THE LANDING OF THE PILGRIM FATHERS IN NEW ENGLAND
: Types Of Children's Literature
Felicia Browne Hemans
Look now abroad! Another race has fill'd
Those populous borders--wide the wood recedes,
And towns shoot up, and fertile realms are till'd;
The land is full of harvests and green meads.
The breaking waves dash'd high
On a stern and rockbound coast,
And the woods against a sto
Their giant branches toss'd.
And the heavy night hung dark
The hills and waters o'er,
When a band of exiles moor'd 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 soar'd
From his nest by the white wave's foam;
And the rocking pines of the forest roar'd,--
This was their welcome home!
There were men with hoary hair
Amidst that pilgrim band;--
Why had _they_ come to wither here,
Away from their childhood's land?
There was woman's fearless eye,
Lit by her deep love's truth;
There was manhood's brow serenely high,
And the fiery heart of youth.
What sought they thus afar?
Bright jewels of the mine?
The wealth of seas, the spoils of war?--
They sought a faith's pure shrine!
Ay, call it holy ground,
The soil where first they trod.
They have left unstained, what there they found--
Freedom to worship God.