, Mass., where, it is said, a +suspected witch was confined overnight in the attic, which was bolted +fast. In the morning when the constable came to take her to Salem for +trial she was missing, although the door was still bolted. Her escape +was doubtless aided by her friends, but at the time it was attributed +to Satanic interference. + + +I. + +ALONG Crane River's sunny slopes +Blew warm the winds of May, +And over Naumkeag's ancient oaks +The green outgrew the gray. + +The grass was green on Rial-side, +The early birds at will +Waked up the violet in its dell, +The wind-flower on its hill. + +"Where go you, in your Sunday coat, +Son Andrew, tell me, pray." +For striped perch in Wenham Lake +I go to fish to-day." + +"Unharmed of thee in Wenham Lake +The mottled perch shall be +A blue-eyed witch sits on the bank +And weaves her net for thee. + +"She weaves her golden hair; she sings +Her spell-song low and faint; +The wickedest witch in Salem jail +Is to that girl a saint." + +"Nay, mother, hold thy cruel tongue; +God knows," the young man cried, +"He never made a whiter soul +Than hers by Wenham side. + +"She tends her mother sick and blind, +And every want supplies; +To her above the blessed Book +She lends her soft blue eyes. + +"Her voice is glad with holy songs, +Her lips are sweet with prayer; +Go where you will, in ten miles round +Is none more good and fair." + +"Son Andrew, for the love of God +And of thy mother, stay!" +She clasped her hands, she wept aloud, +But Andrew rode away. + +"O reverend sir, my Andrew's soul +The Wenham witch has caught; +She holds him with the curled gold +Whereof her snare is wrought. + +"She charms him with her great blue eyes, +She binds him with her hair; +Oh, break the spell with holy words, +Unbind him with a prayer!" + +"Take heart," the painful preacher said, +"This mischief shall not be; +The witch shall perish in her sins +And Andrew shall go free. + +"Our poor Ann Putnam testifies +She saw her weave a spell, +Bare-armed, loose-haired, at full of moon, +Around a dried-up well. + +"'Spring up, O well!' she softly sang +The Hebrew's old refrain +(For Satan uses Bible words), +Till water flowed a-main. + +"And many a goodwife heard her speak +By Wenham water words +That made the buttercups take wings +And turn to yellow birds. + +"They say that swarming wild bees seek +The hive at her command; +And fishes swim to take their food +From out her dainty hand. + +"Meek as she sits in meeting-time, +The godly minister +Notes well the spell that doth compel +The young men's eyes to her. + +"The mole upon her dimpled chin +Is Satan's seal and sign; +Her lips are red with evil bread +And stain of unblest wine. + +"For Tituba, my Indian, saith +At Quasycung she took +The Black Man's godless sacrament +And signed his dreadful book. + +"Last night my sore-afflicted child +Against the young witch cried. +To take her Marshal Herrick rides +Even now to Wenham side." + +The marshal in his saddle sat, +His daughter at his knee; +"I go to fetch that arrant witch, +Thy fair playmate," quoth he. + +"Her spectre walks the parsonage, +And haunts both hall and stair; +They know her by the great blue eyes +And floating gold of hair." + +"They lie, they lie, my father dear! +No foul old witch is she, +But sweet and good and crystal-pure +As Wenham waters be." + +"I tell thee, child, the Lord hath set +Before us good and ill, +And woe to all whose carnal loves +Oppose His righteous will. + +"Between Him and the powers of hell +Choose thou, my child, to-day +No sparing hand, no pitying eye, +When God commands to slay!" + +He went his way; the old wives shook +With fear as he drew nigh; +The children in the dooryards held +Their breath as he passed by. + +Too well they knew the gaunt gray horse +The grim witch-hunter rode +The pale Apocalyptic beast +By grisly Death bestrode. + + + +II. + +Oh, fair the face of Wenham Lake +Upon the young girl's shone, +Her tender mouth, her dreaming eyes, +Her yellow hair outblown. + +By happy youth and love attuned +To natural harmonies, +The singing birds, the whispering wind, +She sat beneath the trees. + +Sat shaping for her bridal dress +Her mother's wedding gown, +When lo! the marshal, writ in hand, +From Alford hill rode down. + +His face was hard with cruel fear, +He grasped the maiden's hands +"Come with me unto Salem town, +For so the