o w o CO o 00 I CO OF m PLYMOUTH ROCK AND CANOPY. POEMS OF THE PILGRIMS SELECTED BY ZILPHA H. SPOONER That little Mayflower, convoyed by the winds And the rude waters to our rocky shore, Shall scatter Free'lom's seed throughout the world And all the nations of the earth shall come Singing to share the harvest-home of Truth." LOWELL BOSTON A. WILLIAMS AND COMPANY 283 WASHINGTON STREET 1882 Copyright, 1881, By Z. II. SPOON EH. All rights reserved. The Riverside Press, Cambridge : Electrotyped and Printed by II. 0- Houston and Company. To JOSEPH HENRY STICKNEY, ESQ. OF BALTIMORE, MD. WHOSE HEARTFELT INTEREST IN ALL THAT RELATES TO THE PILGRIMS, AND WHOSE MUNIFICENT GIFTS TO REBUILD, BEAUTIFY, AND PRESERVE PILGRIM HALL, ENTITLE HIM TO THE HIGH REGARD OF ALL WHO REVERENCE THE FOUNDERS OF OUR COUNTRY, 2Tf)i0 Folumc IS RESPECTFULLY DEDICATED BY THE COMPILER. 466 CONTENTS. PAGE ROBINSON OF LEYDEN O. W. Holmes 7 TIIK KMIJARKATIMX Lizzie Doten 10 SONG OF mi: PILGRIMS .T. C. Upham 15 THE PILGRIMS Mrs. Sigourney 17 HYMN William Cullen Bryant 21 THE LIBERTY SONG John Dickinson 22 NEW ENGLAND ,1. G. Percival 25 SONG Alexander Scammel 28 HYMN. A ROCK IN TIIK AVILDERNESS Anonymous 30 ODE FOR DECEMBER 22, 1792 John Davis 31 MEMORY OK of it FATHEKS Flint 34 HYMN. DECEM UEU 22, 1799 Samuel Davis 35 THE PILGHIM FATHERS Charles Sprague 37 HYMN. DECEMBER 22, 1803 John Quincy Adams 42 ODE Rufus Dawes 44 CLARK'S ISLAND Hersey B. Goodwin 47 HYMN Leonard Bacon 49 ODE Samuel Davis 50 HYMN. DECEMBER 22, 1806 Rev. Dr. Holmes 52 FOREFATHERS' DAY, DECEMBER 22 M. W. Chapman 54 SONG. DECEMBER 22, 1807 Joseph Warren Brackett 56 THE PILGRIM'S VISION 0. W. Holmes 61 HYMN George Russell 67 ii CONTENTS. PAGE THE LANDING OF THE PILGRIM FATHERS IN NEW ENG- LAND Mrs. Hemans 69 THE PILGRIM FATHERS Ebenezer Elliott 72 Two HUNDRED YEARS AGO James Flint 74 HYMN. SUNG AT TH:S CELEBRATION, DECEMBER 22, 1824 William P. Lunt 78 ODE Grenville Mellen 81 HYMN. DECEMBER 22, 1831 Anonymous 85 NATIONAL HYMN David Lee Child 87 REMEMBRANCE OF THE PILGRIMS Anonymous 89 HYMN S. Deane 91 THE SAINTED SIRES Anonymous 93 ODE John Pierpont 95 HYMN FOR DECEMBER 22, 1870 Nathaniel Spooner 97 STANZAS FROM " THE PRESENT CRISIS " J. R. Lowell 98 LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. COLE'S HILL. This hill, which was the first burial-place of the Pilgrims, commands a line view of the harbor and bay, while ?.Ianomet Hills are seen in the distance. During the first sad winter nearly half the little band of pilgrims died, and wen- buried here. Their graves were leveled, and in the spring corn was planted, to conceal from the Indians the great loss which had been su>tained. PLYMOUTH ROCK AND CANOPY. This granite rock, which first received the feet of the Pil- grims after their perilous ocean voyage, having become an object of veneration throughout the civilized world, a short account of it may not be out of place. The rock remained undisturbed upon the shore, until 1741, when a proposition was made to build a wharf on or near it. Elder Thomas Faunce, then living several miles from the vil- lage, hearing of the plan, and fearing injury to this cherished memorial of the fathers, came to the village to urge upon the younger generation the importance of preserving this precious stepping-stone to a new world. He was at that time at the ad- vanced age of ninetv-fonr, and was the la>t Killing Elder of the Plvmonth Church. The wishes of the aged elder were heeded, and the rock was not disturbed till 1774. During that year, while attempts were being made to raise it from its bed a por- tion of the rock was separated from the main part, and r-ome patriotic young men caused the upper part to be removed to Town Square. It was drawn there by twenty yoke of oxen and placed near a Libert v Pole, from which waved a rlag bearing the motto "Liberty or Death.'' In 1834 it was found needful to remove it again, to prevent it from being carried away in pieces by strangers who came to see IV LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. it and desired to have a specimen. It was then placed in front of Pilgrim Hall and inclosed in an iron railing, where it re- mained till 1880, when, at the suggestion of .Air. Stickney, it was restored to its proper position and united with the part re- maining under the Monumental Canopy at the Landing Place. LEYDEN STREET. This street was originally called First Street, because it was the spot on which the Pilgrims built their first dwelling, which was called the " Common House." TOWN SQUARE. Here the Pilgrims erected their first house for public worship, and very nearly the same site is still occupied by a church. One of the large elm trees in the square is called the town tree, and in former times it was the principal place for posting notices, and is still iu-cd as an advertising medium. The finder of any small article in the street was expected to fasten it upon the trunk of this tree, and the loser confidently looked there for it. This custom is continued to some extent at the present time, and one occasionally sees an odd glove hanging from the tree. PILGRIM HALL. This memorial hall to the Pilgrims was built by the Pilgrim Society in 1824. It was rebuilt and made fire-proof in 1880 by the generosity of Joseph Henry Stickney, of Baltimore, Md. The hall contains many valuable relics and mementos of the Pilgrims. THE NATIONAL MONUMENT. This beautiful statue, representing Faith, stands on a pedestal 45 feet high. The height of the statue is 36 feet. INDEX OF FIRST LINES. PAGE ALL hail the day that ushers in 28 A rock in the wilderness welcomed our sires 30 A voice of grief and anger 72 Come, join hand and hand, brave Amerieans all 22 Come listen to my story 74 God hath from age to age 87 Great God of all ! in humble, grateful prayer 97 Hail, hallowed spot ! where Freedom's rays 47 Hail, Pilgrim Fathers of our race 35 Hail, sons of the Pilgrims, assembled to pay 56 Hail to the land whereon we tread, 25 He sleeps not here ; in hope and prayer 7 Holy spot ! where glowing choirs 78 How slow yon tin}' vessel ploughs the main ! 17 In pleasant lands have fallen the lines 34 In the hour of twilight shadows 61 Let children learn the mighty deeds 50 Lo, the rising star of Freedom 91 Not all the loftiest memories 81 O God, beneath thy guiding hand 49 Our fathers' God ! to Thee we raise 52 Sons of New England sires 44 Sons of renowned sires 31 Sons of the noble sires 67 vi INDEX OF FIRST LINES. PAGE The band of Pilgrim exiles in tearful silence stood 10 The breaking waves dashed high 69 The breeze has swelled the whitening sail 15 The brittle bark is on the gale 85 The memory of the faithful dead 54 The Pilgrim Fathers, where are they ? 95 They come, that coming who shall tell V 37 'T is as easy to be heroes as to sit the idle slaves 98 When o'er the billows heaving deep 42 While Pilgrims' sons, a festive throng 93 Wild was the day, the wintry sea 21 With joy I heard them say 89 POEMS OF THE PILGEIMS. H ROBINSON OF LEYDEN. E sleeps not here ; in hope and prayer His wandering flock had gone before, But he, the shepherd, might not share Their sorrows on the wintry shore. Before the Speedwell's anchor swung, Ere yet the Mayflower's sail was spread, While round his feet the Pilgrims clung, The pastor spake, and thus he said : " Men, brethren, sisters, children dear ! God calls you hence from over sea ; Ye may not build by Haerlem Meer, Nor yet along the Zuyder-Zee. " Ye go to bear the saving word To tribes unnamed and shores untrod POEMS OF THE PILGRIMS. Heed well the lessons ye have heard From those old teachers taught of God. " Yet think not unto them was lent All light for all the coming days, And Heaven's eternal wisdom spent In making straight the ancient ways. " The living fountain overflows For every flock, for every lamb, Nor heeds, though angry creeds oppose With Luther's dike or Calvin's dam/' He spake ; with lingering, long embrace, With tears of love and partings fond, They floated down the creeping Maas, Along the isle of Ysselmond. They passed the frowning towers of Briel, The " Hook of Holland's " shelf of sand, And grated soon with lifting keel Tire sullen shores of Fatherland. No home for these ! too well they knew The mitred king behind the throne; The sails were set, the pennons flew, And westward ho ! for worlds unknown. ROBINSON OF LEY DEN. 9 And these were they who gave us birth, The Pilgrims of the sunset wave, Who won for us this virgin earth, And freedom with the soil they gave. The pastor slumbers by the Rhine, In alien earth the exiles lie, Their nameless graves our holiest shrine, His words our noblest battle-cry ! Still cry them, and the world shall hear, Ye dwellers by the storm-swept sea ! Ye have not built by Haerlem Meer, Nor on the land-locked Zuyder-Zee ! 