Classic Poem

WRITTEN FOR THE BIS-CENTENNIAL CELEBRATION OF THE SETTLEMENT OF BOSTON .

Two hundred years! — far in the gloom
Of the past Time, I pierce their gloom;
And see the Pilgrim-Fathers land
Upon this bleak, and lonely strand!
Behind — the Sea heaves its black waves,
Above — the midnight tempest raves,
Around — the mustering Indians yell
On their wild hills — a savage knell!
But to their God they kneel and pray,
Then steadfastly press on their way.

And here our Pilgrim-Fathers trod;
Our Christian-Fathers worshipped God;
Our Patriot-Fathers, scorned to cower
On slavish knee to kingly power;
Our Soldier-Fathers, with the sword
Slew in the wild the Indian horde;
And made the lawless Briton flee
From hill to hill, from sea to sea.
Then let their children, at their grave,
Give honor to the Noble Brave.

Two hundred years! how fast doth fly
Time! hastening to Eternity!
How few the years since here alone
Was heard of Winds and Waves the moan;
Save when around the sea-beat cliff
Hovered the lonely Indian skiff.
Now the broad Bay is white with sail
And human bustle loads the gale.
Then honor to that pilgrim band,
The fathers of this chosen land!