There came a burst of thunder-sound— The boy—O! where was he? Ask of the winds that far around With fragments strewed the sea:
With mast, and helm, and pennon fair, That well had borne their part! But the noblest thing which perished there Was that young faithful heart.
Hemans.
[LXXXII]
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 shore.
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 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!