Puslapio vaizdai

New Why had they come to wither there,
Away from their childhood's land?
There was woman's fearless eye,

World and Old


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 have left unstained what there they


Freedom to worship God.


The Twenty-second of December*

Wild was the day; the wintry sea

Moaned sadly on New England's strand,
When first the thoughtful and the free,
Our fathers, trod the desert land.

They little thought how pure a light,

With years, should gather round that day;

* By courtesy of D. Appleton & Co., publishers of Bryant's Complete Poetical Works.

How love should keep their memories bright,
How wide a realm their sons should sway.

Green are their bays; but greener still

Shall round their spreading fame be wreathed, And regions, now untrod, shall thrill

With reverence when their names are breathed,

Till where the sun, with softer fires,
Looks on the vast Pacific's sleep,

The children of the Pilgrim sires
This hallowed day like us shall keep.

New World

and Old Glory


Soldier and statesman, rarest unison;
High-poised example of great duties done
Simply as breathing, a world's honors worn
As life's indifferent gifts to all men born;
Dumb for himself, unless it were to God,
But for his barefoot soldiers eloquent,
Tramping the snow to coral where they trod,
Held by his awe in hollow-eyed content;
Modest, yet firm as Nature's self; unblamed
Save by the men his nobler temper shamed;
Never seduced through show of present good
By other than unsetting lights to steer

New New-trimmed in Heaven, nor than his steadfast World

and Old



More steadfast, far from rashness as from fear;
Rigid, but with himself first, grasping still
In swerveless poise the wave-beat helm of will;
Not honored then or now because he wooed
The popular voice, but that he still withstood;
Broad-minded, higher-souled, there is but one
Who was all this and ours, and all men's,—


From "Under the Old Elm."

Warren's Address

Stand! the ground's your own, my braves!

Will ye give it up to slaves?

Will ye look for greener graves?

Hope ye mercy still?

What's the mercy despots feel?

Hear it in that battle peal!
Read it on yon bristling steel!
Ask it, ye who will!

Fear ye foes who kill for hire?
Will ye to your homes retire?
Look behind you! they're afire,
And, before you, see

Who have done it!-From the vale

On they come!-and will ye quail?-
Leaden rain and leaden hail

Let their welcome be!

In the God of battles trust!
Die we may, and die we must;
But oh, where can dust to dust
Be consigned so well,

As where Heaven its dews shall shed
On the martyred patriot's bed,

And the rocks shall raise their head

Of his deeds to tell!

New World and Old Glory


Carmen Bellicosum

In their ragged regimentals
Stood the old Continentals,
Yielding not,

When the grenadiers were lunging,
And like hail fell the plunging

Cannon shot;

When the files

Of the isles,

From their smoky night encampment, bore the

banner of the rampant



World and Old


And grummer, grummer, grummer, roll'd the roll

of the drummer,

Through the morn!

Then with eyes to the front all,
And guns horizontal,

Stood our sires;

And the balls whistled deadly,
And in streams flashing redly

Blazed the fires;

As the roar

On the shore,

Swept the strong battle-breakers o'er the green sodded acres

Of the plain;

And louder, louder, louder, cracked the black gunpowder,

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