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V
THE TENT ON THE BEACH

AND DRAMATIC
JlUttfiitrateD
LYRICS
Digitized by the Internet Archive

in
2015
https://archive.org/details/tentonbeachdrannaOOwhit_0
So passed
the Quakej's through Boston tow?i (page
THE TENT
ON THE BEACH
AND DRAMATIC
LYRICS
BY JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER

WITH ILLUSTRATIONS
FROM DESIGNS BY CHARLES H. WOODBURY
AND MARCIA O. WOODBURY
BOSTON AND NEW YORK

HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN AND COMPANY
1899
COPYRIGHT,
1899,
BY HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN & CO.
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
NOTE
THE
simple device which Mr. Whittier em-
ployed for framing some of his most characteristic
pictures in verse of
itself a delightful
sketch of
This poetical picnic

actual fact, and
Hampton
of gray sand
is
the screen.
it is
summer
group of
background of ocean and stretches

once suggest tableaux vivants, and
the figures in the scene themselves
scenes and dramatic incidents upon
The whole
conception
most natural for two
gether, to reflect
of their
The
the added charm, as of a play within a play,
when we have
projecting new
that
in
but slightly removed from
or Salisbury Beach.
at
is
more than one poem of Mr. Whit-
friends, the great
there
and nature
reminiscent of gatherings in the
tier's is
at
is
life
human companionship.
art,
some of
is
artists,
so pictorial
working
to-
these images in the mirror
and Mr. and Mrs. Woodbury have
thus added their grace to the poet's invention.
The poems which

might
easily
friends
more
have been added are such as
have been told had the poet and
pitched their tent again, or been a
reluctant to strike
holiday.
it
at
his
little
the close of their
CONTENTS
THE WRECK OF RIVERMOUTH
THE GRAVE BY THE LAKE
THE BROTHER OF MERCY
THE CHANGELING
THE MAIDS OF ATTITASH
KALLUNDBORG CHURCH
CABLE
IHt.
HYMN
tJT-ITP
TPIP
'nPAFi Onii
XJlLr\.U
X Jrl.
33
53
cn
6c
05
6qy
BARCLAY OF URY
THE
87
KING'S MISSIVE
HOW THE WOMEN WENT

DOVER
48
50
....
EXILES
37
42
1-IAPPQWPTT
rlr\.t\.roVV
tLLily
THE PALATINE
ABRAHAM DAVENPORT
THE WORSHIP OF NATURE
THE
ZO
r\V
KJr
12
95
FROM
103
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
PAGE
So passed the Quakers through Boston town

(page 102)
Frontispiece
Pitched their white tent where sea-winds blew
" Oho " she muttered, " ye 're brave today "
14
Deepest of
And
all
mysteries,
the saddest, silence
"Lead
Out
The
the church
....
the
was wellnigh done
ghost of what was once a ship
Thev burned
24
will see to
go, as to the slaughter led"
Into the forest they held their
42
56
62
ours"
68
...
way
38
50
wreck of the Palatine
"Let God do His work, we

"I
of these fancies wild"
In the shadow of the ash
Now
is
her out of this evil shadow,
80
106
can scarcely be necessary to name
It
companions
whom
as the
two
reckoned with myself in
this
poetical picnic. Fields the lettered magnate,
and
Taylor the
The
cosmopolite.
free
long line of
sandy beach which defines almost the whole of the
New Hampshire sea-coast is especially marked near

its
by the salt-meadows of
southern extremity
Hampton.
these
meadows, and
imagine
also
The
The Hampton
my
River winds through
the reader
may,
tent pitched near
was the scene of
the
its
buryport
is
its
Great Boar's
banks.
[Mr. Whittier
it
as too
origi-
Decameron method
that each person read his
but abandoned
New-
above brown roofs and
nally designed following the
and feigning
is
the Merrimac, with
lifting its steeples
green trees on
he choose,
Wreck of Rivermouth^
green bluff to the northward
Head; southward
if
mouth, where
hackneyed.]
own poem,

WOULD not
Too
sin, in this half-playful strain,
perhaps for serious years, though
light
born
Of the
enforced leisure of slow pain,
Against the pure ideal which has drawn
My feet to follow its far-shining gleam.

A simple plot mine legends and runes
is
Of
credulous days, old fancies that have lain
Silent
from boyhood taking voice again.
Warmed
into life
once more, even
That, frozen
in the fabled
Thawed
sound
Of
into
a winter fireside
dawns and sunsets by the summer
Whose
dream
sea.
sands are traversed by a silent throng
Of voyagers from that vaster

Of which is an emblem;
Memory
mystery
and
it
To
as the tunes
hunting-horn,
of one
who might have
the dear
tuned
my
song
sweeter music by her delicate ear.
When
heats as of a tropic clime
Burned
Three
all
our inland valleys through.
friends, the guests of
summer
time.
Pitched their white tent where sea-winds blew.
Behind them, marshes, seamed and crossed
With narrow
creeks, and flower-embossed.
Stretched to the dark oak wood, whose leafy arms
Screened from the stormy East the pleasant inland

farms.
At
full
of tide their bolder shore
Of sun-bleached
At
ebb, a
sand the waters beat
smooth and glistening
They touched
Northward
with
light,
floor
receding
feet.
a green bluff broke the chain
Of sand-hills southward stretched a plain

Of salt grass, with a river winding down.
;
Sail-whitened,
town,
and
beyond
the
steeples
Whence sometimes, when the wind was

And dull the thunder of the beach.
They heard the bells of morn and night
Swing, miles away, their
Above low
They saw
And, the
The
of
the
light
silver speech.
scarp and turf-grown wall
the fort-flag rise and
first star
fall
to signal twilight's hour.
lamp-fire glimmer
down from
the
house tower.
They rested there, escaped awhile

From cares that wear the life away,
tall
light-

To
eat the lotus of the Nile
And
To
drink the poppies of Cathay,
fling their loads
of custom down,
Like drift-weed, on the sand-slopes brown,
And
Of
in the
sea-waves drown the restless pack
duties, claims,
and needs that barked upon
their
track.
One, with
his
beard scarce silvered, bore
ready credence in his looks,
magnate, lording o'er
lettered
An
ever-widening realm of books.
In him brain-currents, near and
Converged
The
And
as in a
Ley den
old, dead authors
far.
jar
thronged him round about.
from leathern graves
Elzevir's gray ghosts
looked out.
He knew
each living pundit well,
Could weigh the
And
Of poet
But
gifts
of him or her,
well the market value
if
he
tell
and philosopher.
lost,
the scenes behind.
Somewhat of reverence vague and

Finding the actors human
No
readier lips
fessed.
at
blind,
the best.
than his the good he saw con-
His boyhood fancies not outgrown,
He
loved himself the singer's art;
Tenderly, gently, by
He knew
No
his
own
and judged an author's
heart.
Rhadamanthine brow of doom
Bowed the dazed pedant from his room

And bards, whose name is legion, if denied,
Bore off
alike intact their verses
Pleasant
it
was
to
and
their pride.
roam about
The lettered world as he had done,

And see the lords of song without
Their singing robes and garlands on.
With Wordsworth
Taste rugged
And
paddle Rydal mere,
Elliott's
home-brewed
with the ears of Rogers,
Hear Garrick's buskined
beer.
at fourscore.
tread and Walpole's wit
once more.
And one there was, a dreamer born.

Who, with a mission to fulfil,
Had left the Muses' haunts to turn
The crank of an opinion-mill,
Making his rustic reed of song
weapon in the war with wrong.
Yoking his fancy to the breaking-plough
That beam-deep turned the soil for truth
and grow.
to spring

Too quiet seemed the man to ride
The winged HippogrifF Reform
Was his a voice from side to side
To
pierce the tumult of the storm
silent, shy,
He
To
seemed no
hold his
The
vi'ay
peace-loving man,
fiery partisan
against the public frown.
ban of Church and State, the
mob'
fierce
hounding down.
For while he wrought with strenuous
will
The work his hands had found to do.

He heard the fitful music still
Of winds that out of dream-land blew.
The din about him could not drown
What the strange voices whispered down
Along
The
his task-field
visionary
pomp
of stately phantoms stepped.
The common air was thick with dreams,

He told them to the toiling crowd
Such music
Sang
In
He
And,
To
still,
as the
in his ear
weird processions swept.
woods and streams

he sang aloud
shut bays, on
windy capes,
heard the call of beckoning shapes.

as the gray old
shadows prompted him.
homely moulds of rhyme he shaped

grim.
their legend
He rested now his weary hands.

And lightly moralized and laughed,
As, tracing on the shifting sands
burlesque of his paper-craft,
He saw
the careless waves o'errun
His words, as time before had done.
Each
day's tide-water washing clean away.
Like
letters
And
from the sand, the work of yesterday.
one, whose Arab face was tanned
By
tropic sun and boreal frost.
So travelled there was scarce
Or
people
In idling
The
And in
left
him
a land
to exhaust,
mood had from him
hurled
poor squeezed orange of the world.

the tent-shade, sat beneath a palm.
Smoked, cross-legged
like
Turk,
in
Oriental
calm.
The
very waves that washed the sand
Below him, he had seen before

Whitening the Scandinavian strand
And sultry Mauritanian shore.

From ice-rimmed isles, from summer
seas
Palm-fringed, they bore him messages
He heard the plaintive Nubian

And mule-bells tinkling down
of Spain.
songs again.
the mountain-paths
His memory round the ransacked earth
On
And,
Puck's long girdle
slid at
ease
instant, to the valley's girth
Of mountains,
spice isles of the seas,
Faith flowered in minster stones. Art's guess
At truth and beauty, found access

Yet loved the while, that free cosmopolite,
Old friends, old ways, and kept his boyhood's
;
dreams
Untouched
That
No
in sight.
as yet
by wealth and pride,
virgin innocence of beach
shingly monster, hundred-eyed,
Stared
its
gray sand-birds out of reach
Unhoused, save where,
The
Where
at intervals.
white tents showed their canvas walls.

brief sojourners, in the cool, soft air.
Forgot their inland heats, hard
toil,
and year-long
care.
Sometimes along the wheel-deep sand
one-horse wagon slowly crawled.
Deep
laden with a youthful band.
Whose
look some homestead old recalled
Brother perchance, and
sisters
twain.
And one whose blue eyes told, more

Than the free language of her rosy lip.
Of the
still
plain
dearer claim of love's relationship.
10
With cheeks of russet-orchard tint,

The light laugh of their native rills,
The perfume of their garden's mint,

The breezy freedom of the hills,
They bore, in unrestrained delight.
The motto of the Garter's knight.
Careless as
Hid by
from every gazing thing
if
their innocence, as
Gyges by
his ring.
The clanging sea-fowl came and went.

The hunter's gun in the marshes rang;
At
nightfall
from a neighboring tent
flute-voiced
woman
sweetly sang.
Loose-haired, barefooted, hand-in-hand.
Young girls went tripping down

And youths and maidens, sitting in
the sand
the
moon.
Dreamed o'er the old fond dream from which we

wake too soon.
At times
their fishing-lines they plied.
With an
old Triton at the oar,
Salt as the sea-wind,
As
a lean
tough and dried
cusk from Labrador.
Strange tales he told of wreck and storm,
Had seen the sea-snake's awful form.

And heard the ghosts on Haley's Isle complain.
Speak him off shore, and beg a passage
Spain
to
old
ii
And there, on breezy morns, they saw

The fishing-schooners outward run,
Their low-bent
sails in
Turned white
Sometimes,
in
tack and flaw
or dark to shade and sun.
calms of closing day.
They watched the spectral mirage play.

Saw low, far islands looming tall and nigh.
And
ships, with
upturned keels,
sail like
a sea the
sky.
Sometimes a cloud, with thunder black.

Stooped low upon the darkening main,
Piercing the waves along
its
track
With the slant javelins of rain.