0. W. HOLMES. THE EMBARKATION. " So they left that goodly and pleasant city, which had been their resting-place near twelve years. But they knew they were pilgrims and looked not much to those things ; but lifted their eyes to heaven, their dearest country, and quieted their spirits." E. WINSLOW. THE band of Pilgrim exiles in tearful silence stood, While thus outspake, in parting, John Robinson the good : " Fare thee well, my brave Miles Standish ! thou hast a trusty sword ; But not with carnal weapons shalt thou glorify the Lord. Fare thee well, good Elder Brewster ! thou art a man of prayer ; Commend the flock I give thee to the Holy Shep- herd's care. And thou, beloved Carver, what shall I say to thee? I have need, in this my sorrow, that thou shouldst comfort me. THE EMBARKATION. 11 In the furnace of affliction must all be sharply tried ; But naught prevails against us, if the Lord be on our side. Farewell, farewell, my people ! go, and stay not the hand, But precious seed of Freedom sow ye broadcast through the land. Ye may scatter it in sorrow, and water it with tears, But rejoice for those who gather the fruit in after years ; Ay ! rejoice that ye may leave them an altar unto God, On the holy soil of Freedom, where no tyrant's foot hath trod. All honor to our sovereign, his majesty King James, But the King of kings above us the highest hom- age claims." Upon the deck together they knelt them down and prayed, The husband and the father, the matron and the maid ; The broad blue heavens above them, bright with the summer's glow, 12 POEMS OF THE PILGRIMS. And the wide, wide waste of waters, with its treach- erous waves below ; Around, the loved and cherished, whom they should see no more, And the dark, uncertain future stretching dimly on before. Oh, well might Edward Winslow look sadly on his bride ! Oh, well might fair Rose Standish press to her chieftain's side ! For with crucified affections they bowed the knee in prayer, And besought that God would aid them to suffer and to bear ; To bear the cross of sorrow a broader shield of love Than the Royal Cross of England, that proudly waved above. The balmy winds of summer swept o'er the glitter- ing seas ; It brought the sign of parting, the white sails met the breeze ; One farewell gush of sorrow, one prayerful bless- ing more, And the bark that bore the exiles glided slowly from the shore. Till: 1. MB ARK AT ION. 13 " Thus they left that goodly city," o'er stormy seas to roam : " But they knew that they were pilgrims," and this world was not their home. There is a God in heaven, whose purpose none may tell ; There is a God in heaven, who doeth all things well : And thus an infant nation was cradled on the deep, While hosts of holy angels were set to guard its sleep ; No seer, no priest, or prophet, read its horoscope at birth, . No bard in solemn saga sung its destiny to earth ; But slowly, slowly, slowly as the acorn from the sod, It grew in strength and grandeur, and spread its arms abroad. The eyes of distant nations turned towards that goodly tree, And they saw how fair and pleasant were the fruits of Liberty ! Like earth's convulsive motion before the earth- quake's shock, 14 POEMS OF THE PILGRIMS. Like the foaming of the ocean around old Plym- outh Rock, So the deathless love of Freedom, the majesty of Right, In all kindred and all nations, is rising in its might ; And words of solemn warning come from the hon- ored dead, " Woe, woe to the oppressor if righteous blood be shed! ^ Rush not blindly on the future ! Heed the lessons of the past ! For the feeble and the faithful are the conquerors at last." LIZZIE DOTEN. SONG OF THE PILGRIMS. THE breeze has swelled the whitening sail. The blue waves curl beneath the gale, And, bounding with the wave and wind, We leave Old England's shores behind. Leave behind our native shore, Homes, and all we loved before. The deep may dash, the winds may blow, The storm spread out its wings of woe Till sailors' eyes can see a shroud Hung in the folds of every cloud ; Still, as long as life shall last, From that shore we '11 speed us fast. For we would rather never be Than dwell where mind cannot be free, But bows beneath a despot's rod Even where it seeks to worship God. Blasts of heaven, onward sweep ! Bear us o'er the troubled deep ! 16 POEMS OF THE PILGRIMS. Oh, see what wonders meet our eyes ! Another land and other skies ! Columbian hills have met our view ! Adieu ! Old England's shores, adieu ! Here, at length, our feet shall rest, Hearts be "free, and homes be blessed. As long as yonder firs shall spread Their green arms o'er the mountain's head, - As long as yonder cliffs shall stand, Where join the ocean and the land, Shall those cliffs and mountains be Proud retreats for liberty. Now to the King of kings we '11 raise The pean loud of sacred praise ; More loud than sounds the swelling breeze, More loud than speak the rolling seas ! Happier lands have met our view ! England's shores, adieu! adieu ! T. C. UniAM. THE PILGRIMS. How slow yon tiny vessel ploughs the main ! Amid the heavy billows now she seems A toiling atom, then from wave to wave Leaps madly, by the tempest lashed, or reels, Half wrecked, through gulfs profound. Moons wax and wane, But still that lonely traveler treads the deep. I see an ice-bound coast, toward which she steers With such a tardy movement that it seems Stern Winter's hand hath turned her keel to stone, And sealed his victory on her slippery shrouds. They land ! They land ! not like the Genoese, With glittering sword, and gaudy train, and eye Kindling with golden fancies. Forth they come From their long prison, hardy forms, that brave The world's unkindness, men of hoary hair, And virgins of firm heart, and matrons grave, Who hush the wailing infant with a glance. Bleak Nature's desolation wraps them round, Eternal forests, and unyielding earth, 2 18 POEMS OF THE PILGRIMS. And savage men, who through the thickets peer With vengeful arrow. What could lure their steps To this drear desert ? Ask of him who left His father's home to roam through Haran's wilds, Distrusting not the Guide who called him forth, Nor doubting, though a stranger, that his seed Should be as Ocean's sands.. But yon lone bark Hath spread her parting sail. They crowd the strand, Those few, lone pilgrims. Can ye scan the woe That wrings their bosoms, as the last frail link Binding to man and habitable earth Is severed ? Can ye tell what pangs were there, What keen regrets, what sickness of the heart, What yearnings o'er their forfeit land of birth, Their distant dear ones ? Long with straining eye They watch the lessening speck. Heard ye no shriek Of anguish, when that bitter loneliness Sank down into their bosoms ? No ! they turn Back to their dreary, famished huts, and pray ! Pray, and the ills that haunt this transient life Fade into air. Up in each girded breast THK PILGRIMS. 