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They are gone from amongst you, the young and fair,
The summer is coming, on soft winds borne,
THE LANDING OF THE PILGRIM FATHERS.
The breaking waves dash'd high
On a stern and rock-bound coast,
Their giant branches tost;
And the heavy night hung dark
The hills and waters o'er,
On the wild New England shore.
Not as the conqueror comes,
They, the true-hearted came,
And the trumpet that sings of fame ;
Not as the flying come,
In silence and in fear,
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 roard
This was their welcome home!
There were men with hoary hair,
Amidst that pilgrim-band-
Away from their childhood's land?
There was woman's fearless eye,
Lit by her deep love's truth ;
And the fiery heart of youth.
What sought they thus afar ?
Bright jewels of the mine?
- They sought a faith's pure shrine !
Ay, call it holy ground,
The soil where first they trod!
Freedom to worship God!
[These glorious verses will find an echo in the breast of every true descendant of the Pilgrims; and give the name of their authoress a place in many hearts. She has laid our community under a common obligation of gratitude. Every one must feel the sublimity and poetical truth, with which she has conceived the scene presented, and the inspiration of that deep and holy strain of sentiment, which sounds forth like the pealing of an organ. Ed.]
THE HEBREW MOTHER.
The rose was in rich bloom on Sharon's plain,