Where Puritan, and Cavalier,
With shout and psalm contended;
And Rupert's oath, and Cromwell's prayer,
With battle-thunder blended.

Up rose the ancient stranger then :
"My spirit is not free

To bring the wrath and violence
Of evil men on thee:

"And for thyself, I pray forbear,-
Bethink thee of thy Lord,
Who healed again the smitten ear,
And sheathed his follower's sword.

"I go, as to the slaughter led:
Friends of the poor, farewell!"
Beneath his hand the oaken door,
Back on its hinges fell.

"Come forth, old grey-beard, yea and nay;

The reckless scoffers cried,

As to a horseman's saddle-bow

The old man's arms were tied.

And of his bondage hard and long

In Boston's crowded jail,

Where suffering woman's prayer was heard, With sickening childhood's wail,

It suits not with our tale to tell:

Those scenes have passed away Let the dim shadows of the past Brood o'er that evil day.

"Ho, sheriff!" quoth the ardent priest— "Take goodman Macey too;

The sin of this day's heresy,

His back or purse shall rue."

And priest and sheriff, both together
Upon his threshold stood,

When Macey, through another door,
Sprang out into the wood.

"Now goodwife, haste thee!" Macey cried,

She caught his manly arm :

Behind, the parson urged pursuit,
With outcry and alarm.

Ho speed the Maceys, neck or nought, -
The river course was near:-
The plashing on its pebbled shore
Was music to their ear.

A grey rock, tasseled o'er with birch
Above the waters hung,

And at its base, with every wave,
A small light wherry swung.

A leap they gain the boat- and there

The goodman wields his oar:

"Il luck betide them all"- he cried,"The laggards upon the shore."

Down through the crashing under-wood,
The burly sheriff came :-
"Stand, goodman Macey-yield thyself;
Yield in the King's own name.".

The priest came panting to the shore,-
His grave cocked hat was gone :

Behind him, like some owl's nest, hung
His wig upon a thorn.

"Come back

come back!" the parson cried,

"The church's curse beware."

"Curse an' thou wilt," said Macey, "but

Thy blessing prithee spare."

"Vile scoffer!" cried the baffled priest,

"Thou 'lt yet the gallows see."

"Who's born to be hanged, will not be drowned,"

Quoth Macey merrily;

"And so, sir sheriff and priest, good bye!"

He bent him to his oar,

And the small boat glided quietly

From the twain upon the shore.

Now in the west, the heavy clouds
Scattered and fell asunder,
While feebler came the rush of rain,
And fainter growled the thunder.

And through the broken clouds, the sun
Looked out serene and warm,

Painting its holy symbol-light
Upon the passing storm.

Oh, beautiful! that rainbow span,

O'er dim Crane-neck was bended;

One bright foot touched the eastern hills,
And one with ocean blended.

By green Pentucket's southern slope
The small boat glided fast,-
The watchers of "the Block-house'
The strangers as they passed.

saw

The fisher-wives of Salisbury,

(The men were all away),

Looked out to see the stranger oar
Upon their waters play.

Deer-Island's rocks and fir-trees threw
Their sunset-shadows o'er them,
And Newbury's spire and weathercock
Peered o'er the pines before them.

Around the Black Rocks, on their left,
The marsh lay broad and green;

And on their right, with dwarf shrubs crowned,
Plum Island's hills were seen.

They passed the grey rocks of Cape Ann,
And Gloucester's harbor-bar;

The watch-fire of the garrison
Shone like a setting star.

How brightly broke the morning
On Massachusetts' Bay!

Blue wave, and bright green island,
Rejoicing in the day.

Far round the bleak and stormy Cape
The vent'rous Macey passed,
And on Nantucket's naked isle,

Drew up his boat at last.

And how, in log-built cabin,

They braved the rough sea-weather; And there, in peace and quietness, Went down life's vale together:

How others drew around them,
And how their fishing sped,
Until to every wind of heaven
Nantucket's sails were spread :

How pale want alternated
With plenty's golden smile;
Behold, is it not written

In the annals of the isle ?

And yet that isle remaineth
A refuge of the free,
As when true-hearted Macey
Beheld it from the sea.

Free as the winds that winnow
Her shrubless hills of sand —
Free as the waves that batter
Along her yielding land.

Than hers, at duty's summons,
No loftier spirit stirs, -
Nor falls o'er human suffering

A readier tear than hers.

God bless the sea-beat island!
And grant for evermore,
That charity and freedom dwell,
As now upon her shore !