And when west-wind and sunshine warm
Chased out to sea
its
wrecks of storm.
They saw the prismy hues in thin

Where the green buds of waves
spray showers
burst into white
froth flowers.
And when along the line of shore

The mist crept upward chill and damp,
Stretched, careless, on their sandy floor
Beneath the
They
talked of
Read,
slept,
And
in the
Body and
flaring lantern
all
lamp.
things old and
and dreamed
as idlers
new.
do
unquestioned freedom of the tent.
o'er-taxed
mind
to healthful ease unbent.
12
Once, when the sunset splendors
died.
And, trampling up the sloping sand.

In lines outreaching far and wide,
The white-maned
Dim seen across the
billows swept to land,
gathering shade,
vast and ghostly cavalcade.
They
sat
around their lighted kerosene.
Hearing the deep bass roar
their every
pause be-
tween.
Then.) urged thereto, the Editor
Within
his full portfolio dipped.
Feigning excuse while searching for
(With
secret pride) his manuscript.
His pale face flushed from eye
to beard.
With nervous cough
he cleared,
And,
The
in a voice so
his throat
tremulous
it
betrayed
anxious fondness of an author's heart, he read

RivERMOUTH Rocks are fair to see,
By dawn or sunset shone across.
When the ebb of the sea has left them free

To dry their fringes of gold-green moss
comes winding down.

sea-meadows and uplands brown,
For there the
From
salt
river

And waves on
Shout to
And
"Welcome home "
waters,
its
fair are
afoam
the outer rocks
the sunny isles in view
East of the grisly
And Agamenticus
Head of
lifts its
the Boar,
blue
Disk of a cloud the woodlands
And
southerly,
when
the tide
is
o'er;
down,
'Twixt white sea-waves and sand-hills brown.
The
beach-birds dance and the gray gulls wheel
Over
Once,
a floor of burnished steel.
in the old
Two
A
Colonial days.
hundred years ago and more,
boat sailed
down through
Of Hampton
Full of a goodly
Sailing out
the winding
company
on the summer
sea,
Veering to catch the land-breeze
With
In
the Boar to left and the
light.
Rocks
to right.
Hampton meadows, where mowers

Their scythes
" Ah, well-a-day
ways
River to that low shore.
laid
swaths of salted grass,

"
our hay must be made
to the
!
A young man sighed, who saw them pass.

Loud laughed his fellows to see him stand
Whetting
his scythe
with a
listless
hand.
13
14
Hearing a voice
Watching
in a far-ofF song,
hand beckoning long.
a white
" Fie on the witch " cried a merry girl,

As they rounded the point where Goody Cole *
!
Sat by her door with her wheel atv/irl,
bent and blear-eyed poor old soul.
* The Goody Cole who
figures in this
Changel'mg was Eunice Cole,

tury or
more was
who
for a quarter of a cen-
feared, persecuted,
witch of Hampton.
poem and The
She lived alone
and hated
as the
in a hovel a litde
distant
from the spot where the Hampton Academy
stands,
and there she died, unattended.
was discovered, she was
When
covered up
hastily
in
now
her death
the earth
near by, and a stake driven through her body, to exorcise
Rev. Stephen Bachiler or Batchelder was
the evil spirit.
one of the ablest of the early
His marriage
church
late
in
life
as disreputable
to a
New
England preachers.
woman
regarded by his
induced him to return to England,
where he enjoyed the esteem and

well during the Protectorate.
favor of Oliver
Crom-
[When Goody Cole was
brought before the Quarter Sessions in 1680 to answer to

the charge of being a witch, the court could not find
factory evidence of witchcraft, but so strong
was
satis-
the feel-
ing against her that Major Waldron, the presiding magistrate,
ordered her to be imprisoned with a lock kept on
her leg
at the pleasure
one can read the

at large.]
fear
of the court.
and
In such judicial action
vindictive spirit of the
community
" Oho
J "
she muttered, "/^
^re
brave to-day/"**

"
Oho
But
'
The
For
hear the
little
're
brave to-day
waves laugh and
broth will be cold that waits
it 's
" She
I
" she muttered, " ye
'm scary always
Her wicked
And
say,
home
one to go, but another to come

cursed," said the skipper
's
at
15
"
'
" speak her
fair
to see her shake
head, with
its
wild gray hair.
nose like a hawk, and eyes like a snake."
But merrily
still,
with laugh and shout.
From Hampton River
the boat sailed out.
Till the huts and the flakes on Star seemed nigh,
And
they lost the scent of the pines of Rye.
They dropped
their lines in the lazy tide.
Drawing up haddock and mottled cod

They saw not the Shadow that walked beside.
;
They
heard not the feet with silence shod.
But thicker and thicker
a hot mist grew.
Shot by the lightnings through and through;
And
Ran
muffled growls, like the growl of a beast.
along the sky from west to east.
Then
the
skipper
looked
from
the
darkening
sea
Up
to the
dimmed and wading sun
But he spake
"Yet
there
like a
is
brave
man
cheerily,
time for our homeward run."
i6
Veering and tacking, they backward wore
And
The
The
"
As
from the woods ashore
just as a breath
Blew out
to whisper of danger past,
wrath of the storm came down

skipper hauled at the heavy
God
at last
sail
be our help " he only cried,

!
the roaring gale, like the stroke of a
Smote the boat on
The
its
Shoalsmen looked, but saw alone
Dark films of rain-cloud

Wild rocks lit up by the
The
flail,
starboard side.
strife
lightning's glare,
and torment of sea and
Goody Cole looked
The
slantwise blown.
Isles
air.
out from her door
of Shoals were drowned and gone,
Scarcely she saw the
Head of
the Boar
Toss the foam from tusks of
stone.
She clasped her hands with a grip of pain.
The
tear
" They
on her cheek was not of

are
crew
Lord, forgive
lost,"
she
rain
muttered,
" boat
me
my
words were true
"
!
Suddenly seaward swept the squall
The low sun smote through cloudy rack

The Shoals stood clear in the light, and all
The trend of the coast lay hard and black.
;

But
far
No
life
The
as eye could reach,
boat that went out at morning never
Sailed
and wide
was seen upon wave or beach
back again into Hampton River.
mower,
lean
Look from
on thy bended snath.
the
meadows green and low
The wind of the sea is a waft of death.

The waves are singing a song of woe
By silent river, by moaning sea,
Long and
vain shall thy watching be
Never again
shall the
Never the white hand
sweet voice
rise
and
Ye saw
in the light
faces looking
call,
fall
Rivermouth Rocks, how sad a
Dead
sight
of breaking day
up cold and white
From sand and seaweed where they lay.

The mad old witch-wife wailed and wept.
And cursed the tide as it backward crept
:
" Crawl back, crawl back, blue water-snake

Leave your dead for the hearts that break "
Solemn
it
was
in that old
day
Hampton town and its log-built

Where side by side the coffins lay
In
And
church,
the mourners stood in aisle and porch.
17
::
i8
In the singing-seats young eyes were dim,
The
And
voices faltered that raised the
Sobbed through
But
his prayer
and wept
in turn.
his ancient colleague did not pray
Under
He
hymn,
Father Dalton, grave and stern,
the wêight of his fourscore years
stood apart with the iron-gray
Of his
And
strong brows knitted to hide his tears
woman
a fair-faced
Linking her
own
of doubtful fame.
with his honored name,
Subtle as sin, at his side withstood
The
felt
reproach of her neighborhood.
Apart with them,
like
them
Old Goody Cole looked
forbid.
drearily round,
As, two by two, with their faces hid.
The mourners walked

"
to the burying-ground.
the staff from her clasped hands fall

"
Lord, forgive us we 're sinners all
She
let
And
the voice of the old
" Amen "

!
man answered
said Father Bachiler.
So, as I sat upon Appledore
summer day,
Hampton shore
In the calm of a closing
And
the broken
lines
of
In purple mist of cloudland
lay.
her

The Rivermouth Rocks their
And waves aglow with sunset
19
story told
gold,
Rising and breaking in steady chime,
Beat the rhythm and kept the time.
And the
With
sunset paled, and
warmed once more
a softer, tenderer after-glow
In the east was moon-rise, with boats ofF-shore
And sails in the distance drifting slow.

The beacon glimmered from Portsmouth bar,
The White Isle kindled its great red star
And life and death in my old-time lay
Mingled
in
peace like the night and day
"Well "
!
said the
Is really not
As
ill
Man
of Books, "your story
told in verse.
the Celt said of purgatory.
One might go farther and fare worse."

The Reader smiled and once again
;
With
steadier voice took
up
his strain.
While
the fair singer from the neighboring tent
Drew
near,
bent.
and
at
his
side
graceful
listener
20

Where
the Great Lake's sunny smiles
Dimple round
And
hundred
its
isles,
the mountain's granite ledge
Cleaves the water like a wedge,
Ringed about with smooth, gray stones.

Rest the giant's mighty bones.*
Close beside,
Laughs and
in
shade and gleam.
ripples
Melvin stream
Melvin water, mountain-born.

All fair flowers
its
banks adorn
All the woodland voices meet.
Mingling with
murmurs
its
sweet.
Over lowlands forest-grown.

Over waters island-strown.
Over silver-sanded beach.
Leaf-locked bay and misty reach,
Melvin stream and burial-heap,
Watch and ward

* At
into
the
mouth of
Moultonboro Bay
mound.
The
the mountains keep.
the Melvin River,

in
Ossipee Indians had their
neighborhood of the bay, which
with
fish,
found.
which empties
Lake Winnipesaukee,
and many
relics
is
is
home
plentifully
a great
in
the
stocked
of their occupation have been

Who
that
Titan cromlech
fills ?
Forest-kaiser, lord o' the hills
Knight who on the birchen

Carved
his savage heraldry
tree
pine-wood temples dim,
Priest o' the
Prophet, sage, or wizard grim
Rugged type of primal man.
Grim
utilitarian.
Loving woods
Lake and
for
hunt and prowl.
hill for fish
and fowl.
As
the
To
the grand and beautiful
brown bear
blind and dull
Not for him the lesson drawn

From the mountains smit with dawn.
Star-rise, moon-rise, flowers of May,
Sunset's purple
Took
his life
bloom of day,
no hue from thence.
Poor amid such affluence
Haply unto
hill
and tree
All too near akin was he
Unto him who
stands afar
Nature's marvels greatest are
Who
the mountain purple seeks
Must not climb
the higher peaks.
21

Yet who knows,
in
Or the midnight
What revealings
of the camp.
winter tramp,
faint
and
far.
down from moon and

in that human clod
Thought of destiny and God?
Stealing
star,
Kindled
Stateliest forest patriarch,
Grand
in robes
of skin and bark,
What
What
What
weird funeral-rites, were his
Now,
whate'er he
sepulchral mysteries.
?
sharp wail, what drear lament.

Back scared wolf and eagle sent ?
Low
On
he
his
There
lies as
mound
may have
other men
been.
the partridge drums.
the noisy blue-jay
comes
Rank nor name nor pomp
has he
In the grave's democracy.
Part thy blue
Moss-grown
Tell the
Thou,
tale,
lips,
Northern lake!
rocks, your silence break
thou ancient tree
too, slide-worn Ossipee
Speak, and
tell
Lived and died
how and when

this king of men
us

Wordless moans the ancient pine
Lake and mountain

Vain
give no sign
to trace this ring of stones
Vain the search of crumbling bones

Deepest of
And
all
mysteries,
the saddest, silence
is.
Nameless, noteless, clay with clay
Mingles slowly day by day
But somewhere,
That dark soul

Somewhere yet
Moves
for
is
good or
living
ill,
still
that atom's force
the light-poised universe.
Strange that on his burial-sod

Harebells bloom, and golden-rod,
While
the soul's dark horoscope
Holds no
Is the
starry sign of
Unseen with
hope
sight at odds
Nature's pity more than God's
Thus
While
mused by Melvin's
the
summer
side,
eventide
Made the woods and inland sea

And the mountains mystery
And the hush of earth and air
;
Seemed
the pause before a prayer,

Prayer for him, for
all
who
rest,
Mother Earth, upon thy breast,

Lapped on Christian turf, or hid
In rock-cave or pyramid
who sleep, as all who live.