law commands!" + +"Oh, let me to my mother say +Farewell before I go!" +He closer tied her little hands +Unto his saddle bow. + +"Unhand me," cried she piteously, +"For thy sweet daughter's sake." +"I'll keep my daughter safe," he said, +"From the witch of Wenham Lake." + +"Oh, leave me for my mother's sake, +She needs my eyes to see." +"Those eyes, young witch, the crows shall peck +From off the gallows-tree." + +He bore her to a farm-house old, +And up its stairway long, +And closed on her the garret-door +With iron bolted strong. + +The day died out, the night came down +Her evening prayer she said, +While, through the dark, strange faces seemed +To mock her as she prayed. + +The present horror deepened all +The fears her childhood knew; +The awe wherewith the air was filled +With every breath she drew. + +And could it be, she trembling asked, +Some secret thought or sin +Had shut good angels from her heart +And let the bad ones in? + +Had she in some forgotten dream +Let go her hold on Heaven, +And sold herself unwittingly +To spirits unforgiven? + +Oh, weird and still the dark hours passed; +No human sound she heard, +But up and down the chimney stack +The swallows moaned and stirred. + +And o'er her, with a dread surmise +Of evil sight and sound, +The blind bats on their leathern wings +Went wheeling round and round. + +Low hanging in the midnight sky +Looked in a half-faced moon. +Was it a dream, or did she hear +Her lover's whistled tune? + +She forced the oaken scuttle back; +A whisper reached her ear +"Slide down the roof to me," it said, +"So softly none may hear." + +She slid along the sloping roof +Till from its eaves she hung, +And felt the loosened shingles yield +To which her fingers clung. + +Below, her lover stretched his hands +And touched her feet so small; +"Drop down to me, dear heart," he said, +"My arms shall break the fall." + +He set her on his pillion soft, +Her arms about him twined; +And, noiseless as if velvet-shod, +They left the house behind. + +But when they reached the open way, +Full free the rein he cast; +Oh, never through the mirk midnight +Rode man and maid more fast. + +Along the wild wood-paths they sped, +The bridgeless streams they swam; +At set of moon they passed the Bass, +At sunrise Agawam. + +At high noon on the Merrimac +The ancient ferryman +Forgot, at times, his idle oars, +So fair a freight to scan. + +And when from off his grounded boat +He saw them mount and ride, +"God keep her from the evil eye, +And harm of witch!" he cried. + +The maiden laughed, as youth will laugh +At all its fears gone by; +"He does not know," she whispered low, +"A little witch am I." + +All day he urged his weary horse, +And, in the red sundown, +Drew rein before a friendly door +In distant Berwick town. + +A fellow-feeling for the wronged +The Quaker people felt; +And safe beside their kindly hearths +The hunted maiden dwelt, + +Until from off its breast the land +The haunting horror threw, +And hatred, born of ghastly dreams, +To shame and pity grew. + +Sad were the year's spring morns, and sad +Its golden summer day, +But blithe and glad its withered fields, +And skies of ashen gray; + +For spell and charm had power no more, +The spectres ceased to roam, +And scattered households knelt again +Around the hearths of home. + +And when once more by Beaver Dam +The meadow-lark outsang, +And once again on all the hills +The early violets sprang, + +And all the windy pasture slopes +Lay green within the arms +Of creeks that bore the salted sea +To pleasant inland farms, + +The smith filed off the chains he forged, +The jail-bolts backward fell; +And youth and hoary age came forth +Like souls escaped from hell. +1877 + + + + +KING SOLOMON AND THE ANTS + +OUT from Jerusalem +The king rode with his great +War chiefs and lords of state, +And Sheba's queen with them; + +Comely, but black withal, +To whom, perchance, belongs +That wondrous Song of songs, +Sensuous and mystical, + +Whereto devout souls turn +In fond, ecstatic dream, +And through its earth-born theme +The Love of loves discern. + +Proud in the Syrian sun, +In gold and purple sheen, +The dusky Ethiop queen +Smiled on King Solomon. + +Wisest of men, he knew +The languages of all +The creatures great or small +That trod the earth or flew. + +Across an ant-hill led +The king's path, and he heard +Its small folk, and