19 Tliero sprung a rooted and mysterious strength, A loftiness, to face ;i world in arms, To strip the pomp from sceptres, and to lay Upon the sacred altar the warm blood Of slain affections, when they rise between The soul and God. And can ye deem it strange That from their planting such a branch should bloom As nations envy ? Would a germ, embalmed AY i tli prayer's pure tear-drops, strike no deeper root Than that which mad ambition's hand doth strew Upon the winds, to reap the winds again ? Hid by its veil of waters from the hand Of greedy Europe, their bold vine spread forth In giant strength. Its early clusters, crushed In England's wine-press, gave the tyrant host A draught of deadly wine. O ye who boast In your free veins the blood of sires like these, Lose not their lineaments. Should Mammon cling Too close around your heart, or wealth beget That bloated luxury which eats the core From manly virtue, or the tempting world 20 POEMS OF THE PILGRIMS. Make faint the Christian purpose in your soul, Turn ye to Plymouth's beach, and on that rock Kneel in their foot-prints, and renew the vow They breathed to God. MRS. SIGOURNEY. COLE'S HILL, PLYMOUTH. HYMN. WILD was the day ; the wintry sea Moaned sadly on New England's strand, When first, the thoughtful and the free, Our fathers, trod the desert land. They little thought how pure a light, With years, should gather round that day ; How love should keep their memories bright, How wide a realm their sons should sway. Green are their bays ; and greener still Shall round their spreading fame be wreathed, And regions now untrod shall thrill With reverence, when their names are breathed, Till where the sun, with softer fires, Looks on the vast Pacific's sleep, The children of the Pilgrim sires This hallowed day like us shall keep. WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT, THE LIBERTY SONG. SUNG AT THE FIRST CELEBRATION OF THE LANDING OF THE FOREFATHERS AT PLYMOUTH, DECEMBER 22, 1769. COME, join hand and hand, brave Americans all, And rouse your bold hearts at fair Liberty's call ; No tyrannous acts shall suppress your just claim, Or stain with dishonor America's name. CHORUS. In Freedom we 're born, and in Freedom we '11 live ; Our purses are ready, Steady, friends, steady, Not as Slaves, but as Freemen, our money we '11 give. Our worthy Forefathers let 's give 'em a cheer To climates unknown did courageously steer ; Through oceans to deserts for freedom they came, And dying, bequeathed us their freedom and fame. Their generous bosoms all danger despised, So highly, so wisely, their birthright they prized ; THE LIBERTY SONG. 23 We'll keep what they gave, we will piously keep, Nor frustrate their toils on the laud or the deep. The Tree their own hands had to Liberty reared They lived to behold growing strong and revered ; With transport they cried, " Now our wishes we gain, For our children shall gather the fruits of our pain." How sweet are the labors that Freemen endure, That they shall enjoy all the profits secure. No more such sweet labors Americans know If Britons shall reap what Americans sow. Swarms of placemen and pensioners soon will ap- pear, Like locusts deforming the charms of the year ; Suns vainly will rise, showers vainly descend, If we are to drudge for what others shall spend. Then join hand in hand, brave Americans all ; By uniting we stand, by dividing, we fall ; In so righteous a cause let us hope to succeed, For Heaven approves of each generous deed. 24 POEMS OF THE PILGRIMS. All ages shall speak with amaze and applause Of the courage we '11 show in support of our laws ; To die we can bear, but to serve we disdain ; For shame is to Freemen more dreadful than pain. This bumper I crown for our Sovereign's health, And this for Britannia's glory and wealth ; That wealth and that glory immortal may be If she is but just and we are but free. JOHN DICKINSON. NEW ENGLAND. HAIL to the land whereon we tread, Our fondest boast ; The sepulchre of mighty dead, The truest hearts that ever bled, Who sleep on Glory's brightest bed, A fearless host ; No slave is here our unchained feet Walk freely, as the waves that beat Onr coast. Our fathers crossed the ocean's wave To seek this shore ; They left behind the coward slave To welter in his living grave ; With hearts unbent, and spirits brave, They sternly bore Such toils as meaner souls had quelled ; But souls like these such toils impelled To soar. 26 POEMS OF THE PILGRIMS. Hail to the morn, when first they stood On Bunker's height, And, fearless, stemmed the invading flood, And wrote our dearest rights in blood, And mowed in ranks the hireling brood, In desperate fight ! Oh, 'twas a proud, exulting day, For even our fallen fortunes lay In light. There is no other land like thee, No dearer shore ; Thou art the shelter of the free ; The home, the port of Liberty, Thou hast been, and shalt ever be, Till time is o'er. Ere I forget to think upon My land, shall mother curse the son She bore. Thou art the firm, unshaken rock On which we rest ; And, rising from thy hardy stock, Thy sons the tyrant's frown shall mock, And Slavery's galling chains unlock, And free the oppressed : NEW ENGLAND. 27 All who the wreath of Freedom twine Beneath the shadow of their vine Are blest. We love thy rude and rocky shore, And here we stand : Let foreign navies hasten o'er, And on our heads their fury pour, And peal their cannons' loudest roar, And storm our land ; They still shall find our lives are given To die for home, and leant on Heaven Our hand. J. G. PERCIVAL. SONG. DECEMBER 22, 1770. ALL hail the day that ushers in The period of revolving time, In which our sires of glorious fame Bravely through toils and dangers came Novanglia's wilds to civilize, And wild disorder harmonize ; To plant Britannia's arts and arms, Plenty, peace, freedom, pleasing charms, Derived from British rights and laws, That justly merit our applause. Darlings of Heaven, heroes brave, You still shall live though in the grave. Live, live, within each grateful breast, With reverence for your names possessed ; Your praises on our tongues shall dwell, And sires to sons your actions tell. SONG. 29 To distant poles their praise resound, Let virtue be with glory crowned ; Ye dreary wilds, each rock and cave, Echo the virtues of the brave. They nobly braved their indigence, Death, famine, sword, and pestilence ; Each toil, each danger they endured, Till for their sons they had procured A fertile soil, profusely blest "With Nature's stores, and now possessed By sons who gratefully revere Our Fathers' names and memories dear. Plymouth the great Mausoleum, Famous for our Forefathers' Tomb, Join, join the chorus, one and all, Resound their deeds in Colony Hall. ALEXANDER SCAMMEL. HYMN. A ROCK IN THE WILDERNESS. A ROCK in the wilderness welcomed our sires From bondage far over the dark rolling sea ; On that holy altar they kindled the fires, Jehovah, which glow in our bosoms for thee. Thy blessings descended in sunshine and shower, Or rose from the soil that was sown by thy hand ; The mountain and valley rejoiced in thy power, And heaven encircled and smiled on the land. The Pilgrims of old an example have given Of mild resignation, devotion, and love, Which beams like the star in the blue vault of heaven, A beacon-light hung in the mansions above. In church and cathedral we kneel in our prayer, Their temple and chapel were valley and hill ; But God is the same in the aisle or the air, And He is the Hock that we lean upon still. ANONYMOUS. ODE. WRITTEN FOR THE CELEBRATION, DECEMBER 22, 1792. SONS of renowned sires, Join in harmonious choirs, Swell your loud songs ; Daughters of peerless dames Come with your mild acclaims, Let their revered names Dwell on your tongues. From frowning Albion's seat See the famed band retreat, On ocean tost ; Blue tumbling billows roar, By keel scarce ploughed before, And bear them to this shore Fettered with frost. By yon wave-beaten rock See the illustrious flock Collected stand ; 32 POEMS OF THE PILGRIMS. To seek some sheltering grove Their faithful partners move, Dear pledges of their love In either hand. Not winter's sullen face, Not the fierce tawny race. In arms