Well may need the prayer, Forgive
All
'
!
Desert-smothered caravan.
Knee-deep dust
that
once was man,
Battle-trenches ghastly piled.
Ocean-floors with white bones
Crowded tomb and mounded
Dumbly
crave that prayer to God.
Oh, the generations old

Over whom no church-bells
Christless, lifting
To
tiled.
sod.
tolled,
up blind eyes
the silence of the skies
For the innumerable dead

Is
my
soul disquieted.
Where
Where
Where
To
be
now
these silent hosts
the spectral conscripts led
the white tents of the dead
What
the camping-ground of ghosts
strange shore or chartless sea
Holds the awful mystery
Deepest of all
And the
7nysfei'ies^
saddest, silence is

Then
warm
the
sky stooped to
make
Double sunset in the lake

While above I saw with it,
Range on range, the mountains
And
lit
the calm and splendor stole
Like an answer to
Hear'st thou,
What
What
of
to thee the
is
" Cast on
God
little faith.
mountain
saith,
if
thy sight be dim
them
for
thy care for these
" Blind must be
Where
soul.
whispered by the trees
Trust Him,
Doubt
my
is
doubt of Him.
their close-shut eyes
like night the sunshine lies,
Fiery-linked the self-forged chain
Binding ever
sin to pain.
Strong their prison-house of will,
But without
He
waiteth
still.
" Not with hatred's undertow
Doth
the
Love Eternal flow
Every chain that spirits wear
Crumbles
And
in the breath
of prayer;
the penitent's desire
Opens every
gate of
fire.

Still Thy love, O Christ arisen,
Yearns to reach these souls
Through
Drops the plummet of
Never
in prison
depths of sin and loss
all
cross
was found
yet abyss
Deeper than
Thy
that cross could
sound
"
!
Therefore well may Nature keep
Equal
faith
Set her
with
watch of
all
who
hills
sleep,
around
Christian grave and heathen
And
to cairn
mound,
and kirkyard send
Summer's flowery dividend.
Keep,
Thy
On
in
shade and gleam
the Indian's grassy
Swing,
Sweeps the
circle of
God's
love.
questioned with his eye

verdict
low voice asked
"
on
Is
't
his song.
well to pry
Into the secrets which belong
Is
to
still
God
bloom
as high above.
He paused and
The hearers'
Only
tomb
flowers, your bells of
Deep below,
Melvin stream.
pleasant
sweet laugh
The
life
to be
the unguessed mystery
27
Unsealed, unpierced the cloudy walls remain,
We
beat with
dream and wish the soundless doors
in vain.
" But
faith
He
beyond our sight may go."

" The gracious Fatherhood
said
Can only know
above, below,
Eternal purposes of good.
From our free heritage of will,

The bitter springs of pain and ill
Flow only in all worlds. The perfect day
Of God is shadowless, and love is love alway."
"
know," she
the letter kills
said,
That on our
arid fields of strife
And heat of clashing

The dew of spirit
But, searching
I fain
would
still
find,
texts distils
and of
Thus
voucher for the hope
That
sin
can give no
life.
the written
Word,
saith the
Lord,
also feel
wound beyond
love's
to heal."
" Pray,"
A
Go
said the
Man
theme too vast
of Books, " give o'er

for time
on. Sir Poet, ride once
Your hobby
and place.
more
at his old free pace.
power
28
But
The
let
him keep, with
solid earth
step discreet,
beneath his
feet.
In the great mystery which around us
The
wisest
is
a fool, the
fool
lies.
Heaven-helped
wise."
The
Traveller said
" If songs have
Their choice of them
let
singers
creeds.
make
But Art no other sanction needs
Than
It
Nor
It
beauty for
own
fair sake.
asks for leave, nor begs excuse
makes the
And
its
grinds not in the mill of use.
gives
its
" Confess,
Has
flexile
laws
atmosphere
it
deigns to own.
its
color and
old friend, your austere school
left
your fancy
little
chance
You square to reason's rigid rule

The flowing outlines of romance.
With conscience keen from exercise.
And chronic fear of compromise.
You check the free play of your rhymes,
tone.
its
moral underneath, and spring
it
to clap
like a trap."
The sweet voice answered: "Better so

Than bolder flights that know no check
Better to use the
The
bit,
reins all loose
than throw
on fancy's neck.
is
;;

The
The
29
range of Art should be
liberal
breadth of Christian liberty,
Restrained alone by challenge and alarm
Where
charmed footsteps
its
tread the border land
of harm.
" Beyond the
poet's sweet
dream
lives
The eternal epic of the man.

He wisest is who only gives,
True
to himself, the best he can
Who, drifting in the

The inward monitor
And, with the boldness
Takes
in the
crowded
winds of
obeys
praise.
that confesses fear.

sail,
and
his
lets
conscience
steer.
" Thanks
Nor
For the
As
for the fitting

less for
false
for the
For what
For
losses
is
word he speaks.
doubtful
model
word unspoken,
that he breaks.
moulded grace unbroken
missed and what remains.
which
are truest gains.
For reverence conscious of the Eternal eye.
And
truth too fair to need the garnish of a lie."
Laughing, the Critic bowed.
The
Who
point without another
"
I yield
word
ever yet a case appealed
Where
beauty's judgment had been heard
30
And
my
you,
good
As
me
to
for such a plea.
For
true withal as sweet.
Of cavil,
owe
friend,
Your warmest thanks
my
offence
her words be ample recompense.*'
let
Across the sea one lighthouse
With crimson
Revolving on
tower
its
star.
came and went,
ray that
afar.
Looked through the doorway of the

While outward, over sand-slopes wet,
The lamp
On
flashed
down
its
yellow
wash of waves, with
the long
tent.
jet
red and green
Tangles of weltering weed through the white foamwreaths seen.
" ' Sing while we may.
May
Our
another day
bring enough of sorrow;
Traveller in his
own
'
thus
sweet lay.
His Crimean camp-song, hints to us."
The
" So
it
be
Sing us a song," exclaimed
all
lady said.
She smiled
To hear our
"
let
can but marvel
poet's
words through
three.
at
your choice
my
poor borrowed
voice."
Her window opens
On
to the bay,
glistening light or misty gray,

And
dawn and
there at
set
of day
In prayer she kneels.

" Dear Lord " she saith, " to
!
From wind and wave

I
many
the wanderers
home
come ;
only see the tossing foam
Of stranger
" Blown out and
The
And
keels.
in
stately ships,
by summer gales,
with crowded
sails,
sailors leaning o'er their rails,
Before
They come,
me
glide
they go, but nevermore.
Spice-laden from the Indian shore,

I see his
swift-winged Isidore
The waves
"
Thou
And one
with
divide.
whom
the night
is
day
the near and far away.
Look out on yon gray waste, and

Where lingers he.
Alive, perchance, on
say
some lone beach
Or thirsty isle beyond the reach

Of man, he hears the mocking speech
Of wind and sea.
"
dread and cruel deep, reveal
The
secret which thy waves conceal,

And, ye wild sea-birds, hither wheel
And
tell
your
tale.
31
32
Let winds that tossed
my
message from
Some thought of me,
Or
his
lost
raven hair
one bear,
a last fond prayer
dying wail
" Come, with your
dreariest truth shut out
The fears that haunt me round about

O God I cannot bear this doubt
!
The
That
stifles
worst
is
breath.
better than the dread
Give me but leave

Asleep
Of
It
in the
garden trees.
might have been the sound of seas

rose and
fell
But, with her heart,
The
I
might have been the evening breeze
That
"
"
death
life in
That whispered
It
mourn my dead
to
and hope, instead
in trust
wait to meet thee
For
The
if
not her ear.
old loved voice she seemed to hear
all is
well
be of cheer.
"
sweet voice into silence went,

silence
As through
The
which was almost pain

it
rolled the long lament,
cadence of the mournful main.

Glancing
33
his written pages o'er,
The Reader
tried his part
once more;
Leaving the land of hackmatack and pine
For Tuscan valleys glad with
olive
and with vine.

PiERO LucA, known of
As
all
the
town
the gray porter by the Pitti wall
Where
noon shadows of
the
the gardens
Sick and in dolor, waited to lay
His
The
last
sad burden, and beside his
barefoot
Unseen,
monk
in square
of
La
Certosa
Val
Unheard, below the living shuttles

forth,
mat
sat.
and blossoming garden
Soft sunset lights through green
Backward and
and wove,
d'
at last
Tinkle of
The
sick
bell
man
the
monk
Of Mercy
sifted
in love or strife.
came upward from
life
the street
and tread of measured
feet.
started, strove to rise in vain.
Sinking back heavily with a
And
drifted,
Arno
shifted
In mirth or pain, the mottled web of
But when
fall,
down
said,
moan of
pain.
" 'T is but the Brotherhood
going on some errand good
Their black masks by the palace-wall

Piero answered faintly, " Woe is me
I
!
see."
34
This day
for the
time in forty years
first
In vain the bell hath sounded

Calling
me
my
with
Beggar and prince
alike, to
Hushed
ears,
some new
haply from
Of love or pity,
To bear a wretch
my
in
brethren of the mask,

task
the street
plague-stricken, or, with feet
and feverish brain.
to the quickened ear
To tread the crowded lazaretto's floors,

Down the long twilight of the corridors,
Midst tossing arms and faces
full
of pain.
work
own
reward.
I loved the
I
it
never counted on
was
it
My
sins,
To
the free grace and
which
But somehow,
are
to offset
many, or make
father,
should not
know
my
less
it
come
has
much
myself,
to be
me,
a part of
if
lacking
it.
But with the work the worker too would
And
in
my
place
Joyful or sad,
And now
some other
what
all 's
over.
debt
mercy of our Lord
In these long years so

I
its
self
matters,
Woe
if
would
not
is
me
die.
sit
?
"
" My
son,"
The monk said soothingly, " thy work is done

And no more as a servant, but the guest
Of God thou enterest thy eternal rest.
No
toil,
no
Shall
mar
Clad
in
tears,
no sorrow
thy perfect bliss.
for the lost,
Thou
shalt
sit
down
white robes, and wear a golden crown
"

Forever and forever."
35
Piero tossed
" Miserable
me
his sick-pillow
am too poor for such grand company
The crown would be too heavy for this gray
Old head and God forgive me if I say
On
It
would be hard
Like an image
With
these
to
hard
there night and day,
sit
in the
Tribune, doing naught
hands,
that
my
all
have
life
wrought.
Not
I
'm
for bread only, but for pity's sake.

dull at prayers
Counting
my
could not keep awake,
Mine
beads.
Scarce worth the saving,
but a crazy head.
's
if all else
be dead.
And if one goes to heaven without a heart,

God knows he leaves behind his better part.
the worst I know
I love my fellow-men
Will death change me
I would do good to.
:
so
That I shall sit among the lazy saints.

Turning a deaf ear to the sore complaints
Of souls
that suffer
Why,
never yet
Left a poor dog in the strada hard beset.
Or ass o'erladen
Than dog or ass,
Must
I rate
man
in holy selfishness
less
?
Methinks (Lord, pardon,
if
The
better, if therein
world of pain were
One's heart might
Of
still
natural pity drop
Some
cooling tears.
the thought be sin
be human, and desires
upon
its fires
!)
36
His
brow, and
"
lost
Thereat the pale monk crossed

muttering, " Madman
thou art
!
Took up his pyx and fled and, left

The sick man closed his eyes with a
That sank into a prayer, " Thy will
;
Then was
be done
"
!
pure and holy bending o'er him.
of a voice like that of her
who
Tender and most compassionate

For heaven
great groan
he made aware, by soul or ear.
Of somewhat
And
alone,
is
love, as
God
Thy work below shall be

And when he looked, lo
He saw the shining of an
!
bore him.
" Never fear
himself
thy
is
love
work above."
in the stern
monk's place
angel's face
The Traveller broke the pause.