their word +He thus interpreted: + +"Here comes the king men greet +As wise and good and just, +To crush us in the dust +Under his heedless feet." + +The great king bowed his head, +And saw the wide surprise +Of the Queen of Sheba's eyes +As he told her what they said. + +"O king!" she whispered sweet, +"Too happy fate have they +Who perish in thy way +Beneath thy gracious feet! + +"Thou of the God-lent crown, +Shall these vile creatures dare +Murmur against thee where +The knees of kings kneel down?" + +"Nay," Solomon replied, +"The wise and strong should seek +The welfare of the weak," +And turned his horse aside. + +His train, with quick alarm, +Curved with their leader round +The ant-hill's peopled mound, +And left it free from harm. + +The jewelled head bent low; +"O king!" she said, "henceforth +The secret of thy worth +And wisdom well I know. + +"Happy must be the State +Whose ruler heedeth more +The murmurs of the poor +Than flatteries of the great." +1877. + + + + + +IN THE "OLD SOUTH." + +On the 8th of July, 1677, Margaret Brewster with four other Friends +went into the South Church in time of meeting, "in sack-cloth, with +ashes upon her head, barefoot, and her face blackened," and delivered +"a warning from the great God of Heaven and Earth to the Rulers and +Magistrates of Boston." For the offence she was sentenced to be "whipped +at a cart's tail up and down the Town, with twenty lashes." + +SHE came and stood in the Old South Church, +A wonder and a sign, +With a look the old-time sibyls wore, +Half-crazed and half-divine. + +Save the mournful sackcloth about her wound, +Unclothed as the primal mother, +With limbs that trembled and eyes that blazed +With a fire she dare not smother. + +Loose on her shoulders fell her hair, +With sprinkled ashes gray; +She stood in the broad aisle strange and weird +As a soul at the judgment day. + +And the minister paused in his sermon's midst, +And the people held their breath, +For these were the words the maiden spoke +Through lips as the lips of death: + +"Thus saith the Lord, with equal feet +All men my courts shall tread, +And priest and ruler no more shall eat +My people up like bread! + +"Repent! repent! ere the Lord shall speak +In thunder and breaking seals +Let all souls worship Him in the way +His light within reveals." + +She shook the dust from her naked feet, +And her sackcloth closer drew, +And into the porch of the awe-hushed church +She passed like a ghost from view. + +They whipped her away at the tail o' the cart +Through half the streets of the town, +But the words she uttered that day nor fire +Could burn nor water drown. + +And now the aisles of the ancient church +By equal feet are trod, +And the bell that swings in its belfry rings +Freedom to worship God! + +And now whenever a wrong is done +It thrills the conscious walls; +The stone from the basement cries aloud +And the beam from the timber calls. + +There are steeple-houses on every hand, +And pulpits that bless and ban, +And the Lord will not grudge the single church +That is set apart for man. + +For in two commandments are all the law +And the prophets under the sun, +And the first is last and the last is first, +And the twain are verily one. + +So, long as Boston shall Boston be, +And her bay-tides rise and fall, +Shall freedom stand in the Old South Church +And plead for the rights of all! +1877. + + + + +THE HENCHMAN. + +MY lady walks her morning round, +My lady's page her fleet greyhound, +My lady's hair the fond winds stir, +And all the birds make songs for her. + +Her thrushes sing in Rathburn bowers, +And Rathburn side is gay with flowers; +But ne'er like hers, in flower or bird, +Was beauty seen or music heard. + +The distance of the stars is hers; +The least of all her worshippers, +The dust beneath her dainty heel, +She knows not that I see or feel. + +Oh, proud and calm!--she cannot know +Where'er she goes with her I go; +Oh, cold and fair!