IX.

THE WEDDING-DAY.

FORTH from the curtain of clouds, from the tent of purple and scarlet,

Issued the sun, the great High-Priest, in his garments resplendent,

Holiness unto the Lord, in letters of light, on his forehead, Round the hem of his robe the golden bells and pomegran

ates.1

Blessing the world he came, and the bars of vapor beneath

him

5

Gleamed like a grate of brass, and the sea at his feet was a laver!

This was the wedding morn of Priscilla the Puritan maiden. Friends were assembled together; the Elder and Magistrate also

Graced the scene with their presence, and stood like the Law and the Gospel,

One with the sanction of earth and one with the blessing of

heaven.

10

Simple and brief was the wedding, as that of Ruth and of

Boaz.'

Softly the youth and the maiden repeated the words of be

trothal,

Taking each other for husband and wife in the Magistrate's presence,

After the Puritan way, and the laudable custom of Holland.3

1 Exodus, xxviii.

2 Ruth, iv. 11, 12.

3 "May 12 was the first marriage in this place," says Bradford, "which, according to the laudable custome of the Low-Cuntries, in which they had lived, was thought most requisite to be performed by the magistrate, as being a civil thing, upon which many questions aboute inheritances doe depende, with other things most proper to their cog

Fervently then and devoutly, the excellent Elder of Plymouth

15

Prayed for the hearth and the home, that were founded that day in affection,

Speaking of life and of death, and imploring Divine benedictions.

Lo! when the service was ended, a form appeared on the

threshold,

Clad in armor of steel, a sombre and sorrowful figure!

Why does the bridegroom start and stare at the strange ap

parition?

20

Why does the bride turn pale, and hide her face on his shoulder?

Is it a phantom of air,—a bodiless, spectral illusion?

Is it a ghost from the grave, that has come to forbid the be

trothal ?

Long had it stood there unseen, a guest uninvited, unwelcomed;

Over its clouded eyes there had passed at times an expres

sion

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Softening the gloom and revealing the warm heart hidden

beneath them,

As when across the sky the driving rack of the rain cloud Grows for a moment thin, and betrays the sun by its bright

ness.

Once it had lifted its hand, and moved its lips, but was silent, As if an iron will had mastered the fleeting intention. 30 But when were ended the troth and the prayer and the last

benediction,

Into the room it strode, and the people beheld with amazement

nizans, and most consonante to the scripturs, Ruth 4, and no wher found in the gospell to be layed on the ministers as a part of their office."-History of Plymouth Plantation, p. 101.

Bodily there in his armor Miles Standish, the Captain of Plymouth!

Grasping the bridegroom's hand, he said with emotion, “Forgive me!

I have been angry and hurt,-too long have I cherished the 35

feeling;

I have been cruel and hard, but now, thank God! it is

ended.

Mine is the same hot blood that leaped in the veins of Hugh Standish,

Sensitive, swift to resent, but as swift in atoning for error. Never so much as now was Miles Standish the friend of John

Alden."

Thereupon answered the bridegroom: "Let all be forgotten

between us,

40

All save the dear old friendship, and that shall grow older and dearer!"

Then the Captain advanced, and, bowing, saluted Priscilla, Gravely, and after the manner of old-fashioned gentry in

England,

Something of camp and of court, of town and of country, commingled,

Wishing her joy of her wedding, and loudly lauding her hus

band.

45

Then he said with a smile: "I should have remembered the

adage,

If you would be well served, you must serve yourself; and

moreover,

No man can gather cherries in Kent' at the season of Christ

mas!"

Great was the people's amazement, and greater yet their rejoicing,

1 An old English proverb. Kent is a county in the south of England.

Thus to behold once more the sunburnt face of their Captain,

50

Whom they had mourned as dead; and they gathered and crowded about him,

Eager to see him and hear him, forgetful of bride and of bridegroom,

Questioning, answering, laughing, and each interrupting the other,

Till the good Captain declared, being quite overpowered and bewildered,

55

He had rather by far break into an Indian encampment, Than come again to a wedding to which he had not been invited.

Meanwhile the bridegroom went forth and stood with the bride at the doorway,

Breathing the perfumed air of that warm and beautiful morning.

Touched with autumnal tints, but lonely and sad in the sun

shine,

60

Lay extended before them the land of toil and privation; There were the graves of the dead, and the barren waste of

the seashore,

There the familiar fields, the groves of pine, and the meadows; But to their eyes transfigured, it seemed as the Garden of

Eden,

Filled with the presence of God, whose voice was the sound of the ocean.

Soon was their vision disturbed by the noise and stir of

departure,

65

Friends coming forth from the house, and impatient of longer

delaying,

Each with his plan for the day, and the work that was left uncompleted.

Then from a stail near at hand, amid exclamations of won

der,

Alden the thoughtful, the careful, so happy, so proud of

Priscilla,

Brought out his snow-white bull, obeying the hand of its

master,

70

Led by a cord that was tied to an iron ring in its nostrils, Covered with crimson cloth, and a cushion placed for a saddle. She should not walk, he said, through the dust and heat of the

noonday;

Nay, she should ride like a queen, not plod along like a

peasant.

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Somewhat alarmed at first, but reassured by the others, Placing her hand on the cushion, her foot in the hand of her

husband,

Gayly, with joyous laugh, Priscilla mounted her palfrey. "Nothing is wanting now," he said with a smile, "but the

distaff;

Then you would be in truth my queen, my beautiful Bertha!"

Onward the bridal procession now moved to their new habitation,

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Happy husband and wife, and friends conversing together. Pleasantly murmured the brook, as they crossed the ford in

the forest,

Pleased with the image that passed, like a dream of love through its bosom,

Tremulous, floating in air, o'er the depths of the azure abysses.

Down through the golden leaves the sun was pouring his

splendors,

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Gleaming on purple grapes, that, from branches above them

suspended,

Mingled their odorous breath with the balm of the pine and the fir-tree.