The Brothers down the long
"
I 've
seen
street steal.
Black, silent, masked, the crowd between.
And
With
felt to
doff
hat and kneel
heart, if not with knee, in prayer.
For blessings on
The Reader
We
my
'11
their pious care."
wiped
his glasses
" Friends of mine.
try our home-brewed next, instead of foreign
wine."
THE CHANGELING
THE CHANGELING
For the fairest maid in Hampton
They needed not to search,
Who saw young Anna Favor
Come
Or
walking into church,
bringing from the meadows,
At
set
of harvest-day.
The frolic of the

The sweetness
Now
blackbirds.
of the hay.
the weariest of
The
saddest
She scowls
And
two
in the face
mothers.
of her husband.
spurns her child aside.
" Rake out the red

For there the
coals,
goodman,
child shall
Till the black witch
And
all
years' bride.
comes
both up chimney
lie.
to fetch her
fly.
my own little daughter,

It 's never my own," she said
" The witches have stolen my Anna,
"
It 's
never
And
left
me
an imp instead.
38
" Oh,
and sweet was
fair
my
baby,
Blue eyes, and hair of gold
But
this
ugly and wrinkled.
is
Cross, and cunning, and old.
"
hate the touch of her fingers,
hate the feel of her skin
my
But
" My
Rake
blood, that she sucks in.
my
arms arc skin and bone
open the red coals,
And
'11
bosom.
grows sharp with the torment
face
Look
" She
my
not the milk from
It 's
goodman,
own.
the witch shall have her
come when
she hears
it
crying.
In the shape of an owl or bat.
And
she
'11
Anna
bring us our darling
In place of her screeching brat."
Then
the goodman, Ezra Dalton,
Laid
"
Thy
I
"
his
hand upon her head
sorrow
is
great,
woman
sorrow with thee," he
The paths to
And never
trouble are
My
many.
but one sure
Leads out to the

poor wife,
light
let
said.
way
beyond
us pray."
it
"
Lead her out of this evil shadow^

Out of these fancies wild""
THE CHANGELING
Then
"
he said to the great All-Father,
Thy
Let her
daughter
sight
weak and
come back, and
Once more
this evil
blind
clothe her
mind.
in her right
" Lead her out of
Out
is
shadow.
of these fancies wild
Let the holy love of the mother
Turn
again to her child.
" Make her
lips like
the lips of
Mary
Kissing her blessed Son
Let her hands,

Rest on her
" Comfort
like the
little
hands of Jesus,
one.
the soul of thy handmaid,
Open her prison-door.

And thine shall be all the glory
And praise forevermore."
Then into the face of its mother
The baby looked up and smiled
And the cloud of her soul was lifted,
And she knew her little child.
beam of
Made
the slant west sunshine
the
wan
face almost
Lit the blue eyes' patient
And
fair.
wonder
the rings of pale gold hair.

She kissed
on
it
She kissed
And
bosom
the lips so pale and thin.
on her
fair
Was
But
and forehead,
she bared her snow-white
To
Oh,
lip
on cheek and chin,
it
fairer to
Looked
morning
bridal
who
the maid
blushed and smiled,
Ezra Dalton
the mother of his child.
With more
than a lover's fondness
He stooped to her worn young face.

And the nursing child and the mother
He folded in one embrace.
" Blessed be God " he murmured.
" Blessed be God " she said
!
" For
I live,
"
who once was blinded,

who once was dead.
I see,
Now
mount and
As thou lovest
Woe 's
Be
me,
if
ride,
thy
my
the death of
my goodman.
own
soul
wicked fancies
Goody Cole "

!
His horse he saddled and bridled.
And
into the night rode he.
Now through the great black woodland.

Now by the white-beached sea.
; ;
THE CHANGELING
41
He rode through the silent clearings,

He came to the ferry wide,
And thrice he called to the boatman
Asleep on the other
side.
He set his horse to the river.

He swam to Newbury town.
And
he called up Justice Sewall
In his nightcap and his gown.
And
the grave and worshipful justice
(Upon whose soul be peace!)

Set his name to the jailer's warrant
For Goodwife Cole's
Then
release.
through the night the hoof-beats
Went
sounding
like a
flail
And Goody Cole at cockcrow

Came forth from Ipswich jail.
" Here
To
What
is
rhyme
venture on
hardly dare
theme worn out
seems so sweet by
Sounds simply
And
its
silly
Doon
pipes by lips Arcadian
Are only tin horns

Yet still the muse of
While Hosea Biglow
at
and Ayr
hereabout
blown
our own.
pastoral walks with us,

sings,
our
new Theocritus."
42
THE MAIDS OF ATTITASH *

In sky and wave the white clouds swam,
And
the blue hills of Nottingham
Through gaps of
leafy green
Across the lake were seen,
When,
shadow of the ash
in the
That dreams
In the
Two
dream
its
in Attitash,
warm summer
maidens
weather.
sat together.
They sat and watched in idle mood

The gleam and shade of lake and wood
The beach the keen light smote.
The white sail of a boat
Swan
flocks of
lilies
In sweetness, not
*
is
Attitash, an Indian
the
name of a
part of
wrote
large
Amesbury.
**
and
ash trees."]
show
huckleberry,'*
lake in the northern
Mr.
Fields, Whittier
thee Attitash, as
Mary's Lake which Wordsworth
fact a great deal prettier.
fine,
signifying
beautiful
[In a letter to
away range of mountains

very
shoreward lying.
music, dying
word
and
should like to
pretty as St.
in
it
The
in
it
is
as
sings, in
glimpse of the Pawtuck-
Nottingham seen across
it is
has noble groves of pines and maples and
In the shadow of the ash

Hardback, and virgin's-bower,
And
wbite-spiked cletbra-flower.
Witb careless ears tbey beard tbe

And breezy wasb of Attitasb,
Tbe
Tbe
plash
wood-bird's plaintive cry,

locust's sbarp reply.
And teased tbe wbile, witb playful band,

Tbe sbaggy dog of Newfoundland,
Wbose uncoutb frolic spilled
Tbeir baskets
Tben
Was
berry-filled.
one, tbe beauty of wbose eyes
evermore a great surprise.
Tossed back ber queenly bead.
And
"
No
ligbtly laugbing, said
bridegroom's band be mine to bold
Tbat
is
not lined witb yellow gold
I tread
I
"
My
no cottage-floor;
own no
lover poor.
love must come on silken wings,

Witb bridal ligbts of diamond rings.
Not foul witb kitcben smircb,
Witb tallow-dip for torcb."

The
other,
on whose modest head
Was
lesser
dower of beauty shed,
With look for home-hearths

And voice exceeding sweet.
Answered, "
We
meet,
will not rivals be
Take thou the gold, leave love

Mine be the cottage small,
And
"
to
me
thine the rich man's hall.
know, indeed,
that wealth
is
good
But lowly roof and simple food,
With
love that hath no doubt.
Are more than gold without."
Hard by
a farmer hale
His cradle
Tracking the yellow
With windrows
And
still,
and young
in the rye-field
swung.
plain
of ripe grain.
whene'er he paused to whet
His scythe, the sidelong glance he met
Of large
dark eyes, where strove
False pride and secret love.
Be strong, young mower of the grain;

That love shall overmatch disdain.
Its instincts
The
soon or
late
heart shall vindicate.

In blouse of gray, with fishing-rod,
Half screened by
The
leaves, a stranger trod
margin of the pond,
Watching
The supreme
the group beyond.
come
doom
hours unnoted
Unfelt the turning tides of
And so the maids laughed on.

Nor dreamed what Fate had done,
Nor knew
That
the step
was Destiny's
rustled in the birchen trees,
As, with their

Fisher and
lives forecast.
mower
passed.
Erelong by lake and rivulet
side
The summer roses paled and died.

And Autumn's fingers shed
The maple's leaves of red.
Through
the long gold-hazed afternoon,
Alone, but for the diving loon.
The
The
partridge in the brake,
black duck on the lake.
Beneath the shadow of the ash
man and maid by Attitash

And earth and air made room
For human hearts to bloom.
Sat
46
Soft spread the carpets of the sod,
And scarlet-oak
With blushes
and golden-rod
and with smiles
Lit up the forest
The mellow
The pebbled
aisles.
light the lake aslant,
margin's ripple-chant
Attempered and low-toned.
The
And
tender mystery owned.
through the dream the lovers dreamed
Sweet sounds
The
The
stole in
and
soft lights
streamed
sunshine seemed to bless,

air
was
a caress.
Not she who lightly laughed is there,

With scornful toss of midnight hair,
Her dark, disdainful eyes,
And
proud
worldly-wise.
lip
Her haughty vow

But
all
unsaid.
she dreamed and coveted
Wears, half
The
is still
to her surprise.
youthful farmer's guise
With more
than
She walks the
all
her old-time pride
rye-field at his side.
Careless of cot or hall.
Since love transfigures
all.
47
Rich beyond dreams, the vantage-ground
Of life
The
is
gained
her hands have found
talisman of old
That changes
all
to gold.
While she who could

With all its glittering
And
for love dispense
accidents,
trust her heart alone,
Finds love and gold her own.
What
wealth can buy or
Awaits her
but her cup
can build
art
is filled
Even now unto the brim

Her world is love and him
;
The
while he heard, the
Book-man drew
length of make-believing face.
With smothered
''Why, you
And, with
On
his
Yankee
mischief laughing through
shall sit in
Ramsay's
place,
Gentle Shepherd, keep
hills
immortal sheep.
While love-lorn swains and maids the seas beyond

Hold dreamy tryst around your huckleberry-pond."
The
Traveller laughed
"
Sir
Galahad
Singing of love the Trouvere's lay
48
How
should he
From one
know
the blindfold lad
of Vulcan's forge-boys
"
He better sees who stands outside

Than they who in procession ride,"
The Reader answered " selectmen and
:
show
they make, the
Miss, while
" Nay,
squire
that
wayside
folks admire.
" Here
a wild tale of the North,
is
Our
travelled friend will
own
as
one
Norland Christmas hearth
Fit for a
And lips of Christian Andersen.

They tell it in the valleys green
Of the fair island he has seen.