--she cannot guess +I kneel to share her hound's caress! + +Gay knights beside her hunt and hawk, +I rob their ears of her sweet talk; +Her suitors come from east and west, +I steal her smiles from every guest. + +Unheard of her, in loving words, +I greet her with the song of birds; +I reach her with her green-armed bowers, +I kiss her with the lips of flowers. + +The hound and I are on her trail, +The wind and I uplift her veil; +As if the calm, cold moon she were, +And I the tide, I follow her. + +As unrebuked as they, I share +The license of the sun and air, +And in a common homage hide +My worship from her scorn and pride. + +World-wide apart, and yet so near, +I breathe her charmed atmosphere, +Wherein to her my service brings +The reverence due to holy things. + +Her maiden pride, her haughty name, +My dumb devotion shall not shame; +The love that no return doth crave +To knightly levels lifts the slave, + +No lance have I, in joust or fight, +To splinter in my lady's sight +But, at her feet, how blest were I +For any need of hers to die! +1877. + + + + +THE DEAD FEAST OF THE KOL-FOLK. + +E. B. Tylor in his Primitive Culture, chapter xii., gives an account of +the reverence paid the dead by the Kol tribes of Chota Nagpur, Assam. +"When a Ho or Munda," he says, "has been burned on the funeral pile, +collected morsels of his bones are carried in procession with a solemn, +ghostly, sliding step, keeping time to the deep-sounding drum, and when +the old woman who carries the bones on her bamboo tray lowers it from +time to time, then girls who carry pitchers and brass vessels mournfully +reverse them to show that they are empty; thus the remains are taken to +visit every house in the village, and every dwelling of a friend or +relative for miles, and the inmates come out to mourn and praise the +goodness of the departed; the bones are carried to all the dead man's +favorite haunts, to the fields he cultivated, to the grove he planted, +to the threshing-floor where he worked, to the village dance-room where +he made merry. At last they are taken to the grave, and buried in an +earthen vase upon a store of food, covered with one of those huge stone +slabs which European visitors wonder at in the districts of the +aborigines of India." In the Journal of the Asiatic Society, Bengal, +vol. ix., p. 795, is a Ho dirge. + + +WE have opened the door, +Once, twice, thrice! +We have swept the floor, +We have boiled the rice. +Come hither, come hither! +Come from the far lands, +Come from the star lands, +Come as before! +We lived long together, +We loved one another; +Come back to our life. +Come father, come mother, +Come sister and brother, +Child, husband, and wife, +For you we are sighing. +Come take your old places, +Come look in our faces, +The dead on the dying, +Come home! + +We have opened the door, +Once, twice, thrice! +We have kindled the coals, +And we boil the rice +For the feast of souls. +Come hither, come hither! +Think not we fear you, +Whose hearts are so near you. +Come tenderly thought on, +Come all unforgotten, +Come from the shadow-lands, +From the dim meadow-lands +Where the pale grasses bend +Low to our sighing. +Come father, come mother, +Come sister and brother, +Come husband and friend, +The dead to the dying, +Come home! + +We have opened the door +You entered so oft; +For the feast of souls +We have kindled the coals, +And we boil the rice soft. +Come you who are dearest +To us who are nearest, +Come hither, come hither, +From out the wild weather; +The storm clouds are flying, +The peepul is sighing; +Come in from the rain. +Come father, come mother, +Come sister and brother, +Come husband and lover, +Beneath our roof-cover. +Look on us again, +The dead on the dying, +Come home! + +We have opened the door! +For the feast of souls +We have kindled the coals +We may kindle no more! +Snake, fever, and famine, +The curse of the Brahmin, +The sun and the dew, +They burn us, they bite us, +They waste us and smite us; +Our days are but few +In strange lands far yonder +To wonder and wander +We hasten to you. +List then to our sighing, +While yet we are here +Nor seeing nor hearing, +We wait without fearing, +To feel you draw near. +O dead, to the dying +Come home! +1879. + + + + +THE KHAN'S DEVIL. +THE Khan came from Bokhara town +To Hamza, santon of renown. + +"My head is sick, my hands are weak; +Thy help, O holy man, I seek." + +In silence marking for a space +The Khan's red eyes and purple face, + +Thick voice, and loose, uncertain tread, +"Thou hast a devil!" Hamza said. + +"Allah forbid!" exclaimed the Khan. +Rid me of him at once, O man!" + +"Nay," Hamza said, "no spell of mine +Can slay that cursed thing of thine. + +"Leave feast and wine, go forth and drink +Water of healing on the brink + +"Where clear and cold from mountain snows, +The Nahr el Zeben downward flows. + +"Six moons remain, then come to me; +May Allah's pity go with thee!" + +Awestruck, from feast and wine the Khan +Went forth where Nahr el Zeben ran. + +Roots were his food, the desert dust +His bed, the water quenched his thirst; + +And when the sixth moon's scimetar +Curved sharp above the evening star, + +He sought again the santon's door, +Not weak and trembling as before, + +But strong of limb and clear of brain; +"Behold," he said, "the fiend is slain." + +"Nay," Hamza answered, "starved and drowned, +The curst one lies in death-like swound. + +"But evil breaks the strongest gyves, +And jins like him have charmed lives. + +"One beaker of the juice of grape +May call him up in living shape. + +"When the red wine of Badakshan +Sparkles for thee, beware, O Khan, + +"With water quench the fire within, +And drown each day thy devilkin!" + +Thenceforth the great Khan shunned the cup +As Shitan's own, though offered up, + +With laughing eyes and jewelled hands, +By Yarkand's maids and Samarcand's. + +And, in the lofty vestibule +Of the medress of Kaush Kodul, + +The students of the holy law +A golden-lettered tablet saw, + +With these words, by a cunning hand, +Graved on it at the Khan's command: + +"In Allah's name, to him who hath +A devil, Khan el Hamed saith, + +"Wisely our Prophet cursed the vine +The fiend that loves the breath of wine, + +"No prayer can slay, no marabout +Nor Meccan dervis can drive out. + +"I, Khan el Hamed, know the charm +That robs him of his power to harm. + +"Drown him, O Islam's child! the spell +To save thee lies in tank and well!" +1879. + + + + +THE KING'S MISSIVE. +1661. + +This ballad, originally written for The Memorial History of Boston, +describes, with pardonable poetic license, a memorable incident in the +annals of the city. The interview between Shattuck and the Governor took +place, I have since learned, in the residence of the latter, and not +in the Council Chamber. The publication of the ballad led to some +discussion as to the historical truthfulness of the picture, but I have +seen no reason to rub out any of the figures or alter the lines and +colors. + + +UNDER the great hill sloping bare +To cove and meadow and Common lot, +In his council chamber and oaken chair, +Sat the worshipful Governor Endicott. +A grave, strong man, who knew no peer +In the pilgrim land, where he ruled in fear +Of God, not man, and for good or ill +Held his trust with an iron will. + +He had shorn with his sword the cross from out +The flag, and cloven the May-pole down, +Harried the heathen round about, +And whipped the Quakers from town to town. +Earnest and honest, a man at need +To burn like a torch for his own harsh creed, +He kept with the flaming brand of his zeal +The gate of the holy common weal. + +His brow was clouded, his eye was stern, +With a look of mingled sorrow and wrath; +"Woe's me!" he murmured: "at every turn +The pestilent Quakers are in my path! +Some we have scourged, and banished some, +Some hanged, more doomed, and still they come, +Fast as the tide of yon bay sets in, +Sowing their heresy's seed of sin. + +"Did we count on this? Did we leave behind +The graves of our kin, the comfort and ease +Of our English hearths and homes, to find +Troublers of Israel such as these? +Shall I spare? Shall I pity them? God forbid! +I will do as the prophet to Agag did +They come to poison the wells of the Word, +I will hew them in pieces before the Lord!" + +The door swung open, and Rawson the clerk +Entered, and whispered under breath, +"There waits below for the hangman's work +A fellow banished on pain of death-- +Shattuck, of Salem, unhealed of the whip, +Brought over in Master Goldsmith's ship +At anchor here in a Christian port, +With freight of the devil and all his sort!" + +Twice and thrice on the chamber floor +Striding fiercely from wall to wall, +"The Lord do so to me and more," +The Governor cried, "if I hang not all! +Bring hither the Quaker." Calm, sedate, +With the look of a man at ease with fate, +Into that presence grim and dread +Came Samuel Shattuck, with hat on head. + +"Off with the knave's hat!" An angry hand +Smote down the offence; but the wearer said, +With a quiet smile, "By the king's command +I bear his message and stand in his stead." +In the