arrayed, Not hunger shook their faith, Not sickness' baleful breath, Nor Carver's early death, Their souls dismayed. Watered by heavenly dew, The germ of Empire grew, Freedom its root ; From the cold northern pine, Far t'ward the burning line, Spreads the luxuriant vine Bending with fruit. Columbia, child of Heaven ! The best of blessings given Be thine to greet ; Hailing this votive day, ODE. 33 Looking with fond survey Upon the weary way Of Pilgrim feet. Here trace the moss-grown stones Where rest their mouldering bones, Again to rise ; And let thy sons be led To emulate the dead, While o'er their tombs they tread With moistened eyes. Sons of renowned sires, Join in harmonious choirs, Swell your loud songs ; Daughters of peerless dames Come with your mild acclaims, Let their revered names Dwell on your tongues. JOHN DAVIS. MEMORY OF OUR FATHERS. IN pleasant lands have fallen the lines That bound our goodly heritage, And safe beneath our sheltering vines Our youth is blest, and soothed our age. What thanks, O God, to Thee are due, That Thou didst plant our fathers here ; And watch and guard them as they grew, A vineyard to the planter dear. The toils they bore our ease have wrought ; They sowed in tears in joy we reap ; The birthright they so dearly bought We '11 guard, till we with them shall sleep. Thy kindness to our fathers shown, In weal and woe through all the past, Their grateful sons, O God, shall own, While here their name and race shall last. FLINT. HYMN. DECEMBER 22, 1799. HAIL, Pilgrim Fathers of our race ! With grateful hearts your toils we trace ; Again this votive day returns, And finds us bending o'er your urns. Jehovah's arm prepared the road ; The heathen vanished at his nod ; He gave his vine a lasting root ; He loads its goodly boughs with fruit. The hills are covered with its shade ; Its thousand shoots like cedars spread ; Its branches to the sea expand, And reach to broad Superior's strand. Of peace and truth the gladsome ray Smiles in our skies and cheers the day ; And a new Empire's splendent wheels Roll o'er the top of Western hills. 36 POEMS OF THE PILGRIMS. Hail, Pilgrim Fathers of our race ! With grateful hearts your toils we trace ; Oft as this votive day returns We '11 pay due honors to your urns. SAMUEL DAVIS. LEYDEN STREET, PLYMOUTH. THE PILGRIM FATHERS. TIIKY come that coming who shall tell ? The eye may weep, the heart may swell, But the poor tongue in vain essays A fitting note for them, to raise. We hear the after-shout that rings For them who smote the power of kings ; The swelling triumph all would share ; But who the dark defeat would dare, And boldly meet the wrath and woe That wait the unsuccessful blow? It were an envied fate, we deem, To live a land's recorded theme, "\Vhen we are in the tomb. We, too, might yield the joys of home, And waves of winter darkness roam, And tread a shore of bloom, Knew we those waves, through coming time, Should roll our names to every clime ; Felt we that millions on that shore Should stand, our memory to adore. 38 POEMS OF THE PILGRIMS. But no glad vision burst in light Upon the pilgrims' aching sight ; Their hearts no proud hereafter swelled ; Deep shadows veiled the way they held ; The yell of vengeance was the trump of fame ; Their monument, a grave without a name. Yet, strong in weakness, there they stand, On yonder ice-bound rock, Stern and resolved, that faithful band, To meet fate's rudest shock. Though anguish rends the father's breast, For them, his dearest and his best, With him the waste who trod, Though tears that freeze the mother sheds Upon her children's houseless heads, The Christian turns to God ! In grateful adoration now, Upon the barren sands they bow. What tongue of joy e'er woke such prayer As bursts in desolation there ! What arm of strength e'er wrought such power As waits to crown that feeble hour ! There into life an infant empire springs ! THE PILGRIM FATHERS. 39 There falls the iron from the soul ; There Liberty's young accents roll Up to the King of kings ! To fair creation's farthest bound That thrilling summons yet shall sound ; The dreaming nations shall awake, And to their centre earth's old kingdoms shake. Pontiff and prince, your sway Must crumble from that day ; Before the loftier throne of Heaven The hand is raised, the pledge is given, One monarch to obey, one creed to own, That monarch, God, that creed, his word alone. Spread out earth's holiest records here Of days and deeds to reverence dear. A zeal like this what pious legends tell ! On kingdoms built In blood and guilt The worshipers of vulgar triumph dwell ; But what exploits with theirs shall page ' Who rose to bless their kind, Who left their nation and their age Man's spirit to unbind ! Who boundless seas passed o'er, 40 POEMS OF THE PILGRIMS. And boldly met, in every path, Famine, and frost, and heathen wrath, To dedicate a shore Where Piety's meek train might breathe their vow, And seek their Maker with an unshamed brow ; Where Liberty's glad race might proudly come, And set up there an everlasting home ! Oh, many a time it hath been told, The story of those men of old : For this fair Poetry hath wreathed Her sweetest, purest flower ; For this proud Eloquence hath breathed His strain of loftiest power : Devotion, too, hath lingered round Each spot of consecrated ground, And hill and valley blessed ; There, where our banished fathers strayed, There, where they loved, and wept, and prayed, There, where their ashes rest. And never may they rest unsung While Liberty can find a tongue. Twine, Gratitude, a wreath for them, More deathless than the diadem, THE PILGRIM FATHERS. 41 Who to life's noblest end, Gave up life's noblest powers, And bade the legacy descend Down, down to us and ours. CHAULES SPRAGUE. HYMN. FOR THE 22o OF DECEMBER, 1803. WHEN o'er the billows heaving deep The Fathers of our race, The precepts of their God to keep, Sought here their resting-place, That gracious God their path prepared, Preserved from every harm, And still for their protection bared His everlasting arm. His breath, inspiring every gale, Impels them o'er the main ; His guardian angel spreads the sail, And tempests howl in vain. For them old ocean's rocks are smoothed December's face grows mild ; To vernal airs her blasts are soothed, And all their rage beguiled. HYMN. 43 When Famine rolls her haggard eyes, His ever bounteous hand Abundance from the sea supplies, And treasure from the sand. Nor yet his tender mercies cease, His overruling plan Inclines to gentleness and peace The heart of savage man. And fan our stony bosoms be To all these wonders blind. Nor swell with thankfulness to Thee, O Parent of mankind ? All gracious God, inflame our zeal ; Dispense one blessing more : Grant us thy boundless love to feel, Thy goodness to adore. JOHN QUINCY ADAMS. ODE. Soxs of New England sires ! ' Why do your altar-fires Flame up on high ; Why from your festal board Wakes the loud anthem, poured Joyous with one accord, Winged for the sky ? Not for the voice that spoke Triumph when Britain's yoke Burst with your chains ; Not for the heroes brave, Bleeding by Charles' wave, Not for the patriot's grave, Wake ye your strains ; But for the Pilgrim-band, They who from Ley den's land Dared the rough sea ; ODE. 45 Braving the ocean vast, Scorning the wintry blast, So they might find, at last, Room for the free. Hark, how the thunder peals ! See, how the brave ship reels, Whirled in the brine ! Courage ! the God that wears Storm-robes, the good man spares : Pilgrim ! He hears your prayers, Joy to your line! Nobly the Mayflower bows While the dark wave she ploughs On to the West ; Till from the tempest's shock' Proudly she lands her flock, Where, on old Plymouth-rock, Freedom found rest. Lo ! from yon starry sphere Spirits in light appear, Glorious, but few. Pilgrims ! we see you now ; Fathers ! to you we bow ; POEMS OF THE PILGRIMS. Hear, then, your children's vow, Still to be true. Join, brothers, heart