Low lying ofF the pleasant Swedish
Washed by
shore.
the Baltic Sea, and watched by Elsi-
nore."
KALLUNDBORG CHURCH
"Tie
stille,
barn min
Imorgen kommer Fin,

Fa'er din,
Og
gi'er dig
Esbern Snares oine og hjerte
at lege
med "
!
Zealand Rhyme.
" Build
Kallundborg by the sea
at
church may be,

wed my daughter fair,"
Lord of Nesvek to Esbern Snare.
church
And
as stately as
there shalt thou
Said the
"
KALLUNDBORG CHURCH
And
And
To
soul, I will
Helva wed
ofFhe strode,
in his pride
of will,
I lose
the Troll
" Build,
who
dwelt in Ulshoi
Troll, a church for
At Kallundborg by
me
the mighty sea
and build
it
stately,
Build
it
quickly," said Esbern Snare.
But the
sly
Dwarf
What
"
said,
Trolls of the Hills,
it
fair.
No
"
!
hill.
Build
By
said,
my
" Though
'
But Esbern
the Baron laughed.
work
man,
is
wrought
for naught.
wilt thou give for thy church so fair
" Set thy own price," quoth Esbern Snare.
"
When
Kallundborg church
Thou must the name

Or thy heart and thy
" Build,"
By
said
of
its
is
builded well,
builder
eyes must be
Esbern, " and build
it
tell.
my
boon."
soon."
night and by day the Troll wrought on
He hewed
the timbers, he piled the stone
But day by day,
as the walls rose fair,
Darker and sadder grew Esbern Snare.
He
He
listened
by night, he watched by day.
sought and thought, but he dared not pray
In vain he called on the Elle-maids shy.
And
the
Neck and
the Nis gave
no
reply.
;;
50
Of his evil bargain far and wide

A rumor ran through the country-side
And Helva
of Nesvek, young and
fair,
Prayed for the soul of Esbern Snare.
And now the church was wellnigh done

One pillar it lacked, and one alone
And the grim Troll muttered, " Fool thou art
To-morrow gives me thy eyes and heart "
!
By Kallundborg
in black despair.
Through wood and meadow, walked Esbern Snare,

Till, worn and weary, the strong man sank
Under the birches on Ulshoi bank.
At
his last day's
Hammer
work he heard
and delve
the Troll
in the quarry's hole
Before him the church stood large and
"
have builded
And
my
tomb,"
said
fair
Esbern Snare.
he closed his eyes the sight to hide.
When
he heard a light step at his side

Esbern Snare " a sweet voice said,
" Would I might die now in thy stead "
"
With
He
a grasp by love and by fear
made
held her fast, and he held her long
With
the beating heart of a bird afeard.
She hid her face
in his flame-red beard.
strong.
Now
the church
was wellnigh done
KALLUNDBORG CHURCH
"
love
" he cried, "
let
me
51
look to-day
In thine eyes ere mine are plucked away
me
Let
hold thee close,
Ere mine by the Troll

"
I sinned,
let
is
thy heart
feel
Helva, for love of thee
"
Pray that the Lord Christ pardon
me
But
still.
fast as she
Hammered
He knew,
prayed, and faster
the Troll in Ulshoi
as
he wrought, that a loving heart

baffling his evil art
For more than
spell
of Elf or Troll
maiden's prayer for her lover's soul.
And Esbern
Of a
listened,
and caught the sound
Troll-wife singing underground:
" To-morrow comes Fine,

Lie
" Lie
still
still,
my
ho
Thanks
The
To
darling
play with
eyes
!
father thine
and hush thee, baby mine
Thou 'It
Ho
hill.
Was somehow
Is a
"
me
torn apart
next sunrise
Esbern
Snare's
heart
and
"
!
"
quoth Esbern, "
to the Troll-wife, I
is
that
know
your game ?
"
his
name
Troll he heard him, and hurried on
Kallundborg church with the lacking stone.
52
" Too
And
GafFer Fine
late,
Troll and
That night
air
sobbing underground,
the voice of the Hill-Troll loud with blame
Of the
Of
vanished in
the harvesters heard the sound
Of a woman
And
pillar
" cried Esbern Snare
careless singer
the
who
Troll of the
name.
told his
Church they
sing
the
rune
By
the Northern Sea in the harvest
And
the fishers of Zealand hear
Scolding his wife in Ulshoi
And
Still
seaward over
its
moon
him
still
hill.
groves of birch
looks the tower of Kallundborg church.
Where,
first at its altar,
wedded
pair.
Stood Helva of Nesvek and Esbern Snare
" What," asked the Traveller, " would

sires.
The
Of
old Norse story-tellers, say
sun-graved pictures, ocean wires.
And smoking steamboats of to-day

And this, O lady, by your leave.
Recalls your song of yester eve:
our
THE CABLE HYMN

Pray,
let
53
us have that Cable-hymn once more."
Hear, hear " the Book-man cried, " the lady

!
has the floor.
" These noisy waves below perhaps
To
With
such a strain will lend their ear.

softer voice
and lighter lapse
Come stealing up the sands to hear,

And what they once refused to do
For old King Knut accord
Nay, even the
As
fishes shall
to you.
your
listeners be.
once, the legend runs, they heard
St.
Anthony."
THE CABLE HYMN
LONELY bay of Trinity,
dreary shores, give ear
Lean down unto
The
voice of
From world
the white-lipped sea
God
to hear
His couriers
fly.
Thought-winged and shod with
fire
The
to world
angel of His stormy sky
Rides
down
the sunken wire.
What saith the herald

" The world's long
of the Lord
strife is
done
54

Close wedded by that mystic cord,
Its
continents are one.
" And one

Shall
The
in heart, as
all
one
in blood.
her peoples be
hands of human brotherhood
Are clasped beneath

" Through Orient
the sea.
seas, o'er Afric's plain
And Asian mountains borne,

The vigor of the Northern brain
Shall nerve the world
"From
outworn
clime to clime, from shore to shore,
Shall thrill the magic thread
The new Prometheus steals once more

The fire that wakes the dead."
Throb on, strong pulse of thunder
From answering beach to beach
Fuse nations
And
Wild
in thy kindly heat,
melt the chains of each
terror of the sky above.
Glide tamed and
dumb below
Bear gently. Ocean's carrier-dove.
Thy
errands to and fro.
beat
THE CABLE HYMN

Weave
55
on, swift shuttle of the Lord,
Beneath the deep so
far,
The bridal robe of earth's accord,

The funeral shroud of war
!
For
lo
the
fall
of Ocean's wall
Space mocked and time outrun;
And
round the world the thought of
Is as the
thought of one
The poles unite, the zones

The tongues of striving
As on
The
Christ
The Reader
is
little
Its old
And
The
agree.
cease;
whispering. Peace
to this at last,"
said,
"
shall all things
Forgotten be the bugle's
And
the Sea of Galilee
" Glad prophecy
all
come.
blast.
battle-music of the drum.
while the world
may run
mad way, with needle-gun
ironclad, but truth, at last, shall reign
cradle-song of Christ was never sung in vain
Shifting his scattered papers,
He
" Here,"
said, as died the faint applause,
"
!
56
"
Is
something that
Down
I
had
Who,
(As
if
it
on the
from a
found
island
as Orr's.
fair-haired girl
oddly, bore the
by some
year
last
known
name of
Pearl,
droll freak of circumstance,)
Classic, or wellnigh so, in Harriet Stowe's romance."
THE DEAD
What
HARPSWELL
SHIP OF
beyond
flecks the outer gray
The sundown's golden trail

The white flash of a sea-bird's
Or gleam of slanting sail
wing.
Let young eyes watch from Neck and Point,
And sea-worn elders pray,

The ghost of what was once
Is sailing
up the bay
a ship
From gray sea-fog, from icy drift.

From peril and from pain.
The home-bound fisher greets thy
lights,
hundred-harbored Maine
But many a keel
And many a
When, tall and
shall
sail
seaward turn.
outstand.
white, the
Dead Ship looms
Against the dusk of land.
The ghost ofzuhat was once a
ship
THE DEAD
OF HARPSWELL
SHIP
She rounds the headland's
She threads the
No
isle-set
bristling pines
bay
spur of breeze can speed her on,
Nor ebb of tide delay.

Old men still walk the Isle
Who
Old
tell
shipwrights
Who
of Orr
her date and name,

sit
in
Freeport yards
hewed her oaken frame.
What weary doom of baffled quest.

Thou sad sea-ghost, is thine
What makes thee in the haunts of home
?
A
No
wonder and
foot
Upon
No
is
on thy
a sign
silent deck.
thy helm no hand
That
Howe'er
when
She
No
the breeze
to port,
may
be
she nears the waiting shore
drifts again to sea.
tack of
Nor
wind
smites thee from the land
For never comes the ship

Just
ripple hath the soundless
sail,
nor turn of helm.
sheer of veering side
Stern-fore she drives to sea and night.
Against the wind and
In vain o'er Harpswell
Of evening
tide.
Neck
guides her in
the star

In vain for her the lamps are
Within thy tower, Seguin
lit
In vain the harbor-boat shall
hail,
In vain the pilot call;
No
hand
Or
let
shall reef her spectral sail,
her anchor
fall.
Shake, brown old wives, with dreary joy.
Your gray-head
hints of
ill
And, over sick-beds whispering low.
Your prophecies fulfil.

Some home amid yon birchen trees
Shall drape its door with woe
And slowly where the Dead Ship sails.
The
burial boat shall
row
From Wolf Neck and from Flying Point

From island and from main,
From sheltered cove and tided creek.
Shall glide the funeral train.
The dead-boat with the bearers four,

The mourners at her stern,
And one shall go the silent way
Who
shall
no more return
And men shall sigh, and women weep.

Whose dear ones pale and pine.
And sadly over sunset seas
Await the ghostly
sign.
THE PALATINE
They know not that its sails are
By pity's tender breath,
Nor see the Angel at the helm
Who
" Chill
as a
59
filled
Death
steers the Ship of
down-east breeze should be,"
The Book-man said. " A ghostly

The legend has. I'm glad to see
touch
Your flying Yankee beat the Dutch."

"Well, here is something of the sort
Which one midsummer day I caught
In Narragansett Bay, for lack of fish."
"
We
wait," the Traveller said
" serve hot or cold
your dish."
THE PALATINE*
Leagues
north, as
fly
the gull and auk.
hawk
beacon flames, Montauk
Point Judith watches with eye of
Leagues south, thy
* Block
Island in
dians Manisees, the

a tragic incident a
Long
isle
Island Sound, called
of the
little
by the In-
god, was the scene of
hundred years or more ago, when The
Palatine, an emigrant ship
bound
for Philadelphia, driven
6o
Lonely and wind-shorn, wood-forsaken,
With
For
never a tree for Spring to waken.

of lovers or farewells taken,
tryst
Circled by waters that never freeze,
Beaten by billow and swept by breeze,

Lieth the island of Manisees,
mouth of
Set at the
The
coast lights
the
up on
Sound
its
to hold
turret old.
Yellow with moss and sea-fog mould.

Dreary the land when gust and
At
And Winter
But
in
Held
its
laughs at
summer
time,
in the laps
Are blue
off
sleet
doors and windows howl and beat.
its
course,
its fires
when
of peat
pool and pond,
of valleys fond,
as the glimpses of sea
came upon the
coast at
beyond
this
point.
mutiny on board, followed by an inhuman desertion on

the part of the crew, had brought the
to the verge of starvation
that wreckers
on shore,
after
rescuing
survivors, set fire to the vessel,

sea before a gale
month, according
ship
on
unhappy passengers
and madness.
all
which was driven out
which had sprung up.

to the
fire is visible to
same
Tradition says
but one of the
to
Every twelve-
tradition, the spectacle of a
the inhabitants of the island.
THE PALATINE
When
And,
6i
the hills are sweet with the brier-rose,
hid in the
warm,
soft dells,
unclose
Flowers the mainland rarely knows
When
boats to their morning fishing go.
And, held
to the
wind and slanting low.
Whitening and darkening the small
Then is that
And the pale
The wine of
No
On
No
sails
show,
lonely island fair
health-seeker findeth there

life in its
pleasant
air.
greener valleys the sun invite.
smoother beaches no sea-birds
light.
blue waves shatter to foam more white!
There, circling ever
Quaint
tradition
narrow range,
their
and legend strange
Live on unchallenged, and
Old wives spinning
Or
their
know no
change.
webs of tow.
rocking weirdly to and fro
In and out of the peat's dull glow,
And
old men mending their nets of twine,

Talk together of dream and sign.
Talk of the lost ship Palatine,
62
The
ship that, a hundred years before,
Freighted deep with
goodly store.
its
went ashore.
In the gales of the equinox
The
eager islanders one by one
Counted the shots of her
And
heard the crash
signal gun,
when
she drove right on
Into the teeth of death she sped
(May God
The
over the rocky Head
brothers
White upturned
Where waves
Down
forgive the hands that fed
false lights
men and
faces,
had
what
sights
!)
were there
hands stretched
pity,
could ye not spare
swooped the wreckers,
And
the dead had never a
like birds
And
then, with ghastly
word
of prey
to say.
shimmer and shine
Over the rocks and the seething brine.