Governor's hand a missive he laid +With the royal arms on its seal displayed, +And the proud man spake as he gazed thereat, +Uncovering, "Give Mr. Shattuck his hat." + +He turned to the Quaker, bowing low,-- +"The king commandeth your friends' release; +Doubt not he shall be obeyed, although +To his subjects' sorrow and sin's increase. +What he here enjoineth, John Endicott, +His loyal servant, questioneth not. +You are free! God grant the spirit you own +May take you from us to parts unknown." + +So the door of the jail was open cast, +And, like Daniel, out of the lion's den +Tender youth and girlhood passed, +With age-bowed women and gray-locked men. +And the voice of one appointed to die +Was lifted in praise and thanks on high, +And the little maid from New Netherlands +Kissed, in her joy, the doomed man's hands. + +And one, whose call was to minister +To the souls in prison, beside him went, +An ancient woman, bearing with her +The linen shroud for his burial meant. +For she, not counting her own life dear, +In the strength of a love that cast out fear, +Had watched and served where her brethren died, +Like those who waited the cross beside. + +One moment they paused on their way to look +On the martyr graves by the Common side, +And much scourged Wharton of Salem took +His burden of prophecy up and cried +"Rest, souls of the valiant! Not in vain +Have ye borne the Master's cross of pain; +Ye have fought the fight, ye are victors crowned, +With a fourfold chain ye have Satan bound!" + +The autumn haze lay soft and still +On wood and meadow and upland farms; +On the brow of Snow Hill the great windmill +Slowly and lazily swung its arms; +Broad in the sunshine stretched away, +With its capes and islands, the turquoise bay; +And over water and dusk of pines +Blue hills lifted their faint outlines. + +The topaz leaves of the walnut glowed, +The sumach added its crimson fleck, +And double in air and water showed +The tinted maples along the Neck; +Through frost flower clusters of pale star-mist, +And gentian fringes of amethyst, +And royal plumes of golden-rod, +The grazing cattle on Centry trod. + +But as they who see not, the Quakers saw +The world about them; they only thought +With deep thanksgiving and pious awe +On the great deliverance God had wrought. +Through lane and alley the gazing town +Noisily followed them up and down; +Some with scoffing and brutal jeer, +Some with pity and words of cheer. + +One brave voice rose above the din. +Upsall, gray with his length of days, +Cried from the door of his Red Lion Inn +"Men of Boston, give God the praise +No more shall innocent blood call down +The bolts of wrath on your guilty town. +The freedom of worship, dear to you, +Is dear to all, and to all is due. + +"I see the vision of days to come, +When your beautiful City of the Bay +Shall be Christian liberty's chosen home, +And none shall his neighbor's rights gainsay. +The varying notes of worship shall blend +And as one great prayer to God ascend, +And hands of mutual charity raise +Walls of salvation and gates of praise." + +So passed the Quakers through Boston town, +Whose painful ministers sighed to see +The walls of their sheep-fold falling down, +And wolves of heresy prowling free. +But the years went on, and brought no wrong; +With milder counsels the State grew strong, +As outward Letter and inward Light +Kept the balance of truth aright. + +The Puritan spirit perishing not, +To Concord's yeomen the signal sent, +And spake in the voice of the cannon-shot +That severed the chains of a continent. +With its gentler mission of peace and good-will +The thought of the Quaker is living still, +And the freedom of soul he prophesied +Is gospel and law where the martyrs died. +1880. + + + + +VALUATION. + +THE old Squire said, as he stood by his gate, +And his neighbor, the Deacon, went by, +"In spite of my bank stock and real estate, +You are better off, Deacon, than I. + +"We're both growing old, and the end's drawing near, +You have less of this world to resign, +But in Heaven's appraisal your assets, I fear, +Will reckon up greater than mine. + +"They say I am rich, but I'm feeling so poor, +I wish I could swap with you even +The pounds I have lived for and laid up in store +For the shillings and pence you have given." + +"Well, Squire," said the Deacon, with shrewd +common sense, +While his eye