and hand, Sons of the Pilgrim-band ! Swear now to be All that your fathers sought, All that their virtue wrought, So shall your sons be taught How to be free ! RUFUS DA WES. CLARK'S ISLAND. HAIL, hallowed spot ! where Freedom's rays First darted o'er the wanderer's ways, And gave him rest, First brought the dawn of brighter days, Thy shores are blest ! Rut dark the clouds that lingered round The island which the Pilgrim found, In time long gone, And deep and drear the thrilling sound Of gathering storm. Aye, dark indeed, whose night of yore That rocked the Mayflower near thy shore On wintry tides, For dark the waves that round thee roar, And wash thy sides. But bright the star that lent its ray To bear the traveler on his way From childhood's seat, 48 POEMS OF THE PILGRIMS. That lighted up so fair a day For his retreat. Oh, who would ask a holier bed Than where he laid his weary head, And nobly slept, For though the Pilgrim long hath fled, His spirit 's left. Then hail the spot where first the sound Of Freedom shook the sacred ground In early days, And filled the hills and forests round With gladsome praise. HERSEY B. GOODWIN. HYMN. O GOD, beneath thy guiding hand Our exiled fathers crossed the sea ; And when they trod the wintry strand With prayer and psalm they worshiped Thee. Thou heard'st, well pleased, the song, the prayer Thy hlessing came ; and still its power Shall onward through all ages bear The memory of that holy hour. Laws, freedom, truth, and faith in God Came with those exiles o'er the waves ; And where their pilgrim feet have trod The God they trusted guards their graves. And here thy name, O God of love, Their children's children shall adore, Till these eternal hills remove, And spring adorns the earth no more. LEONARD BACON. 4 ODE. LET children learn the mighty deeds Their sires achieved of old ; And still, as time to time succeeds, To them the tale unfold. Here while we fondly trace the scene This joyous day recalls, Let youth with reverend age convene Within these hallowed walls. Their pious toils, their just rewards, Returning tributes claim, While faithful history records Each venerable name. Here first the temple's votive fane, Aspiring, sought the skies, And here Religion's exiled train Bade sacred altars rise. ODE. 51 No longer now the roaming hordes Unhallowed vigils keep ; No more affrighted mothers guard Their cradled infants' sleep : But social arts and peaceful homes This favored land endear, Where fields and masts and rising domes With scattered grace appear. Let musing strangers view the ground, Here seek tradition's lore, Where Pilgrims walked on holy ground With God in days of yore ; And where around the savage tribe Alarmed with horrid yells, Assembling crowds secure imbibe What holy legend tells. Let children emulate their deeds, Their choral praises sing ; So shall the muse, as time proceeds, Her meed of incense bring. SAMUEL DAVIS. HYMN. DECEMBER 22, 1806. OUR Fathers' God ! to Thee we raise, With one accord, the song of praise ; To Thee our grateful tribute pay Oft as returns this festal day. With tearful eyes we here will trace Thy wonders to the Pilgrim race ; And while those wonders we explore, Their names extol, thy name adore. Our Fathers' God ! Thy own decree Ordained the Pilgrims to be free ; In foreign lands they owned thy care, And found a safe asylum there. When the wide main they traversed o'er, And landed on this sea-beat shore, The Pilgrims' Rock must e'er proclaim Thy guardian care was still the same. TOWN SQUARE, PLYMOUTH. HYMN. 53 Our Fathers' God ! while here we trace Our lineage to the Pilgrim race, Oh, may we like those Pilgrims live, And in the sons the sires revive. Our Fathers' God ! to Thee we raise, With one accord, the song of praise ; To Thee our grateful tribute pay Oft as returns this festal day. REV. DR. HOLMES. FOREFATHERS' DAY. DECEMBER 22. THE memory of the faithful dead Be on their children's hearts this day ! Your fathers' God, their host that led, Will shield you through the stormy way. Your Saviour bids you seek and save The trampled and the oppressed of earth ; At his command the storm to brave. Faithful and true ! come boldly forth ! Their suffering though your souls must share, - Though pride oppress and hate condemn, Stand up ! and breathe your fearless prayer For those in bonds, as bound with them. Unheeded fall the fierce command That bids the struggling soul be dumb ! Shout with a voice to rouse a land ! Bid the free martyr spirit come ! FOREFATHERS' DAY. 55 Searcher of hearts, to Thee we bow, Uphold us with thy staff and rod ; Our fervent hearts are ready now, We come to do thy will, O God! M. W. CHAPMAN. SONG. DECEMBER 22, 1807. HAIL ! sons of the Pilgrims, assembled to pay Festivity's rite to our fathers in glory ! May the ardor of friendship enliven the lay, And their virtues be told, while we glow with the story. With the patriot's fire Be enflamed each desire, To all that is noble each bosom aspire ; For, long as old earth on her axle shall turn, On the altars of freemen pure incense should burn. When tyranny bigotry's banners upreared, Those fathers, for conscience, for freedom, self- banished, Confiding in Heaven, o'er the wild billow steered, And in Holland found refuge, while bigotry vanished : There, strangers awhile From their friends from their Isle, SONG. 57 See them sojourn in hope, in adversity smile ; Till raising again the white sail to the wind, They plough the rough main, their own region to find. Long tossing in doubt, o'er the wildering wave, The pilot yet timid to brave the commotion ; Them hailing to freedom, from perils to save, Columbia displayed her blue skirt from the ocean. In Plymouth they land, On the bleak barren strand, Yet they're strong in their shield an omnip- otent hand : For there to their wanderings a period they find, And their brows with the laurels of free.dom first bind. The savage his quiver exhausted in vain ; He rose but his tomahawk idle descended: Independent, the Pilgrims moved free o 'er the plain ; Magnanimity nerved them their bravery de- fended : Though environed by foes, They found calm repose, 58 POEMS OF THE PILGRIMS. While the wilderness blossomed and smiled like the rose : Till late to the grave, as they smoothly declined, To their offspring their virtue, a birthright, re- signed. When Albion their heirs to enslave vainly strove, When lunatic Gallia committed aggression, They lowered in the combat the assailants hence drove, Independence they won of their rights kept possession. Then oft will we tell, In the feast of the shell, The deeds of their fame, till with transports we swell ; And teach the sweet infant, that smiles on his sire. To pant for like fame, and to glow with like fire. Though society's base were by faction assailed, Or, the bane of our safety, by flattery were var- nished ; Though the veteran be seen in his hamlet un- mailed Retired from the Council, his laurels untar- nished : SONG. 59 Yet the foe on our coast, Lo ! he flies to his post ; His valor impels in himself he 's a host ; And with him the sons of New England shall fly, Resolved to live honored, or nobly to die. Yes, now from the East see aggression impend ! Ye venerable shades, your remembrance shall fire us ; Our rights shall be sacred our laws we '11 de- fend ; Our union shall strengthen true glory inspire us : If the bolt be but hurled, Shall our flags be unfurled ; Though few, yet their fame shall extend o'er the world ; While the honors and laurels that deck our brave tars Shall end but with time, and but fade with the stars ! Thus, oft in our pilgrimage, memory shall glow, As the tale of the past comes with pleasure at- tendant ; And the boast of our nation, latest ages shall know, 60 POEMS OF THE PILGRIMS. Our Fathers in Glory their sons Independent ! Then glad be your song Ye convivial throng ; Roll, roll the full chorus of rapture along : For, long as old earth on her axle shall turn, On the