They burned the wreck of the Palatine.
In their cruel hearts, as they
The
sea and the rocks are
" There
'11
in prayer
Tearing the heart of the ship away.
"
homeward
dumb," they
sped,
said
be no reckoning with the dead."
They burned the wreck of the Palatiiie
THE PALATINE
63
But the year went round, and when once more

their foam-white curves of shore
Along
They
heard the line-storm rave and roar,
Behold
Over
The
again, with
shine,
flaming wreck of the Palatine
So, haply in
Mending
They
"
shimmer and
the rocks and the seething brine,
fitter
words than
on
their nets
tell
these.
their patient knees,
the legend of Manisees.
Nor
looks nor tones a doubt betray
It is
known
We
Is there, then,
Do
Do
On
it
in
for a
word once spoken
left its
tables never
token
broken
the elements subtle reflections give

pictures of
all
our day."
no death
never a deed but
Written on
to us all," they quietly say
too have seen
Was
the ages live
Nature's infinite negative,
Which,
half in sport, in malice half,
She shows
at times,
with shudder or laugh,
Phantom and shadow
in
photograph
64
For
still,
on many a moonless night,
From Kingston Head and from Montauk

The spectre kindles and burns in sight.
Now
low and dim, now clear and higher,
Leaps up the
terrible
Then, slowly
sinking, the flames expire.
And
the wise
Reef
Sound
their sails
Of the
"
Ghost of
Fire,
skippers, though skies be fine.
when
they see the sign
blazing wreck of the Palatine
fitter tale to
scream than sing,"
The Book-man said. " Well, fancy,

The Reader answered, " on the wing
The sea-birds shriek it, not for men.
But
in the ear
The
of wave and breeze
Traveller mused
Is fairy-land
Who
is
isle
Brandan's in
Or
"
No
"
!
" Your Manisees
or heard
its
name
before
some strange land of Flyaway,
Whose dreamy
St.
then,"
off Narragansett shore
ever saw the
" 'T
light
shore the ship beguiles,
its
sea-mist gray.
sunset loom of Fortunate Isles
ghost, but solid turf and rock
"
!
ABRAHAM DAVENPORT
Is the
good island known
The Reader
I
chose
" But
as Block,'*
" For beauty and
said.
65
for ease
Indian name, soft-flowing Manisees
its
let it
pass
here
is
a bit
Of unrhymed story, with a hint

Of the old preaching mood in it,
The sort of sidelong moral squint
Our friend objects to, which has grown,
I fear, a habit of my own.
'T was
And
written
when
the land held
the Asian plague drew near.
breath and paled with sudden
its
fear."
ABRAHAM DAVENPORT*
In the old days
With
Their wisest men
And
custom
(a
laid aside
breeches and cocked hats) the people sent
so,
to
make
the public laws.
from a brown homestead, where the Sound
Drinks the small tribute of the Mianas,
* The famous Dark Day of New England, May

1780, was a physical puzzle for many years to our
cestors, but
philosophical
its
an-
occurrence brought something more than
speculation
passed through
19,
it.
into
The
Davenport's sturdy protest
the
minds of those
incident of Colonel
is
who
Abraham
a matter of history.

66
Waved over by the woods of Rippowams,

And hallowed by pure lives and tranquil deaths,
Stamford sent up to the councils of the State
Wisdom and
grace in
Abraham Davenport.
'T was on a May-day of
the far old year
Seventeen hundred eighty, that there
Over
Over
the
bloom and sweet
fell
of the Spring,
life
the fresh earth and the heaven of noon,
horror of great darkness, like the night
In day of which the Norland sagas
The
Was
Twilight of the Gods.
tell,
The low-hung
sky
black with ominous clouds, save where
its
rim
Was
fringed
with a dull glow, like that which
climbs
The
crater's sides
from the red
Birds ceased to sing, and
Roosted
all
below.
hell
the barn-yard fowls
the cattle at the pasture bars
Lowed, and looked homeward
bats
on leathern
wings
Flitted abroad
the sounds of labor died
Men prayed, and women wept

To hear the doom-blast of the
all
The
As
grew sharp
trumpet shatter
black sky, that the dreadful face of Christ
Might look from the
ears
rent clouds, not as
loving guest at Bethany, but stern

Justice and inexorable
Law.
He
looked
; ;
ABRAHAM DAVENPORT
67
House, dim
as ghosts,
Meanwhile
in the old State
Sat the lawgivers of Connecticut,
Trembling beneath their legislative robes.

" It is the Lord's Great Day
Let us adjourn,"
!
Some
said
and then,
one accord,
as if with
Abraham Davenport.
All eyes were turned to
He rose, slow cleaving with his steady voice

The intolerable hush. " This well may be
The Day of Judgment which the world awaits
But be
it
so or not, I only
My
present duty, and
To
occupy
Where He
I
till
He
my
come.
hath set
me
in
choose, for one, to meet
No
know
Lord's
So
command
at the post
His providence,
Him
face to face,
my
task.
But ready when the Lord of the harvest
calls
faithless servant frightened
And
therefore, with all reverence, I
God
Let
from
Bring
do His work,
in
the
we
candles."
would
say.
will see to ours.
And
they brought them
in.
Then by
the flaring lights the Speaker read,
Albeit with husky voice and shaking hands.
An
act to
The
amend an
act to regulate
shad and alewive
fisheries.
Whereupon
Wisely and well spoke Abraham Davenport,

Straight to the question, with
no
figures of speech
Save the ten Arab signs, yet not without
68
The
shrewd dry humor natural
to the
His awe-struck colleagues listening
Between the pauses of
To
his
all
man
the while,
argument,
God
hear the thunder of the wrath of
Break from the hollow trumpet of the cloud.
And
memory
there he stands in
to this day,
Erect, self-poised, a rugged face, half seen
Against the background of unnatural dark,
witness to the ages as they pass.
That simple duty hath no
He
ceased
To
lift
just then the ocean
a half-faced
And, shoreward,
From
Such
The
When
place for fear.
moon
seemed
in sight
o'er the waters gleamed.
crest to crest, a line of light.
as of old, with
fishers
solemn awe.
by Gennesaret saw.
dry-shod o'er
it
walked the Son of God,
Tracking the waves with
light
where'er his sandals
trod.
Silently for a space each eye
Upon
that
sudden glory turned
Cool from the land the breeze blew by.
The
tent-ropes flapped, the long beach churned
Let God do His work, we will
see to
ours "

Its
waves
to
foam
69
on either hand
Stretched, far as sight, the hills of sand
With bays of marsh, and capes of bush and tree,

The wood's black shore-line loomed beyond the
meadowy sea.
The lady rose

Or hymn,"
And she, with
to leave.
lips to
Sweet intuitions of
Gave
to the
"
One
song,
they urged, " before
we
part."
which belong
all art.
winds of night a
strain
Which they who heard would hear again

And to her voice the solemn ocean lent.
Touching
its
harp of sand, a deep
accompani-
ment.

The
harp
at
Has never
The
song the
Has never
Nature's advent strung

ceased to play
stars
of morning sung
died away.
And prayer is made, and praise is

By all things near and far;
The ocean looketh up to heaven.
And mirrors every star.
given.
; ;

Its
waves are kneeling on the strand,
As
kneels the
human
knee,
Their white locks bowing to the sand,
The
priesthood of the sea
They pour
Their
The
their glittering treasures forth.
gifts
And all the

Take up
of pearl they bring.
listening hills of earth
the song they sing.
green earth sends her incense up
From many a mountain shrine

From folded leaf and dewy cup
She pours her sacred wine.
The
mists above the morning
rills
Rise white as wings of prayer
The
altar-curtains of the hills
Are
sunset's purple air.
The winds with hymns of praise

Or low with sobs of pain,
The thunder-organ of the cloud.
The dropping tears of rain.
are loud,
With drooping head and branches
The twilight
Or speaks with
From
crossed
forest grieves,
tongues of Pentecost
all its sunlit leaves.

The
blue sky
the temple's arch,
is
Its transept earth
and
air,
The music of its starry march

The chorus of a prayer.
So Nature keeps the reverent frame
With which
her years began.
And all her signs and voices shame

The prayerless heart of man.
The
The moon's
singer ceased.
Fell on the rapt,
" Allah
il
From
Allah
all
hath praise
things," said the Traveller.
" Oft from the
desert's silent nights,
And mountain hymns
My
face of her.
still
He
white rays
of sunset
lights.
heart has felt rebuke, as in his tent
The Moslem's
prayer has shamed
my
Christian
knee unbent."
He paused, and lo far, faint, and slow

The bells in Newbury's steeples tolled
The twelve dead hours the lamp burned
The singer sought her canvas fold.
One sadly said, " At break of day
!
We
strike
We
our tent and go our way."
But one made answer

'11
low
cheerily,
" Never
fear.
pitch this tent of ours in type another year."
THE EXILES
The
lad
incidents
has
of
first
white
Macy is
Pike's
upon which the following
bal-
foundation occurred about the year
Thomas Macy was one
1660.
the
its
settler
of the
of Nantucket.
first, if
The
briefly but carefully outlined in
The New Puritan,
not
career
James
S.
THE EXILES
THEOnegoodman
sat beside his door,
sultry afternoon,
With
young wife singing
his
An
at his side
old and goodly tune.
glimmer of heat was
in the air,
The dark green woods were still

And the skirts of a heavy thunder-cloud
Hung over the western hill.
Black, thick, and vast arose that cloud
Above the wilderness,

As some dark world from upper
Were
At times
And
stooping over
the solemn thunder pealed,
all
Save a low
was
still
murmur
Of coming wind
Just as the
air
this.
first
again,
in the air
and
rain.
big rain-drop
fell,
weary stranger came.
And stood before the farmer's door,

With travel soiled and lame.
THE
76
EXILES
Sad seemed he, yet sustaining hope
Was
And
in his quiet glance,
peace, like autumn's moonlight, clothed
His tranquil countenance,
look, like that his Master
wore
In Pilate's council-hall
of wrongs, but of a love
It told
Meekly
" Friend
The
forgiving
wilt thou give
life is
hunted,
Are following
The
oaken
his
The goodman's
My
me
shelter here
stranger meekly said
And, leaning on
"
all.
staff,
features read.
evil
my
in
men
track;
traces of the torturer's
whip
Are on my aged back

" And much,
I fear,
't
Within thy doors
hunted seeker of the Truth,
Oppressed
Oh,
"
"
will peril thee
to take
We
for conscience' sake.'*
kindly spoke the goodman's wife,
Come
in, old
man
" quoth she,
will not leave thee to the storm.
Whoever
thou mayst be."
"
?
THE
EXILES
Then came the aged wanderer

And silent sat him down
77
in,
While
all
within grew dark as night
Beneath the storm-cloud's frown.
But while the sudden
lightning's blaze
Filled every cottage nook,
And with the jarring thunder-roll

The loosened casements shook,
heavy tramp of horses'
feet
Came sounding up the lane.

