Pateat tellus, Typhisque novos A time will come in future ages far When Ocean will his circling bounds unbar, New worlds shall rise, where mightier kingdoms are, This poetic forecast, of which Washington Irving wrote "the predictions of the ancient oracles were rarely so unequivocal," is part of the "chorus" at the end of the second act of Seneca's "Medea," written near the date of St. Paul's first Epistle to the Thessalonians. Seneca, the celebrated Roman (Stoic) philosopher, was born at or very near the time of our Saviour's birth. There are legends of his acquaintance with Paul, at Rome, but though he wrote able and quotable treatises On Consolation, On Providence, On Calmness of Soul, and On the Blessed Life, there is no direct evidence that the savor of Christian faith ever qualified his works or his personal principles. He was a man of grand ideas and inspirations, but he was a time server and a flatterer of the Emperor Nero, who, nevertheless, caused his death when he had no further use for him. His compulsory suicide occurred A. D. 65, the year in which St. Paul is supposed to have suffered martyrdom. "THE BREAKING WAVES DASHED HIGH." Sitting at the tea-table one evening, near a century ago, Mrs. Hemans read an old account of the "Landing of the Pilgrims," and was inspired to write this poem, which became a favorite in America-like herself, and all her other works. The ballad is inaccurate in details, but presents the spirit of the scene with true poet insight. Mr. James T. Fields, the noted Boston publisher, visited the lady in her old age, and received an autograph copy of the poem, which is seen in Pilgrim Hall, Plymouth, Mass. 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 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's 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 waves' foam, And the rocking pines of the forest roared,—this was their wel come home! Pateat tellus, Typhisque novos A time will come in future ages far When Ocean will his circling bounds unbar, New worlds shall rise, where mightier kingdoms are, This poetic forecast, of which Washington Irving wrote "the predictions of the ancient oracles were rarely so unequivocal," is part of the "chorus” at the end of the second act of Seneca's "Medea," written near the date of St. Paul's first Epistle to the Thessalonians. Seneca, the celebrated Roman (Stoic) philosopher, was born at or very near the time of our Saviour's birth. There are legends of his acquaintance with Paul, at Rome, but though he wrote able and quotable treatises On Consolation, On Providence, On Calmness of Soul, and On the Blessed Life, there is no direct evidence that the savor of Christian faith ever qualified his works or his personal principles. He was a man of grand ideas and inspirations,but he was a time server and a flatterer of the Emperor Nero, who, nevertheless, caused his death when he had no further use for him. His compulsory suicide occurred A. D. 65, the year in which St. Paul is supposed to have suffered martyrdom. "THE BREAKING WAVES DASHED HIGH." Sitting at the tea-table one evening, near a century ago, Mrs. Hemans read an old account of the "Landing of the Pilgrims," and was inspired to write this poem, which became a favorite in America-like herself, and all her other works. The ballad is inaccurate in details, but presents the spirit of the scene with true poet insight. Mr. James T. Fields, the noted Boston publisher, visited the lady in her old age, and received an autograph copy of the poem, which is seen in Pilgrim Hall, Plymouth, Mass. 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 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's 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 waves' foam, And the rocking pines of the forest roared,—this was their wel come home! There were men with hoary hair amidst that pilgrim band,— Why had they come to wither there, 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 left unstained what there they found,-freedom to worship God! Felicia Dorothea Browne (Mrs. Hemans) was born in Liverpool, Eng., 1766, and died 1845. THE TUNE. The original tune is not now accessible. It was composed by Mrs. Mary E. (Browne) Arkwright, Mrs. Hemans' sister, and published in England about 1835. But the words have been sung in this country to "Silver St.," a choral not entirely forgotten, credited to an English composer, Isaac Smith, born, in London, about 1735, and died there in 1800. "WESTWARD THE COURSE OF EMPIRE." Usually misquoted "Westward the Star of Empire," etc. This poem of Bishop Berkeley possesses no lyrical quality but, like the ancient Roman's words, partakes of the prophetic spirit, and has always been dear to the American heart |