altars of freemen pure incense must burn. JOSEPH WARKEN BK ACRE XT. THE PILGRIM'S VISION. IN the hour of twilight shadows The Pilgrim sire looked out ; He thought of the - bloudy-Salvages " That lurked all round about, Of AVituwamet's pictured knife And Pecksuof s whooping shout ; For the baby's limbs were feeble, Though his father's arms were stout. His home was a freezing cabin, Too bare for the hungry rat ; Its roof was thatched with ragged grass. And bald enough of that. The hole that served for casement Was glazed with an ancient hat ; And the ice was gently thawing From the log whereon he sat. Along the dreary landscape His eyes went to and fro, 62 POEMS OF THE PILGRIMS. The trees all clad in icicles, The streams that did not flow ; A sudden thought flashed o'er him, A dream of long ago, He smote his leathern jerkin, And murmured, " Even so ! " " Come hither, God-be-glorified, And sit upon my knee, Behold the dream unfolding, Whereof I spake to thee By the winter's hearth in Leyden, And on the stormy sea ; True is the dream's beginning, So may its ending be ! " I saw in the naked forest Our scattered remnant cast, A screen of shivering branches Between them and the blast ; The snow was falling round them, The dying fell as fast ; I looked to see them perish, When lo ! the vision passed. " Again mine eyes were opened : The feeble had waxed strong, THE PILGRIM'S VISION. G3 The babes had grown to sturdy men, The remnant was a throng ; By shadowed lake and winding stream, And all the shores along, The howling demons quaked to hear The Christian's godly song. " They slept, the village fathers, By river, lake, and shore, When far adown the steep of time The vision rose once more ; I saw along the winter snow A spectral column pour, And, high above their broken ranks A tattered flag they bore. " Their Leader rode before them, Of bearing calm and high, The light of Heaven's own kindling Throned in his awful eye. These were a Nation's champions, Her dread appeal to try ; God for the right ! I faltered, And, lo ! the train passed by. " Once more, the strife is ended, The solemn issue tried, 64 POEMS OF THE PILGRIMS. The Lord of Hosts, his mighty arm Has helped our Israel's side ; Gray stone and grassy hillock Told where the martyrs died, But peaceful smiles the harvest, And stainless flows .the tide. " A crash, as when some swollen cloud Cracks o'er the tangled trees ! With side to side, and spar to spar, Whose smoking decks are these ? I know St. George's blood-red cross, Thou Mistress of the Seas, But what is she, whose streaming bars Roll out before the breeze ? " Ah, well her iron ribs are knit, Whose thunders strive to quell The bellowing throats, the blazing lips, That pealed the Armada's knell ! The mist was cleared a wreath of stars Rose o'er the crimsoned swell, And, wavering from its haughty peak, The cross of Enland fell ! " O trembling Faith ! though dark the morn, A heavenly torch is thine ; THE PILGRIM'S VISION. 65 While feebler races melt away, And paler orbs decline, Shall still the fiery pillar's ray Along thy pathway shine, To light the chosen tribe that sought This Western Palestine ! "I see the living tide roll on ; It crowns with flaming towers The icy cape of Labrador, The Spaniard's ' land of flowers ! ' It streams beyond the splintered ridge That parts the northern shores ; From eastern rock to sunset wave The Continent is ours ! " He ceased, the grim old soldier-saint, - Then softly bent to cheer The pilgrim-child, whose wasting face Was meekly turned to hear ; And drew his toil-worn sleeve across, To brush the manly tear From cheeks that never changed in wo'e, And never blanched in fear. 5 66 POEMS OF THE PILGRIMS. The weary pilgrim slumbers, His resting-place unknown ; His hands were crossed, his lids were closed, The dust was o'er him strown ; The drifting soil, the mouldering leaf, Along the sod were blown ; His mound has melted into earth, His memory lives alone. So let it live unfading, The memory of the dead, Long as the pale anemone Springs where their tears were shed, Or, raining in the summer's wind In flakes of burning red, The wild rose sprinkles with its leaves The turf where once they bled ! Yea, when the frowning bulwarks That guard this holy strand Have sunk beneath the trampling surge In beds of sparkling sand, While in the waste of ocean One hoary rock shall stand, Be this its latest legend, Here was the Pilgrims' land! 0. W. HOLMES. HYMN. SONS of the noble sires Who braved proud ocean's waves For freedom's sake ! Say will ye quench those fires Their faith and love inspires ; And, standing on their graves, Their paths forsaks ? Shall freedom find a grave, On this blood-ransomed soil ? Must we be slaves ? Our fleeting lives to save, Must we no mercy crave, But with the bondman toil, Branded as knaves ? Shall despots here bear sway, The iron sceptre here display, Our lips to close ? Sons of the Pilgrims ! say Will ye these lords obey, 68 POEMS OF THE PILGRIMS. And ask them when you may The truth disclose ? No no! We answer, no ! The truth we '11 fearless show While breath remains ; Did not our Saviour so ? Would He the truth forego ? Or shrink when bade the foe, T' scape from pains ? While then a slave is found, While man by man is bound, We '11 speak and pray ; We '11 wear the bondman's chains, We '11 bear the bondman's pains, We '11 hear when he complains, We '11 do and say. GEORGE RUSSELL. PILGRIM HALL, PLYMOUTH. THE LANDING OF THE PILGRIM FATHERS IN NEW ENGLAND. THE breaking waves dashed high On a stern and rock-bound coast, And the woods against a stormy sky Their giant branches tossed ; And the heavy night hung dark The hills and waters o'er, When a band of exiles moored their bark On the wild New England shore. Not as the conqueror comes, They, the true-hearted, came ; Not with the roll of the stirring drums, Aud the trumpet that sings of fame : Not as the flying come, In silence and in fear ; They shook the depths of the desert gloom With their hymns of lofty cheer. 70 POEMS OF THE PILGRIMS. Amidst the storm they sang, And the stars heard, and the sea : And the sounding aisles of the dim woods rang To the anthem of the free ! The ocean eagle soared From his nest by the white wave's foam : And the rocking pines of the forest roared, - This was their welcome home ! There were men with hoary hair Amidst that pilgrim band ; Why had they come to wither there, Away from their childhood's land ? There was woman's fearless eye, Lit by her deep love's truth ; There was manhood's brow serenely high, And the fiery heart of youth. What sought they thus afar ? Bright jewels of the mine ? The wealth of seas, the spoils of war ? They sought a faith's pure shrine ! THE LANDING OF THE PILGRIMS. 71 Ay, call it holy ground, The soil where first they trod : They have left unstained what there they found, Freedom to worship God. MRS. HEMANS. THE PILGRIM FATHERS. A VOICE of grief and anger, Of pity mixed with scorn, Moans o'er the waters of the West, Through fire and darkness borne ; And fiercer voices join it, A wild, triumphant yell ! For England's foes, on ocean slain, Have heard it where they fell. What is that voice which cometh Athwart the spectred sea ? The voice of men who left their homes To make their children free ; Of men whose hearts were torches For Freedom's quenchless fire ; Of men whose mothers brave brought forth The sire of Franklin's sire. They speak ! the Pilgrim Fathers Speak to you from their graves ! THE PILGRIM FATHERS. 73 For earth hath muttered to their bones That we are soulless slaves ! The Bradfords, Carvers, Win slows, Have heard the worm complain That less than men oppress the men Whose sires were Pym and Vane ! What saith the voice which boometh Athwart the upbraiding waves ? " Though slaves are ye. our sons are free; * Then why will you be slaves ? The children of your fathers Were Hampden, Pym, and Vane ! " Land of the sires of Washington, Bring forth such men again ! EBENEZER ELLIOTT, the " Corn-Law Rliymer " of England, TWO HUNDRED YEARS AGO. SUNG AT THE PUBLIC DINNER AT PLYMOUTH, DECEMBfc. 