“ Strike top-gallants! mind your helm! jump aloft! ’Twas such a night as this, my lads, a rakish bark was drowned, When demons foul, that whisper seamen oft, Scooped a tomb amid the flashing surge that never shall be found. Square the yards! a double reef! Hark the blast! O, fiercely has it fallen on the war-ship of the brave, When its tempest fury stretched the stately mast All along her foamy sides, as they shouted on the wave, “Bear a hand!” ”

“ Fair gleams the snowy altar-cloth, The silver vessels sparkle clean, The shrill bell rings, the censer swings, And solemn chants resound between.
Sometimes on lonely mountain-meres I find a magic bark; I leap on board: no helmsman steers: I float till all is dark. A gentle sound, an awful light! Three angels bear the holy Grail: With folded feet, in stoles of white, On sleeping wings they sail. Ah, blessed vision! blood of God! My spirit beats her mortal bars, As down dark tides the glory slides, And star-like mingles with the stars. ”

“ HURRAH! the seaward breezes Sweep down the bay amain. Heave up, my lads, the anchor! Run up the sail again! Leave to the lubber landsmen The rail-car and the steed; The stars of heaven shall guide us, The breath of heaven shall speed.
From the hill-top looks the steeple, And the lighthouse from the sand; And the scattered pines are waving Their farewell from the land. One glance, my lads, behind us, For the homes we leave one sigh, Ere we take the change and chances Of the ocean and the sky. ”

“ 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!
Aye, call it holy ground, The soil where first they trod; They have left unstained what there they found,— Freedom to worship God.
[Pg 112]
The Days of Chivalry.
ALAS! The days of chivalry are fled, The brilliant tournament exists no more; Our loves are cold, and dull as ice or lead, And courting is a most enormous bore. ”

“ And slowly answered Arthur from the barge: “The old order changeth, yielding place to new, And God fulfils himself in many ways, Lest one good custom should corrupt the world. Comfort thyself: what comfort is in me? I have lived my life, and that which I have done May He within himself make pure! but thou, If thou shouldst never see my face again, Pray for my soul. More things are wrought by prayer Than this world dreams of. ”

“ The mother who conceals her grief, While to her breast her son she presses, Then breathes a few brave words and brief, Kissing the patriot brow she blesses, With no one but her secret God To know the pain that weighs upon her, Sheds holy blood as e’er the sod Received on Freedom’s field of honor! ”

“ MY good blade carves the casques of men, My tough lance thrusteth sure, My strength is as the strength of ten, Because my heart is pure. The shattering trumpet shrilleth high, The hard brands shiver on the steel, The splintered spear-shafts crack and fly, The horse and rider reel: They reel, they roll in clanging lists, And when the tide of combat stands, Perfume and flowers fall in showers, That lightly rain from ladies’ hands. ”

“ See the noble fellow’s face As the big ship, with a bound, Clears the entry like a hound, Keeps the passage as its inch of way were the wide seas profound! See, safe through shoal and rock, How they follow in a flock. Not a ship that misbehaves, not a keel that grates the ground, Not a spar that comes to grief! [Pg 42] The peril, see, is past, All are harbored to the last; And just as Hervé Riel halloos, “Anchor!”—sure as fate, Up the English come, too late. ”

“ At break of day again we hear The ringing words of Paul Revere, And beat of drum and bugle near, And shots that shake the throne Of tyranny, across the sea, And wake the sons of Liberty To strike for freedom and be free:— Our king is God alone! ”

“ By a mighty will Living defiant of the wants that kill, Because his death would seal his comrades’ fate; Cheering, with ceaseless and inventive skill, Those Polar waters, dark and desolate. Equal to every trial, every fate, He stands, until spring, tardy with relief, Unlocks the icy gate, And the pale prisoners thread the world once more, To the steep cliffs of Greenland’s pastoral shore, Bearing their dying chief. ”

“ And they with winning beckonings— Who looked so sweet and saintly wise— His buoyant spirit drew afar From creaking timbers, shivering sails, And ships that strain in autumn gales, And snow-mixed rains, and sleeting hails, And wind and waves at endless war. Oh! who will e’er forget the day, The bitter tears, the voiceless prayer, The thoughts of grief we could not say, The shallow graves within the bay, The fifteen dear ones buried there, The grown, the young, who, side by side, Without or coffin, shroud, or priest, Were laid ”