had a twinkle of fun, +"Let your pounds take the way of my shillings +and pence, +And the thing can be easily done!" +1880. + + + + +RABBI ISHMAEL. + +"Rabbi Ishmael Ben Elisha said, Once, I entered into the Holy of Holies +[as High Priest] to burn incense, when I saw Aktriel [the Divine Crown] +Jah, Lord of Hosts, sitting upon a throne, high and lifted up, who said +unto me, 'Ishmael, my son, bless me.' I answered, 'May it please Thee to +make Thy compassion prevail over Thine anger; may it be revealed above +Thy other attributes; mayest Thou deal with Thy children according to +it, and not according to the strict measure of judgment.' It seemed to +me that He bowed His head, as though to answer Amen to my blessing."-- +Talmud (Beraehoth, I. f. 6. b.) + + +THE Rabbi Ishmael, with the woe and sin +Of the world heavy upon him, entering in +The Holy of Holies, saw an awful Face +With terrible splendor filling all the place. +"O Ishmael Ben Elisha!" said a voice, +"What seekest thou? What blessing is thy choice?" +And, knowing that he stood before the Lord, +Within the shadow of the cherubim, +Wide-winged between the blinding light and him, +He bowed himself, and uttered not a word, +But in the silence of his soul was prayer +"O Thou Eternal! I am one of all, +And nothing ask that others may not share. +Thou art almighty; we are weak and small, +And yet Thy children: let Thy mercy spare!" +Trembling, he raised his eyes, and in the place +Of the insufferable glory, lo! a face +Of more than mortal tenderness, that bent +Graciously down in token of assent, +And, smiling, vanished! With strange joy elate, +The wondering Rabbi sought the temple's gate. +Radiant as Moses from the Mount, he stood +And cried aloud unto the multitude +"O Israel, hear! The Lord our God is good! +Mine eyes have seen his glory and his grace; +Beyond his judgments shall his love endure; +The mercy of the All Merciful is sure!" +1881. + + + + +THE ROCK-TOMB OF BRADORE. + +H. Y. Hind, in Explorations in the Interior of the Labrador Peninsula +(ii. 166) mentions the finding of a rock tomb near the little fishing +port of Bradore, with the inscription upon it which is given in the +poem. + +A DREAR and desolate shore! +Where no tree unfolds its leaves, +And never the spring wind weaves +Green grass for the hunter's tread; +A land forsaken and dead, +Where the ghostly icebergs go +And come with the ebb and flow +Of the waters of Bradore! + +A wanderer, from a land +By summer breezes fanned, +Looked round him, awed, subdued, +By the dreadful solitude, +Hearing alone the cry +Of sea-birds clanging by, +The crash and grind of the floe, +Wail of wind and wash of tide. +"O wretched land!" he cried, +"Land of all lands the worst, +God forsaken and curst! +Thy gates of rock should show +The words the Tuscan seer +Read in the Realm of Woe +Hope entereth not here!" + +Lo! at his feet there stood +A block of smooth larch wood, +Waif of some wandering wave, +Beside a rock-closed cave +By Nature fashioned for a grave; +Safe from the ravening bear +And fierce fowl of the air, +Wherein to rest was laid +A twenty summers' maid, +Whose blood had equal share +Of the lands of vine and snow, +Half French, half Eskimo. +In letters uneffaced, +Upon the block were traced +The grief and hope of man, +And thus the legend ran +"We loved her! +Words cannot tell how well! +We loved her! +God loved her! +And called her home to peace and rest. +We love her." + +The stranger paused and read. +"O winter land!" he said, +"Thy right to be I own; +God leaves thee not alone. +And if thy fierce winds blow +Over drear wastes of rock and snow, +And at thy iron gates +The ghostly iceberg waits, +Thy homes and hearts are dear. +Thy sorrow o'er thy sacred dust +Is sanctified by hope and trust; +God's love and man's are here. +And love where'er it goes +Makes its own atmosphere; +Its flowers of Paradise +Take root in the eternal ice, +And bloom through Polar snows!" +1881. + + + + + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK, PENNSYLVANIA PILGRIM, ETC *** +By John Greenleaf Whittier + +******* This file should be named 9565.txt or 9565.zip ******** + +This eBook was produced by David Widger + +Project Gutenberg eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the US +unless a copyright notice is included. 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