22, 1820. COME, listen to my story, Though often told before, Of men who passed to glory, Through toil and travail sore ; Of men who did for conscience' sake Their native land forego, And sought a home and freedom here, Two hundred years ago. Oh, 't was no earth-born passion That bade the adventurers stray ; The world and all its fashion With them had passed away. A voice from Heaven bade them look Above the things below, When here they sought a resting-place, Two hundred years ago. TWO HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 75 Oh, dark the scene and dreary, When here they set them down ; Of storms and billows weary, And chilled with winter's frown. Deep moaned the forests to the wind, Loud howled the savage foe, While here their evening prayer arose, Two hundred years ago. 'T would drown the heart in sorrow To tell of all their woes ; No respite could they borrow, But from the grave's repose. Yet naught could daunt the Pilgrim Band, Or sink their courage low, Who came to plant the Gospel here, Two hundred years ago. With humble prayer and fasting, In every strait and grief, They sought the Everlasting, And found a sure relief. Their cov'nant God o'ershadowed them, Their shield from every foe, And gave them here a dwelling-place, Two hundred years ago. 76 POEMS OF THE PILGRIMS. Of fair New England's glory They laid the corner-stone ; This praise in deathless story Their grateful sons shall own. Prophetic, they foresaw in time A mighty state should grow, For them, a few faint Pilgrims here, Two hundred years ago. If greatness be in daring, Our Pilgrim Sires were great, Whose sojourn here, unsparing, Disease and famine wait ; And oft their treacherous foes combined To lay the strangers low, While founding here their commonwealth. Two hundred years ago. Though seeming over zealous In things by us deemed light, They were but duly jealous Of power usurping right. They nobly chose to part with all Most dear to men below, To worship here their God in peace, Two hundred years ago. TWO HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 77 From seeds they sowed with weeping Our richest harvests rise ; We still the fruits are reaping Of Pilgrim enterprise. Then, grateful, we to them will pay The debt of fame we owe, Who planted here the tree of life, Two hundred years ago. As comes this period yearly, Around our cheerful fires We '11 think and tell how dearly Our comforts cost our sires ; For them will wake the votive song, And bid the canvas glow, Who fixed the home of freedom here, Two hundred years ago. JAMES FLINT. HYMN. SUNG AT THE CELEBRATION OF 1824. HOLY spot, where glowing choirs Oft have wakened grateful lyres, Oft have kindled grateful fires, O'er the Pilgrim's grave ! Once again we press the shore, Where our Fathers sternly swore Ocean should forget to roar Ere they would be slaves. Hail the dawn when Freedom's rays Hushed Columbia's icy face ; Sweeter strains arise of praise Than from Memnon's harp. Hail the spot, our Sires' retreat ; Hail the waves that round them beat ; Hail the Rock that bore their feet, When their wanderings ceased ! HYMN. 79 Fancy paints in yonder bay The bark that broke the Pilgrim's way ; The Cradle where our nation lay In her infant days. See the boat approach the land, Freighted with the pious band ; See, they kneel upon the strand, Warm with gratitude. Vent your fury, wind and flood, Freedom's bark is safely moored ; Freedom's sons, with hearts assured, Now their work begin. Gloomy scenes await the brave, Savage foes around them rave ; Carver fills an early grave, Hope well-nigh expires. But to Faith's reluming eye Visions bright in prospect lie ; E'en a triumph 't were to die, If in conscience free. Still above the sacred dead Future crowds shall yearly tread ; 80 POEMS OF THE PILGRIMS. Blooming youth and hoary head, Meet around their urns. Oft shall Genius' fluent tongue Trace the story, swell the song ; Oft amidst the listening throng Thrill the feeling soul. Ye who Ve sprung from noble blood, Men who spurned the tyrant's rod, Men who bowed to none but God, Here your vows repeat : " By their pious shades we swear, By their toils and perils here, We will guard with jealous care Law and Liberty." WILLIAM P. LUNT. ODE. NOT all the loftiest memories That rose on earlier days, When, with the trump and sacrifice, And swelling pomp of praise, Men gathered to their pillared halls, 'Mid garlands, joy, and wine, To gaze on heroes round the walls, In marble made divine, And pour the deep libation there To victors passed away ; Or minds whose wonders, rich and rare, Poured splendor on their day, Not all in finer hearts can vie With those that summon here, To lift, on Freedom's clarion high, The anthem of our cheer ! We sing a nobler race than passed In ancient times to glory : 6 82 rOEMS OF THE PILGRIMS. We sing of deeds that shall outlast, In fame, all classic story ; Of men who fought for God, and gave Home for a desert shore, With hearts too panoplied and brave To quail beneath its roar ! Of Exiles of a deathless line, And proud, unshrinking brow ; Lone Pilgrims to a rocky shrine, Where a people bend them now : A rocky shrine, unsheltered, rude, Where the wild wolf from his lair Shrieked through the pathless solitude, And broke the voice of prayer ! We sing of heroes who outdid The boast of chivalry : Whose valor braved the shock amid A stormy sea and sky ; Whose deeds were deeds of mercy, done To persecuted man ; Whose wreaths were wreaths of triumph, won In Virtue's fearless van ! New England's Fathers ! men who dared The agony of years ; ODE. Whom pale Oppression never spared, But could not bow to tears ; Who 'mid the howl of winter fled, And your banner here unfurled, And Conscience in her pride outled Unfettered to the world ! Pilgrims of glory ! there shall rise Fast praise from heart and tongue Of all for whom in sacrifice, Like martyr-saints, ye sprung ; And their children's children shall outpour, From echoing clime to clime, New poeans for the toils ye bore In a nation's morning-time. Two hundred years their cloudy wings Expand above your graves ; And lo, what wide-flashed glory flings O'er all New England's waves! Fathers of Liberty ! to ye We lift the wine-cup now ; Yours be the hallowed memory That consecrates our vow. And should the voice of prophecy That 's doomed us to the dust 84 POEMS OF THE PILGRIMS. E'er chant the requiem of the Free, By tyranny accursed, Oh, be a remnant true to her ! Sons whom New England bore, Together seek one sepulchre On Plymouth's sounding shore ! GKENVILLE MELLEN. NATIONAL MONUMENT, PLYMOUTH. HYMN. WRITTEN FOR DECEMBER 22, 1831. THE brittle bark is on the gale, Heaven guides her course, and swells the sail ; The Pilgrims reach yon welcome shore, All vocal with the songs they pour. Keen round them blows the winter's air ; The weary wanderers kneel for prayer ; From opening clouds a voice is given : Pilgrims, there 's " nothing true but heaven " ! What though no mystic cloud, nor flame, Led on the wanderers as they came ? By faith they saw the one true God Was guardian of the way they trod. God of our fathers, hear our prayer ! This church be still and long thy care ; And grateful at this day's return Fresh incense at thy shrine shall burn. 86 POEMS OF THE PILGRIMS. How long shall erring mortals feel The exclusive, the unholy zeal The golden gates of heaven to close On all they dare to call thy foes ? These doors we open fling, and free To all, great God, who call on Thee ; If warm their hearts in Christian deeds, Who shall exclude them for their creeds ? Here may they drink from living springs The light and life the gospel brings ; And, healed by Siloa's waters, deem Thy power and bounty feed the stream. Rise, Bethlehem's star, and spread thy blaze To every land in cheering rays, Till angels, in the glad employ, Cast