Golden Numbers Part 42

_Landing of the Pilgrim Fathers_

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 sh.o.r.e.

Not as the conqueror comes, They, the true-hearted, came; Not with the roll of the stirring drums, And the trumpet that sings of fame: Not as the flying come, In silence and in fear: They shook the depths of the desert's gloom With their hymns of lofty cheer.

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 h.o.a.ry 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!

Ay, call it holy ground, The soil where first they trod;-- They have left unstained what there they found-- Freedom to worship G.o.d.

FELICIA HEMANS.

_The Twenty-second of December_[20]

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; but 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.

[Footnote 20: _By courtesy of D. Appleton & Co., publishers of Bryant's Complete Poetical Works._]

_Washington_

Soldier and statesman, rarest unison; High-poised example of great duties done Simply as breathing, a world's honors worn As life's indifferent gifts to all men born; Dumb for himself, unless it were to G.o.d, But for his barefoot soldiers eloquent, Tramping the snow to coral where they trod, Held by his awe in hollow-eyed content; Modest, yet firm as Nature's self; unblamed Save by the men his n.o.bler temper shamed; Never seduced through show of present good By other than unsetting lights to steer New-trimmed in Heaven, nor than his steadfast mood More steadfast, far from rashness as from fear; Rigid, but with himself first, grasping still In swerveless poise the wave-beat helm of will; Not honored then or now because he wooed The popular voice, but that he still withstood; Broad-minded, higher-souled, there is but one Who was all this and ours, and all men's,--WASHINGTON.

JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL.

_From "Under the Old Elm."_

_Warren's Address_

Stand! the ground's your own, my braves!

Will ye give it up to slaves?

Will ye look for greener graves?

Hope ye mercy still?

What's the mercy despots feel?

Hear it in that battle peal!

Read it on yon bristling steel!

Ask it,--ye who will!

Fear ye foes who kill for hire?

Will ye to your homes retire?

Look behind you! they're afire, And, before you, see Who have done it!--From the vale On they come!--and will ye quail?-- Leaden rain and leaden hail Let their welcome be!

In the G.o.d of battles trust!

Die we may,--and die we must; But oh, where can dust to dust Be consigned so well, As where Heaven its dews shall shed On the martyred patriot's bed, And the rocks shall raise their head Of his deeds to tell!

JOHN PIERPONT.

_Carmen Bellicosum_

In their ragged regimentals Stood the old Continentals, Yielding not, When the grenadiers were lunging, And like hail fell the plunging Cannon shot; When the files Of the isles, From their smoky night encampment, bore the banner of the rampant Unicorn, And grummer, grummer, grummer, roll'd the roll of the drummer, Through the morn!

Then with eyes to the front all, And guns horizontal, Stood our sires; And the b.a.l.l.s whistled deadly, And in streams flashing redly Blazed the fires; As the roar On the sh.o.r.e, Swept the strong battle-breakers o'er the green sodded acres Of the plain; And louder, louder, louder, cracked the black gunpowder, Cracking amain!

Now like smiths at their forges Worked the red Saint George's Cannoniers, And the "villainous saltpetre"

Rung a fierce, discordant metre 'Round their ears; As the swift Storm-drift, With hot, sweeping anger, came the Horse Guards' clangor On our flanks; And higher, higher, higher, burned the old-fashioned fire Through the ranks!

Then the old-fashioned Colonel Galloped through the white infernal Powder cloud; His broad-sword was swinging, And his brazen throat was ringing Trumpet loud; Then the blue Bullets flew, And the trooper-jackets redden at the touch of the leaden Rifle-breath; And rounder, rounder, rounder, roared our iron six-pounder, Hurling death!

GUY HUMPHREYS MCMASTER.

_The American Flag_

(Extract)

When Freedom from her mountain height Unfurled her standard to the air, She tore the azure robe of night, And set the stars of glory there.

She mingled with its gorgeous dyes The milky baldric of the skies, And striped its pure, celestial white, With streakings of the morning light; Then from his mansion in the sun She called her eagle bearer down, And gave into his mighty hand The symbol of her chosen land.

Flag of the free heart's hope and home!

By angel hands to valor given; Thy stars have lit the welkin dome, And all thy hues were born in heaven.

Forever float that standard sheet!

Where breathes the foe but falls before us, With Freedom's soil beneath our feet, And Freedom's banner streaming o'er us!

JOSEPH RODMAN DRAKE.

_Old Ironsides_

(U. S. S. "Const.i.tution.")