And half a score of horse, or more.
Came plunging through the rain.
" Now, Goodman Macy, ope thy door.
We would not be house-breakers
rueful deed thou
'st
done
this day.
In harboring banished Quakers."
Out looked the cautious goodman

With much of fear and awe.
For
there, with broad
The
then.
wig drenched with
parish priest he saw.
" Open thy door, thou wicked man.
And let thy

And give God
pastor in.
thanks,
Repay thy deadly
if forty stripes
sin."
rain.
THE
78
EXILES
" What seek ye ? " quoth the goodman

" The stranger is my guest
He
is
worn with
Pray
let
the old
" Now, out upon
And
toil
and grievous wrong,
man
rest."
knave
thee, canting
"
!
strong hands shook the door.
" Believe me, Macy," quoth the priest,

" Thou 'It rue thy conduct sore."
Then
"
kindled Macy's eye of
No
priest
Shall pluck
who walks
from
The
the earth,
away the stranger-guest
Made welcome
Down
fire
to
my
hearth."
his cottage wall
matchlock, hotly
he caught
tried
At Preston-pans and Marston-moor,
By
fiery Ireton's side;
Where Puritan and Cavalier

With shout and psalm contended
And Rupert's oath, and Cromwell's
With battle-thunder blended.
Up
"
rose the ancient stranger then
My
spirit is
not free
To bring the wrath and

Of evil men on thee
violence
prayer,
THE EXILES
"
And
for thyself, I pray forbear,
Bethink thee of thy Lord,
Who
healed again the smitten ear,
And
"
sheathed His follower's sword.
I go, as to the slaughter led.
Friends of the poor, farewell
Beneath
his
Back on
" Come
hand the oaken door

its
hinges
fell.
forth, old graybeard,
The
As
"
!
yea and nay,"
reckless scoffers cried.
to a horseman's saddle-bow
The
And
old man's arms were tied.
of his bondage hard and long
In Boston's crowded
jail,
Where suffering woman's prayer was

With sickening childhood's wail.
It suits
not with our tale to
tell
Those scenes have passed away
Let the dim shadows of the past
Brood
o'er that evil day.
" Ho, sheriff! " quoth the ardent priest,

" Take Goodman Macy too ;
The
sin
of this day's heresy
His back or purse
shall rue."
heard,
THE EXILES
8o
"
Now,
goodwife, haste thee
She caught
his
"
manly arm
Macy
cried.
Behind, the parson urged pursuit.
With
Ho
outcry and alarm.
speed the Macys, neck or naught,
The river-course was near

The plashing on its pebbled shore
;
Was
music to
gray rock, tasselled o'er with birch,
Above
And
A
A
the waters hung,
at its base,
with every wave,
small light wherry swung.
leap
they gain the boat
The goodman
"
111
their ear.
and
there
wields his oar
luck betide them all," he cried,

" The laggards on the shore."
Down
through the crashing underwood.
The
burly sheriff
came
Goodman Macy, yield thyself;

Yield in the King's own name."
"Stand,
"
Now
out upon thy hangman's face
Bold
"
Macy answered
Whip women,
on the
then,
village green.
But meddle not with men."
"
!
^Î go^ as to the slaughter led'^
THE EXILES
The
came panting
priest
8i
to the shore,
His grave cocked hat was gone
Behind him,
like
some owl's
nest,
hung
His wig upon a thorn.
"
Come back come back " the parson

"The church's curse beware."
!
" Curse, an thou wilt,"
Thy
" Vile
scoffer
Who
's
" cried the baffled
'It
priest,
yet the gallows see."
born to be hanged will not be drowned,"
Quoth Macy,
" And
Macy, " but
blessing prithee spare."
" Thou
"
said
cried,
merrily
so, sir sheriff
and
priest,
good-by
"
!
He bent him to his oar.

And the small boat glided quietly
From the twain upon the shore.
Now
in the
west the heavy clouds
Scattered and
While
And
And
feebler
fainter
fell
came
asunder.
the rush of rain.
growled the thunder.
through the broken clouds, the sun
Looked out serene and warm.

Painting
Upon
its
holy symbol-light
the passing storm.
THE EXILES
82
Oh,
beautiful
that
rainbow span,
O'er dim Crane-neck was bended
One bright
And one
By
foot touched the eastern hills,
with ocean blended.
green Pentucket's southern slope
The small boat glided fast

The watchers of the Block-house saw
The strangers as they passed.
That
night a stalwart garrison
Sat shaking in their shoes.
To
hear the dip of Indian oars,
The
glide of birch canoes.
The fisher-wives of Salisbury

The men were all away
Looked out
Upon
Deer
to see the stranger oar
their waters play.
Island's rocks and fir-trees threw
Their sunset shadows
And Newbury's
spire
o'er
them,
and weathercock
Peered o'er the pines before them.
Around
the Black Rocks,
on
their left.
The marsh lay broad and green

And on their right with dwarf shrubs
;
Plum
Island's hills
were seen.
crowned.
THE
With
skilful
The
EXILES
hand and wary eye
harbor-bar was crossed
plaything of the restless wave.
The
The
boat on ocean tossed.
glory of the sunset heaven
On land and water lay

On the steep hills of Agawam,
On cape, and bluff, and bay.
They
passed the gray rocks of
Cape Ann,
And Gloucester's harbor-bar

The watch-fire of the garrison
Shone
like a setting star.
How brightly broke the morning

On Massachusetts Bay
!
Blue wave, and bright green island.

Rejoicing in the day.
On
passed the bark in safety
Round
isle
and headland steep
No tempest broke above them.

No fog-cloud veiled the deep.
Far round the bleak and stormy Cape
The venturous Macy passed.

And on Nantucket's naked isle
Drew up his boat at last.
THE
EXILES
And how, in log-built cabin,

They braved the rough sea-weather;
And there, in peace and quietness,
Went down life's vale together;
How
drew around them,
others
And how
their fishing sped,
Until to every wind of heaven
Nantucket's
How
pale
With
Behold,
sails
Want
were spread
alternated
Plenty's golden smile
In the annals of the
And
isle
yet that isle remaineth
refuge of the free.
As when
Beheld
Free
not written
is it
true-hearted
it
as the
Her
from the
Macy
sea.
winds that winnow
shrubless hills of sand,
Free as the waves that batter
Along her
Than
No
Nor
yielding land.
hers, at duty's
summons,
loftier spirit stirs.
falls o'er
human
suffering
readier tear than hers.
THE
EXILES
God bless the sea-beat island

And grant forevermore,
That
charity and freedom dwell
As now upon
her shore
BARCLAY OF URY
Among
earliest
tlie
converts to the doctrines
of Friends in Scotland was Barclay of Ury, an old
and distinguished
who had
soldier,
Gustavus Adolphus, in Germany.
fought under
As
Quaker,
he became the object of persecution and abuse
at
the hands of the magistrates and the populace.
None
mob
bore the indignities of the
with greater
patience and nobleness of soul than this once proud
gentleman and
an occasion of
One
soldier.
uncommon
of his friends, on
rudeness, lamented that
he should be treated so harshly
who had
been so honored before.
in his
satisfaction,*' said Barclay, **as well as
being thus insulted for
when,
gistrates, as I
me on
my
few years ago,
more
honor, in
religious principles, than
it
was
usual for the
ma-
passed the city of Aberdeen, to meet
the road and conduct
tainment in their
again, to gain
old age
I find
my
hall,
me
to public enter-
and then escort
favor."
me
out
BARCLAY OF URY
P
the streets of Aberdeen,
By the kirk and college

Rode the Laird of Ury
green,
Close behind him, close beside,
Foul of mouth and evil-eyed.
mob
Pressed the
in fury.
Flouted him the drunken churl,

Jeered
him the
at
Prompt
And
to please her master;
the begging carlin, late
Fed and clothed
at
Cursed him
Yet,
Up
serving-girl,
vvîth
Ury's gate.
he passed her.
as
calm and
Came
And,
he slowly riding;
to all he
saw and heard.
Answering not with
Turning not
Came
Bits
mien,
stately
the streets of Aberdeen
a troop with
and
bitter
word,
for chiding.
broadswords swinging.
bridles sharply ringing,
Loose and
free
and froward
BARCLAY OF URY
90
Quoth
the foremost, " Ride
Push him
him
him down
through the town

Drive the Quaker coward "
prick
But from out the thickening crowd

Cried a sudden voice and loud
Barclay
And
the old
Saw
Ho
man
a Barclay
"
!
at his side
comrade, battle
tried.
Scarred and sunburned darkly
Who
with ready weapon bare.
Fronting to the troopers there.

Cried aloud
Call ye coward
Ankle deep
With
" Nay,
"
God
save us,
him who stood
in Liitzen's blood.
the brave Gustavus
"
?
do not need thy sword.
Comrade mine,"
" Put
it
up,
said
I
Ury's lord
pray thee
Passive to His holy will.
Trust
I in
my
Master
Even though
He
still.
slay
"Pledges of thy love and

Proved on many a
Not by
me
field
me.
faith.
of death,
are needed."
BARCLAY OF URY
much
Marvelled
That
that
henchman
91
bold,
his laird, so stout of old.
Now
" Woe 's
With
so
meekly pleaded.
the day
" he sadly
said,
a slowly shaking head.
And
a look of pity
" Ury's honest
Mock
lord reviled.
of knave and sport of child,
In his
own good
city
" Speak the word, and, master mine.
As we charged on
And
his
Tilly's line.
Walloon
lancers.
Smiting through their midst we'll teach

Civil look and decent speech
To
" Marvel not, mine ancient

Like beginning,
Quoth
"
like the
his gracious
Bonds and
" Give me joy
1
friend.
end,"
the Laird of
Is the sinful servant
Than
"
these boyish prancers
Ury
more
Lord who bore
stripes in
that in
Jewry
His name
can bear, with patient frame.

All these vain ones offer;
BARCLAY OF URY
92
While
for
them
Shall I answer
He
sufFereth long,
wrong with wrong,
Scoffing with the scoffer
" Happier
I,
with loss of
Hunted, outlawed, held
With few friends

Than when reeve and
all,
in thrall,
me.
to greet
squire were seen,
Riding out from Aberdeen,
With
"When
mej
bared heads to meet
each goodwife, o'er and
o'er,
me as I passed her door

And the snooded daughter,
Blessed
Through
her casement glancing dowrv
Smiled on him
From
" Hard
Hard
who
bore renown
red fields of slaughter.
to feel the stranger's scoff.
the old friend's falling
Hard
off.
to learn forgiving;
But the Lord His own rewards.
And His
love with theirs accords,
Warm
" Through
and fresh and
this
living.
dark and stormy night
Faith beholds a feeble light
Up the
blackness streaking
BARCLAY OF URY
Knowing God's own time
In a patient hope
For the
full
day-breaking
So the Laird of Ury
Turning slow
best,
is
I rest
"
!
said,
his horse's
head
Towards the Tolbooth prison.

Where, through iron gates, he heard
Poor
disciples of the
Word
Preach of Christ arisen
Not in vain, Confessor old,

Unto us the tale is told
Of thy
day of
trial
Every age on him who
From
its
strays
broad and beaten ways
Pours
its
seven-fold vial.
Happy he whose inward

Angel comfortings can
ear
hear.
O'er the rabble's laughter;
And
while Hatred's fagots burn.
Glimpses through the smoke discern
Of the
Knowing
good
hereafter.
this, that
never yet
Share of Truth was vainly set
In the world's wide fallow
BARCLAY OF URY
94
After hands shall sow the seed,

After hands from
Reap the
hill
and mead
harvests yellow.
Thus, with somewhat of the
Must
Seer,
the moral pioneer
From
the Future borrow
Clothe the waste with dreams of grain,
And, on midnight's sky of

Paint the golden
rain.
morrow
THE
KING^S MISSIVE
1661
This ballad, originally written

rial History of Boston^ describes,
poetic license, a
of the city.
for
memorable incident
The
in the residence of the latter,
and not
to
Chamber.
some
in the annals
interview between Shattuck
and the Governor took place,
cil
The Memo-
with pardonable
The
have since learned,

in the
Coun-
publication of the ballad led
discussion as to the historical truthfulness
of the picture, but
have seen no reason
to
rub
out any of the figures or alter the lines and colors.
THE
KING'S MISSIVE
1661
UNDER
To
the great
cove and
sloping bare
hill
meadow and Common
lot,
In his council chamber and oaken chair,
Sat the worshipful
Governor Endicott.
grave, strong man,
who knew no
peer
In the pilgrim land, where he ruled in fear
Of God,
Held
not man, and for good or
his trust
with an iron
ill
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
Earnest and honest, a
To
burn
man
at
like a torch for his
own
With
" Woe
The
town.
harsh creed.
He kept with the flaming brand of his

The gate of the holy common weal.
His brow was clouded,
to
need
was
his eye
zeal
stern,
a look of mingled sorrow and wrath
's
me
" he murmured
pestilent
Quakers
are in
"
at
my
every turn
path
THE
98
KING'S MISSIVE
Some we have scourged, and banished some,

Some hanged, more doomed, and still they come,
Fast as the tide of yon bay sets
Sowing
their heresy's seed
" Did we count on
The
Of
this
of
in,
sin.
Did we
our English hearths and homes, to find
Troublers of Israel such as these