“ Strong arms are battling with the stubborn foe, In vain attempts their power to overthrow; With mocking glee they revel with their prey, Defying human skill to check their way.
And see! far up above the flames’ hot breath, Something that’s human waits a horrid death: A little child, with waving golden hair, Stands like a phantom ’mid the horrid glare, Her pale, sweet face against the window pressed, While sobs of terror shake her tender breast. ”

“ On the shore The startled people stand, And watch the signal lights that shine on high, And through the pitchy darkness seek to spy The struggling ship, or to their comrades try To lend a helping hand. ”

“ For what are men better than sheep or goats That nourish a blind life within the brain, If, knowing God, they lift not hands of prayer Both for themselves and those who call them friend? For so the whole round earth is every way Bound by gold chains about the feet of God. ”

“ Statue-like, Awhile they gaze on the fallen multitude, Each with his sabre up, in act to strike; Then, as at once recovering from the spell, Rush forward to the altar, and as soon Are gone again, amid no clash of arms, Bearing away the maidens and the treasures. Where are they now? Ploughing the distant waves, Their sails all set, and they upon the deck Standing triumphant. ”

“ They join, they enter in, and up the aisle Led by the full-voiced choir, in bright procession, Range round the altar. In his vestments there The patriarch stands; and while the anthem flows, Who can look on unmoved? Mothers in secret Rejoicing in the beauty of their daughters; Sons in the thought of making them their own; And they, arrayed in youth and innocence, Their beauty heightened by their hopes and fears. At length the rite is ending. All fall down In earnest prayer, all of all ranks together ”

“ The wife who girds her husband’s sword, ’Mid little ones who weep or wonder, And bravely speaks the cheering word, What though her heart be rent asunder, Doomed nightly in her dreams to hear The bolts of death around him rattle, Hath shed as sacred blood as e’er Was poured upon a field of battle! ”

“ I am so deeply smitten through the helm That without help I cannot last till morn. Thou therefore take my brand Excalibur, Which was my pride: for thou rememberest how In those old days, one summer noon, an arm Rose up from out the bosom of the lake, Clothed in white samite, mystic, wonderful, Holding the sword ”

“ They see the green trees wave On the heights o’erlooking Greve. Hearts that bled are stanched with balm. “Just our rapture to enhance, Let the English rake the bay, Gnash their teeth and glare askance As they cannonade away! ’Neath rampired Solidor pleasant riding on the Rance!” How hope succeeds despair on each captain’s countenance! Out burst all with one accord, “This is Paradise for Hell! Let France, let France’s king, Thank the man that did the thing!” ”

“ In lofty halls, where fortune takes its ease, Sunk in the treasures of all lands and seas; In happy homes, where warmth and comfort meet The weary traveller with their smiles to greet; In lonely dwellings, where the needy swarm Round starving embers, chilling limbs to warm,— Rises the prayer that makes the sad heart light, “Thank God for home this bitter, bitter night!” ”

“ Apollo’s brow, a mien like Mars, in Beauty’s mould he seemed new-made, As on his golden hair the sun with dazzling dalliance played.
’Tis Marcus Curtius! Purer blood none there could boast, and none more brave: There stands the youthful patriot, come, a Roman, Rome to save. His own young life, he offers that, yea, volunteers himself to throw Within the cleft to make it close, and stay the heavy woe.
And now on horseback, fully armed, behold him, for the hour hath come. The Roman guards keep watch and ward, and beats the muffled drum. ”

“ As the rays of setting sun Light the sky with mellow beauty, aged sires, with heads of white, Tell the children why the curfew did not ring that one sad night.
O’er the distant hills came Cromwell. Bessie saw him; and her brow, Lately white with sickening horror, glows with sudden beauty now. At his feet she told her story, showed her hands, all bruised and torn; And her sweet young face, so haggard, with a look so sad and worn, Touched his heart with sudden pity, lit his eyes with misty light. “Go! your lover lives,” cried Cromwell. “Curfew shall not ring to-night!” ”

