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The writings of John Greenleaf Whittier, Volume 4. (ed. John Greenleaf Whittier), Personal Poems (search)
His first words, like the prelude notes Of some great anthem yet to swell. We seemed to see our flag unfurled, Our champion waiting in his place For the last battle of the world, The Armageddon of the race. Through him we hoped to speak the word Which wins the freedom of a land; And lift, for human right, the sword Which dropped from Hampden's dying hand. For he had sat at Sidney's feet, And walked with Pym and Vane apart; And, through the centuries, felt the beat Of Freedom's march in Cromwell's heart. He knew the paths the worthies held, Where England's best and wisest trod; And, lingering, drank the springs that welled Beneath the touch of Milton's rod. No wild enthusiast of the right, Self-poised and clear, he showed alway The coolness of his northern night, The ripe repose of autumn's day. His steps were slow, yet forward still He pressed where others paused or failed; The calm star clomb with constant will, The restless meteor flashed and paled! Skilled in its subtlest w
The writings of John Greenleaf Whittier, Volume 4. (ed. John Greenleaf Whittier), The tent on the Beach (search)
ittle distant from the spot where the Hampton Academy now stands, and there she died, unattended. When her death was discovered, she was hastily covered up in the earth near by, and a stake driven through her body, to exorcise the evil spirit. Rev. Stephen Bachiler or Batchelder was one of the ablest of the early New England preachers. His marriage late in life to a woman regarded by his church as disreputable induced him to return to England, where he enjoyed the esteem and favor of Oliver Cromwell during the Protectorate. Rivermouth Rocks are fair to see, By dawn or sunset shone across, When the ebb of the sea has left them free, To dry their fringes of gold-green moss: For there the river comes winding down, From salt sea-meadows and uplands brown, And waves on the outer rocks afoam Shout to its waters, ‘Welcome home!’ And fair are the sunny isles in view East of the grisly Head of the Boar, And Agamenticus lifts its blue Disk of a cloud the woodlands o'er; And southerly, whe