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The flames rolled on. He would not go

Without his father's word; That father faint in death below,

His voice no longer heard.

He called aloud: "Say, father, say
If yet my task is done!"

He knew not that the chieftain lay
Unconscious of his son.

"Speak, father!" once again he cried,
"If I may yet be gone!"
And but the booming shots replied,
And fast the flames rolled on.

Upon his brow he felt their breath,

And in his waving hair,

And looked from that lone post of death
In still, yet brave despair;

And shouted but once more aloud,

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'My father! must I stay?"

While o'er him fast through sail and shroud,

The wreathing fires made way.

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With mast, and helm, and pennon fair,

That well had borne their part;

But the noblest thing that perished there

Was that young faithful heart!

Mrs. Hemans.

CLXXI.

THE BENDED BOW.

HERE was heard the sound of a coming foe,

THERE

There was sent through Britain a bended bow; And a voice was poured on the free winds far, As the land rose up at the sound of war:

Heard ye not the battle horn?
Reaper! leave thy golden corn!
Leave it for the birds of heaven;
Swords must flash, and spears be riven:

Leave it for the winds to shed,

Arm! ere Britain's turf grows red!

And the reaper armed, like a freeman's son;
And the bended bow and the voice passed on.

Hunter! leave the mountain chase!
Take the falchion from its place!
Let the wolf go free to-day;

Leave him for a nobler prey!

Let the deer ungalled sweep by,

Arm thee! Britain's foes are nigh!

And the hunter armed, ere the chase was done;
And the bended bow and the voice passed on.

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And the chieftain armed, and the horn was blown; And the bended bow and the voice passed on.

Prince! thy father's deeds are told

In the bower and in the hold,
Where the goatherd's lay is sung,

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Give our bards a tale of thee!

And the prince came armed, like a leader's son;
And the bended bow and the voice passed on.

Mother! stay thou not thy boy!
He must learn the battle's joy.
Sister! bring the sword and spear,
Give thy brother words of cheer!
Maiden bid thy lover part;
Britain calls the strong in heart!

And the bended bow and the voice passed on;
And the bards made song of a battle won.

Mrs. Hemans.

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HEAR thee speak of the better land,
Thou call'st its children a happy band;
Mother! O where is that radiant shore?
Shall we not seek it and weep no more?
Is it where the flower of the orange blows,
And the fire-flies glance thro' the myrtle boughs?"
"Not there, not there, my child!"

"Is it where the feathery palm-trees rise, And the date grows ripe under sunny skies? Or midst the green islands of glittering seas, Where fragrant forests perfume the breeze, And strange, bright birds, on starry wings, Bear the rich hues of all glorious things?" "Not there, not there, my child!"

"Is it far away, in some region old, Where the rivers wander o'er sands of gold? Where the burning rays of the ruby shine, And the diamond lights up the secret mine,

And the pearl gleams forth from the coral strand?" Is it there, sweet mother! that better land?"

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"Eye hath not seen it, my gentle boy!
Ear hath not heard its deep songs of joy ;
Dreams cannot picture a world so fair
Sorrow and death may not enter there;
Time doth not breathe on its fadeless bloom,
For beyond the clouds, and beyond the tomb,
It is there, it is there, my child."

Mrs. Hemans.

CLXXIII.

LANDING OF THE PILGRIM FATHERS.

HE breaking waves dashed high

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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'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 wave's foam,
And the rocking pines of the forest roared;
This was their welcome home!

There were men with hoary hair
Amidst that Pilgrim band;

Why have 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.

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They have left unstained what there they found
Freedom to worship God!

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Mrs. Hemans.

CLXXIV.

BERNARDO DEL CARP10.

THE warrior bowed his crested head, and tamed his heart

of fire,

And sued the haughty king to free his long-imprisoned sire; "I bring thee here my fortress-keys, I bring my captive train, I pledge thee faith, my liege, my lord! O! break my father's

chain !"

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