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O strong hearts and true! not one went back in the "Mayflower"!
No, not one looked back, who had set his hand to this ploughing!
Soon were heard on board the shouts and songs of the sailors 120
Heaving the windlass round, and hoisting the ponderous anchor.
Then the yards were braced, and all sails set to the west wind, Blowing steady and strong; and the "Mayflower" sailed from the harbor,
Rounded the point of the Gurnet,' and leaving far to the southward
Island and cape of sand, and the Field of the First Encounter,2 125
Took the wind on her quarter, and stood for the open Atlantic,
Borne on the send of the sea, and the swelling hearts of the Pilgrims.
Long in silence they watched the receding sail of the vessel, Much endeared to them all, as something living and hu
Then, as if filled with the spirit, and wrapt in a vision prophetic, 130
Baring his hoary head, the excellent Elder of Plymouth
Mournfully sobbed the waves at the base of the rock, and
1 The headland at the entrance to Plymouth Harbor, seven miles from Marshfield.
2 Before the Pilgrims all landed, a party was sent ashore in a shallop to explore the country, and here they first encountered a body of Indians on Dec. 8, 1620. See Young's Chronicles, p. 159.
3 Acts of the Apostles, xxviii. 15.
Bowed and whispered the wheat on the hill of death, and their kindred
Seemed to awake in their graves, and to join in the prayer that they uttered.
Sun-illumined and white, on the eastern verge of the ocean Gleamed the departing sail, like a marble slab in a graveyard; Buried beneath it lay forever all hope of escaping.
Lo! as they turned to depart, they saw the form of an Indian, Watching them from the hill; but while they spake with each other,
Pointing with outstretched hands, and saying, "Look!" he had vanished.
So they returned to their homes; but Alden lingered a little, Musing alone on the shore, and watching the wash of the billows
Round the base of the rock, and the sparkle and flash of the sunshine,
Like the spirit of God, moving visibly over the waters.' 145
THUS for a while he stood, and mused by the shore of the
Thinking of many things, and most of all of Priscilla;
And as if thought had the power to draw to itself, like the loadstone,
Whatsoever it touches, by subtle laws of its nature,
Lo! as he turned to depart, Priscilla was standing beside him.
"Are you so much offended, you will not speak to me?” said she.
1 Genesis, i. 2.
"Am I so much to blame, that yesterday, when you were pleading
Warmly the cause of another, my heart, impulsive and wayward,
Pleaded your own, and spake out, forgetful perhaps of decorum?
Certainly you can forgive me for speaking so frankly, for saying
What I ought not to have said, yet now I can never unsay it; For there are moments in life, when the heart is so full of emotion,
That if by chance it be shaken, or into its depths like a pebble
Yesterday I was shocked, when I heard you speak of Miles Standish,
Praising his virtues, transforming his very defects into virtues,
Praising his courage and strength, and even his fighting in Flanders,
As if by fighting alone you could win the heart of a
Quite overlooking yourself and the rest, in exalting your hero.
Therefore I spake as I did, by an irresistible impulse. You will forgive me, I hope, for the sake of the friendship between us,
Which is too true and too sacred to be so easily broken!" Thereupon answered John Alden, the scholar, the friend of Miles Standish:
"I was not angry with you, with myself alone I was angry, 25 Seeing how badly I managed the matter I had in my keeping." "No!" interrupted the maiden, with answer prompt and