“ THE maid who binds her warrior’s sash, With smile that well her pain dissembles, The while beneath her drooping lash One starry tear-drop hangs and trembles, Though heaven alone records the tear, And fame shall never know the story, Her heart has shed a drop as dear As e’er bedewed the field of glory. ”

“ Behold how fast the roaring flames advance! Quick! quick! brave spirits to his rescue fly! Up! up! by heavens, this hero must not die!
Silence! he comes along the burning road, Bearing with tender care his living load. Aha! he totters! Heaven in mercy save The good, true heart that can so nobly brave! He’s up again, and now he’s coming fast! One moment, and the fiery ordeal’s past, And now he’s safe! Bold flames, ye fought in vain! A happy mother clasps her child again. ”

“ And our sails are riven before the breeze, While our cordage and shrouds into icicles freeze!’
“Thus spake the skipper beside the mast, While the arrowy sleet fell thick and fast; And our bark drove onward before the blast That goaded the waves, till the angry main Rose up and strove with the hurricane.
“Up spake the mate, and his tone was gay,— ‘Shall we at this hour to fear give way? We must labor, in sooth, as well as pray. Out, shipmates, and grapple home yonder sail, That flutters in ribbons before the gale!’
“Loud swelled the tempest, and rose the shriek, ‘Save, save! ”

“ A sailor whose heroic soul That hour should yet reveal, By name John Maynard, Eastern born, Stood calmly at the wheel. “Head her southeast!” the captain shouts, Above the smothered roar,— “Head her southeast without delay! Make for the nearest shore!”
John Maynard watched the nearing flames, But still, with steady hand, He grasped the wheel, and steadfastly He steered the ship to land. “John Maynard, can you still hold out?” He heard the captain cry. A voice from out the stifling smoke Faintly responds, “Ay, ay!” ”

“ And heart-beats quicken with a strange affright. From tranquil slumber springs, at duty’s call, The ready friend no danger can appall; Fierce for the conflict, sturdy, true, and brave, He hurries forth to battle and to save. ”

“ The circling century has brought THE day on which our fathers fought For liberty of deed and thought, One hundred years ago! We crown the day with radiant green, And buds of hope to bloom between, And stars undimmed, whose heavenly sheen Lights all the world below. ”

“ A thankful look he cast to heaven, and then His steed he spurred, in haste to lead such noble men.
[Pg 34]
Fastening the Buckle.
STAND still, my steed, though the foe is near, And sharp the rattle of hoofs on the hill. And see! there’s the glitter of many a spear, And a wrathful shout that bodes us ill. Stand still! Our way is weary and long, And muscle and foot are put to the test. Buckle and girth must be tightened and strong; And rider and horse are far from rest. ”

“ When on my goodly charger borne Through dreaming towns I go, The cock crows ere the Christmas morn, The streets are dumb with snow. The tempest crackles on the leads, And, ringing, springs from brand and mail; But o’er the dark a glory spreads, And gilds the driving hail. I leave the plain, I climb the height; No branchy thicket shelter yields; But blessed forms in whistling storms Fly o’er waste fens and windy fields. [Pg 89]
[Pg 90]
[Pg 91]
A maiden knight, to me is given Such hope, I know not fear ”

“ Till ploughing in strong agonies Their furrows deep into the land, They carried rocks, and bars of sand Past farthest margin of old seas, And in their giant fury bore Full thirty crowded craft ashore. ”

“ Though the mist upon our jackets In the bitter air congeals, And our lines wind stiff and slowly From off the frozen reels, Though the fog be dark around us, And the storm blow high and loud, We will whistle down the wild wind, And laugh beneath the cloud! ”

“ The vision of horseman will slowly dim, And pursuer seek the pursued in vain. Ha! stirrup is strong and girth is tight! One bound to the saddle, and off we go. I count their spears as they glisten bright In the ruddy beams of the sunset glow. ”

“ Yet secure from harm you shall be, None need fear before I die. That my sufferings may be shortened, Ask of Him who rules on high.”
Then unto his forge he straightway Walked erect, with rapid step, While the people followed after, Some with shouts, while others wept; And with nerve as steady as when He had plied his trade for gain, He selected, without faltering, From his store, the heaviest chain.
To his anvil first he bound it, Next his limb he shackled fast, Then he said unto his townsfolk, “All your danger now is past. ”