Shall I spare
I
leave behind
graves of our kin, the comfort and ease
Shall
I pity
will do as the prophet to
them
Agag
God
did
forbid
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
fellow banished on pain of death
Shattuck of Salem, unhealed of the whip,
Brought over
in
At anchor here
With
Master Goldsmith's ship

in a Christian port,
freight of the devil
Twice and
thrice
and
all his sort
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
Bring hither the Quaker."
Calm,
all
sedate,
THE
With
KING'S MISSIVE
man
the look of a
at ease
with
99
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
;
bear his message and stand in his stead."
In the Governor's hand a missive he laid
With
And
the royal arms on
the proud
man
its
seal displayed.
spake as he gazed thereat,
Uncovering, " Give Mr. Shattuck
his hat."
He turned to the Quaker, bowing low,

"The king commandeth your friends'
Doubt not he
To
What
his subjects'
release;
be obeyed, although
shall
sorrow and
sin's increase.
he here enjoineth, John Endicott,
His loyal servant, questioneth not.
You
May
are free
God
grant the spirit you
take you from us to parts
So the door of the
And,
like
jail
was open
'
passed,
With age-bowed women and
Was
cast,
Daniel, out of the lion's den
Tender youth and girlhood
And
own
unknown."
gray-locked men.
the voice of one appointed to die

lifted in praise
and thanks on high,
THE
100
And
the
little
KING'S MISSIVE
maid from
Kissed, in her joy, the
And
New
Netherlands
doomed man's hands.
one, whose call was to minister
To the souls in prison, beside him

An ancient woman, bearing with her
The
For
went,
linen shroud for his burial meant.
she, not counting her
own
dear.
life
In the strength of a love that cast out
Had watched and
One moment
On
beside.
they paused on their
the martyr graves by the
And much
fear,
served where her brethren died,
Like those who waited the cross
scourged
way
Not
fight,
ye are victors crowned,
a fourfold chain ye have Satan
The autumn
in vain
the Master's cross of pain
have fought the
With
side.
Wharton of Salem took
" Rest, souls of the valiant
Have ye borne
to look
Common
His burden of prophecy up and cried
Ye
haze lay
soft
and
bound
"
!
still
On wood and meadow and upland farms

On the brow of Snow Hill the great windmill
Slowly and lazily swung
Broad
With
in the
its
its
arms
sunshine stretched away,
capes and islands, the turquoise bay
And
over water and dusk of pines
Blue
hills lifted their faint outlines.
THE
KING'S MISSIVE
loi
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
And
And
The
of pale star-mist,
frost flower clusters
gentian fringes of amethyst.

royal plumes of golden-rod.
grazing cattle on Gentry trod.
But
as they
The
With deep
On
who
see not, the
world about them
thanksgiving and pious awe
the great deliverance
Through
Quakers saw
they only thought
God
had wrought.
town
lane and alley the gazing
Noisily followed them up and
down
Some with
Some with
jeer.
One
scoffing
pity
and brutal
and words of cheer.
brave voice rose above the din.
Upsall, gray with his length of days.
Cried from the door of his Red Lion Inn
Men
"
No
more
The
The
of Boston, give
shall
bolts of
innocent blood
the praise
call
down
wrath on your guilty town.
freedom of worship, dear to you.
Is dear to all,
"
God
I see
and to
all is
due.
the vision of days to come.
When
your beautiful City of the Bay
THE
102
KING'S MISSIVE
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

As outward Letter and inward Light
Kept the balance of
The
Puritan
To
And
spirit,
strong.
truth aright.
perishing not.
Concord's yeomen the signal sent,
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.
HOW THE WOMEN WENT FROM

DOVER
The following is a copy of the warrant

by Major Waldron, of Dover, in 1662.
Quakers,
as
was
him, and saw,
their
as
issued
The
wont, prophesied against
they supposed, the fulfilment of
their
prophecy when, many years
killed
by the Indians.
after,
he was
To the constables of Dover^ Hampton^ Salisbury^ Neivbury^
Rowley y Ipsivich^ JVenham^ Lynn, Boston, Roxbury, Dedham, and until these -vagabond Sluakers are carried out of
this jurisdiction.
You, and every one of you, are required, in the King's

Majesty's name, to take these vagabond Quakers, Anne
Colman, Mary Tomkins, and Alice Ambrose, and make
them
fast to the cart's tail and driving the cart through

your several towns, to whip them upon their naked backs
not exceeding ten stripes apiece on each of them, in each
town ; and so to convey them from constable to constable
till they are out of this jurisdiction, as you will answer it at
your peril ; and this shall be your warrant.
Richard Waldron.
Dated
at Dover,
December
22, 1662.
This warrant was executed only in Dover and
Hampton.
obey
ple,
it.
At Salisbury the constable refused to

was sustained by the town's peo-
He
who were
under the influence
man in
Merrimac, who stood
of Major
Robert Pike, the leading
the lower val-
ley of the
far
of
his
and an opponent of
advance
ecclesiastical authority.
had the moral courage
manly
in
time, as an advocate of religious freedom
letter to the
to
He
address an able and
court at Salem, remonstrating
against the witchcraft trials.
HOW THE WOMEN WENT FROM

DOVER
THE
tossing spray of Cocheco's
Hardened
to ice
on
As through Dover town

Three women
its
fall
rocky wall,
in the chill, gray
passed, at the cart-tail
dawn,
drawn
Bared to the waist, for the north wind's grip
And
The
keener sting of the constable's whip,

blood that followed each hissing blow
Froze
as
Priest
and
sprinkled the winter snow.
it
ruler,
boy and maid
Followed the dismal cavalcade
And from
door and window, open thrown.

Looked and wondered gaffer and crone.
"God
"We
is
our witness," the victims cried,
suffer for
The wrong
We
for all
men
died
bear the stripes that the Master bore
" And thou,
We
Him who
ye do has been done before
Richard Waldron, for
hear the feet of a coming doom.
whom
; ;
HOW THE WOMEN
io6
On
thy cruel heart and thy hand of
Vengeance
" In the
is
sure,
beneath
With
it
tarry long.
it
see
a proud roof-tree
an old
stains of blood
man
on
his
lying dead.
hoary head."
" Smite, Goodman Hate-Evil
The
we
of the Lord, a flame
light
Climb and kindle
And
though
wrong
'*
harder
still
magistrate cried, " lay on with a will
Drive out of their bodies the Father of Lies,
Who
through them preaches and prophesies
So into the forest they held
their
way.
By winding river and frost-rimmed

Over wind-swept hills that felt the
Of
"
!
bay,
beat
the winter sea at their icy feet.
The
Indian hunter, searching his traps.
Peered stealthily through the forest gaps
And the outlying settler shook his head,

"They 're witches going to jail," he said.
At
last a
blast
And
meeting-house came
on
his
view
horn the constable blew
the boys of
"The Quakers
town.
in
Hampton cried up and down

have come!" to the wondering
Into the forest they held their
way
"
WENT FROM DOVER

From
The
107
barn and woodpile the goodman came;
goodwife quitted her quilting frame,
With
her child
The grandam
at
her breast
and, hobbling slow,
followed to see the show.
Once more the torturing whip was swung.

Once more keen lashes the bare flesh stung.
" Oh, spare they are bleeding " a little maid
And covered her face the sight to hide.
!
murmur
Quoth the
"
No
ran round the crowd
Good
folks,"
constable, busy counting the strokes,
pity to wretches like these
They have
Then
With
"
cried.
is
due.
beaten the gospel black and blue
woman, in wild-eyed fear.

wooden noggin of milk drew near.
a pallid
her
" Drink, poor
hearts
" a rude hand smote
Her draught away from
a parching throat.
" Take heed," one whispered, " they
'11
take your
cow
For
And
She
fines, as
they took your horse and plough.
the bed from under you."

said
Then on
" they
" Even so,"
are cruel as death, I
know."
they passed, in the waning day.
Through Seabrook woods,
a weariful
way;
HOW THE WOMEN
io8
By great salt meadows and sand-hills bare,

And glimpses of blue sea here and there.
By
the meeting-house in Salisbury
The
Bare for the lash
Drop
With shame
The
swift thy curtain
in his eye
town
sundown.
sufferers stood, in the red
pitying Night,
and hide the
and wrath on
Cursed
is
he
who
foul
and red
Of all
serves it," he said.
" Show me the order, and meanwhile

A blow at your peril " said Justice
strike
Pike.
the rulers the land possessed,
Wisest and boldest was he and

scoffed at witchcraft
As man meets man

Beyond
his
his feet
he
set
dark age, standing upright.
read the warrant:
From our
best.
the priest he met
Soul-free, with his face to the
He
his lip
Salisbury constable dropped his whip.
" This warrant means murder
He
sight
precincts
under
light.
These convey
at every town on the
Give each ten lashes'^

I tread his order
morning
"
God judge
my foot
way
the brute
"
WENT FROM DOVER

"Cut loose
Come what
No
these poor ones and

will of
warrant
is
it, all
men
let
109
them go;
shall
know
good, though backed by the Crown,
For whipping women
in Salisbury
town
The hearts of the villagers, half released

From creed of terror and rule of priest.
By
a primal instinct
Of human
owned
the right
pity in law's despite.
For ruth and chivalry only

His Saxon manhood
the
slept.
yeoman kept
Quicker or slower, the same blood ran

In the Cavalier and the Puritan.
The Quakers sank on their knees in praise

And thanks. A last, low sunset blaze
Flashed out from under a cloud, and shed
golden glory on each bowed head.
The
tale
When
And
is
souls
one of an
were
evil time.
fettered
and thought was crime.
heresy's whisper above
its
breath
Meant shameful scourging and bonds and
What
death
marvel, that hunted and sorely tried,
Even woman rebuked and
prophesied,
no
And
The
HOW THE WOMEN WENT

soft
words
rarely
answered back
grim persuasion of whip and rack
If her cry from the whipping-post and
jail
Pierced sharp as the Kenite's driven nail,
woman,
at ease in these
Forbear to judge of thy
happier days,
sister's
ways
How much thy beautiful life may owe

To her faith and courage thou canst not
Nor how from
know,
the paths of thy calm retreat
She smoothed the thorns with her bleeding
feet.

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V

THE TENT ON THE BEACH

Digitized by the Internet Archive

the Quakej's through Boston tow?i (page

BY JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER

BOSTON AND NEW YORK

BY HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN & CO.

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

simple device which Mr. Whittier em-

ployed for framing some of his most characteristic

This poetical picnic

background of ocean and stretches

the figures in the scene themselves

scenes and dramatic incidents upon

most natural for two

the added charm, as of a play within a play,

but slightly removed from

more than one poem of Mr. Whit-

friends, the great

reminiscent of gatherings in the

these images in the mirror

and Mr. and Mrs. Woodbury have

thus added their grace to the poet's invention.

The poems which

have been added are such as

have been told had the poet and

pitched their tent again, or been a

the close of their

HOW THE WOMEN WENT

So passed the Quakers through Boston town

Pitched their white tent where sea-winds blew

the saddest, silence

was wellnigh done

ghost of what was once a ship

go, as to the slaughter led"

Into the forest they held their

wreck of the Palatine

"Let God do His work, we

of these fancies wild"

In the shadow of the ash

her out of this evil shadow,

THE TENT ON THE BEACH

can scarcely be necessary to name

reckoned with myself in

poetical picnic. Fields the lettered magnate,

sandy beach which defines almost the whole of the

New Hampshire sea-coast is especially marked near

River winds through

tent pitched near

was the scene of

that each person read his

above brown roofs and

nally designed following the

the Merrimac, with

lifting its steeples

green bluff to the northward

THE TENT ON THE BEACH

sin, in this half-playful strain,

perhaps for serious years, though

enforced leisure of slow pain,

Against the pure ideal which has drawn

My feet to follow its far-shining gleam.

credulous days, old fancies that have lain