down their crowns and shout for joy. ANONYMOUS. NATIONAL HYMN. GOD hath from age to age Raised hero up, and sage, For Liberty ; He bared the Red Sea's sand, He led to Plymouth's strand, And planted in this Western land The Fathers free. Eternal, low we bow ! This land invokes Thee now, The children hear ! May wrong and outrnge cease, Wisdom and worth increase ; Be justice, truth, and faith, and peace Than gold more dear. Aught friendly to our race Quicken our souls to embrace With will right good. May we, great God, in Thee, 88 POEMS OF THE PILGRIMS. One common Father see ; In man one great fraternity, Made of one blood ! Us, Father, Thou hast given The highest under Heaven To rise or fall. Let this Republic shine With rising light benign, And thus fulfill the grand design, The good of all DAVID LEE CHILD. REMEMBRANCE OF THE PILGRIMS. WITH joy I heard them say, When roving far abroad, On this, their landing day, We '11 praise the Pilgrims' God. I knew the cry, I '11 join the song ; Thy courts we '11 throng, O Thou Most High ! This day let all awake, And sing the mighty dead, Who first, for Zion's sake, O'er raging oceans fled. Had not our God Preserved that flock, Safe on the rock They ne'er had trod. At once their temples rose ; Our schools were founded then ; 90 POEMS OF THE PILGRIMS. Nor could their mightier foes Withstand those valiant men. But vain their skill, And vain their sword, Had not the Lord Upheld them still. Peace to that holy ground, That consecrated spot, Che first our fathers found Where tyrants trouble not ! We '11 sound abroad, Where'er we roam, The Pilgrims' home, The Pilgrims' God ! ANONYMOUS. HYMN. Lo, the rising star of Freedom Once our Pilgrim Fathers blest ; By her light ordained to lead them To the land of promised rest. Star of heaven ! Star of heaven ! Traveling toward the distant west. While their countless toils enduring, Faith the promise kept in sight : For themselves and sons securing Home and country, truth and light. Star of heaven ! Star of heaven ! Pointing to Jehovah's might. Now the relics round us lying, Grateful children guard their clay ; While their spirits, never dying, Hope has borne on wings away. 92 POEMS OF THE PILGRIMS. Star of heaven ! Star of heaven ! Guiding to a brighter day. Raise we honors to their merit, Temples sculptured with their name ? No ! their virtues to inherit Seals their bright and conscious fame. Star of heaven ! Star of heaven ! High they shine with ceaseless flame. See the lights around us gleaming, Still to guide the Pilgrims' eyes : See the star of empire, beaming, Bids their children's glory rise. Star of heaven ! Star of heaven ! Glowing still in western skies. S. DEANE. THE SAINTED SIRES. WHILE Pilgrims' sons, a festive throng, To sainted sires their homage pay, Be this the burthen, the burthen of their song, And rapture animate the lay : CHORUS. Hail, ye Pilgrims ! Ye sainted Pilgrims, hail ! Till hours, and years, and time shall fail. By heroes led, by virtue warmed, Conducted by the Almighty hand, They braved the ocean, the ocean and the storm, And freedom sought in unknown land. The perils of the ocean past, Fresh dangers quickly them surround ; Shrill screams the savage the savage o 'er the blast, And rocks and hills repeat the sound. 94 POEMS OF THE PILGRIMS. The barbarous foe to battle fly, Intent on bloody deeds and spoil ; Swift flies the arrow, the arrow through the sky, But victory crowns the Pilgrim's toil. Success attend the good and brave, The meed of praise to them belongs; Virtue shall triumph shall triumph o'er the grave. And angels join their rapturous songs. Hail ye Pilgrims ! Ye sainted Pilgrims, hail ! When earth, and sky, and time shall fail. ANONYMOUS. ODE. FOR THE CELEBRATION AT PLYMOUTH, DECEMBER 22, 1824- THE Pilgrim Fathers, where are they ? The waves that brought them o'er Still roll in the bay, and throw their spray, As they break along the shore ; Still roll in the bay, as they rolled that day When the Mayflower moored below, When the sea around was black with storms, And white the shore with snow. The mists that wrapped the Pilgrim's sleep Still brood upon the tide ; And his rocks yet keep their watch by the deep, To stay its waves of pride. But the snow-white sail that he gave to the gale, When the heavens looked dark, is gone ; As an angel's wing, through an opening cloud, Is seen, and then withdrawn. The Pilgrim exile, sainted name ! The hill whose icy brow 96 POEMS OF THE PILGRIMS. Rejoiced, when he came, in the morning's flame, In the morning's flame burns now ; And the moon's cold light, as it lay that night On the hill-side and the sea, Still lies where he laid his houseless head ; But the Pilgrim, where is he ? The Pilgrim Fathers are at rest; When summer's throned on high, And the world's warm breast is in verdure dressed. Go, stand on the hill where they lie. The earliest ray of the golden day On that hallowed spot is cast ; And the evening sun, as he leaves the world, Looks kindly on that spot last. 'The Pilgrim spirit has not fled : It walks in noon's broad light; And it watches the bed of the glorious dead, With the holy stars, by night. It watches the bed of the brave who have bled, And shall guard this ice-bound shore Till the waves of the bay, where the Mayflower lay, Shall foam and freeze no more. JOHN PIERPOXT. HYMN FOR DECEMBER 22, 1870. GREAT God of all, in humble, grateful prayer, We come before Thee now on bended knee, To thank Thee that Thou didst our fathers spare From the wild dangers of a wintry sea. We thank Thee that when dangers greater far Encompassed them, that brave hearts might ap- pall, Thou didst support them, and didst let the Star Of Hope shine on their hearts, and strengthen all. And we their children, on this joyous day, Ts T o longer peril-driven or tempest-tossed, Approach thy throne in thankfulness, and pray Our fathers' bright example be not lost. May we like them have strength and courage given, Bear bravely up, e'en tho' we feel the rod ; Know that a life well spent leads on to Heaven, And duty's paths are but the paths to God. NATHANIEL SPOONER. 7 STANZAS FROM "THE PRESENT CRISIS." 'T is as easy to be heroes as to sit the idle slaves Of a legendary virtue carved upon our fathers' graves ; Worshipers of light ancestral make the present light a crime ; Was the Mayflower launched by cowards, steered by men behind their time ? Turn those tracks toward Past or Future that make Plymouth Rock sublime ? They were men of present valor, stalwart old icono- clasts, Unconvinced by axe or gibbet that all virtue was the Past's ; But we make their truth our falsehood, thinking that hath made us free, Hoarding it in mouldy parchments, while our ten- der spirits flee The rude grasp of that great Impulse which drove them across the sea. STANZAS FROM " THE PRESENT CRISIS." 99 They have rights who dare maintain them ; we are traitors to our sires, Smothering in their holy ashes Freedom's new-lit altar fires. Shall we make their creed our jailer? Shall we, in our haste to slay, From the tombs of the old prophets steal the funeral lamps away, To light up the martyr-fagots round the prophets of to-day ? New occasions teach new duties ; time makes an- cient good uncouth ; They must upward still, and onward, who would keep abreast of truth. Lo, before us gleam her camp-fires ! We ourselves must Pilgrims be ; Launch our Mayflower, and steer boldly through the desperate winter sea, Nor attempt the Future's portal with the Past's blood-rusted key. J. R. LOWELL. December, 1845. TURN CIRCULATION DEPARTMENT )>> 202 Main Library AN PERIOD 1 HOME USE 2 3 5 6 ALL BOOKS MAY BE RECALLED AFTER 7 DAYS 1 -month loans may be renewed by calling 642-3405 nonth loans may be recharged by bringing books to Circulation Desk Renewals and recharges may be made 4 days prior to due date DUE AS STAMPED BELOW REC.ClR.jmi7 '77 RAA NO. DD 6, UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA, BERKELEY BERKELEY, CA 94720