Page images
PDF
EPUB

For firm defence or swift attack;
And him whose friendship formed the tie
Which held the stern self-exile back
From lapsing into savagery;

Whose garb and tone and kindly glance
Recalled a younger, happier day,
And prompted memory's fond essay,
To bridge the mighty waste which lay,
Between his wild home and that gray,
Tall chateau of his native France,
Whose chapel bell, with far-heard din
Ushered his birth hour gaily in,
And counted with its solemn toll,
The masses for his father's soul.

Hark! from the foremost of the band
Suddenly bursts the Indian yell;
For now on the very spot they stand
Where the Norridgewocks fighting fell.
No wigwam smoke is curling there;
The very earth is scorched and bare :
And they pause and listen to catch a sound
Of breathing life - but there comes not one,
Save the fox's bark and the rabbit's bound;
But here and there, on the blackened ground,
White bones are glistening in the sun.
And where the house of prayer arose,
And the holy hymn, at daylight's close,

And the aged priest stood up to bless
The children of the wilderness,

There is nought save ashes sodden and dank;
And the birchen boats of the Norridgewock,
Tethered to tree and stump and rock,
Rotting along the river bank!

Blessed Mary!—who is she
Leaning against that maple tree?
The sun upon her face burns hot,
But the fixed eyelid moveth not;

The squirrel's chirp is shrill and clear
From the dry bough above her ear;
Dashing from rock and root its spray,
Close at her feet the river rushes;
The black-bird's wing against her brushes,
And sweetly through the hazel bushes
The robbin's mellow music gushes;·
God save her! will she sleep alway?

Castine hath bent him over the sleeper:

"Wake daughter ·

wake!"- but she stirs no limb:

The eye that looks on him is fixed and dim ; And the sleep she is sleeping shall be no deeper, Until the angel's oath is said,

And the final blast of the trump goes forth

To the graves of the sea and the graves of earth.
RUTH BONYTHON IS DEAD!

LEGENDARY.

T

THE MERRIMACK.

["THE Indians speak of a beautiful river, far to the South, which they call Merrimack."-SIEUR DE MONTS: 1604.]

STREAM of my fathers! sweetly still
The sunset rays thy valley fill;
Poured slantwise down the long defile,
Wave, wood, and spire beneath them smile.
I see the winding Powow fold

The green hill in its belt of gold,
And following down its wavy line,
Its sparkling waters blend with thine.
There's not a tree upon thy side,
Nor rock, which thy returning tide
As yet hath left abrupt and stark
Above thy evening water-mark;
No calm cove with its rocky hem,
No isle whose emerald swells begem
Thy broad, smooth current; not a sail
Bowed to the freshening ocean gale;
No small boat with its busy oars,
Nor gray wall sloping to thy shores;
Nor farm-house with its maple shade,

Or rigid poplar colonnade,

But lies distinct and full in sight,

Beneath this gush of sunset light.

Centuries ago, that harbor-bar,
Stretching its length of foam afar,
And Salisbury's beach of shining sand,
And yonder island's wave-smoothed strand,
Saw the adventurer's tiny sail

Flit, stooping from the eastern gale;
And o'er these woods and waters broke
The cheer from Britain's hearts of oak,
As brightly on the voyager's eye,
Weary of forest, sea, and sky,
Breaking the dull continuous wood,

The Merrimack rolled down his flood;
Mingling that clear pellucid brook,
Which channels vast Agioochook

When spring-time's sun and shower unlock
The frozen fountains of the rock,

And more abundant waters given

From that pure lake, "The Smile of Heaven,” †

Tributes from vale and mountain side

With ocean's dark, eternal tide!

On yonder rocky cape, which braves
The stormy challenge of the waves,
Midst tangled vine and dwarfish wood,
The hardy Anglo-Saxon stood,
Planting upon the topmost crag
The staff of England's battle-flag ;
And, while from out its heavy fold
Saint George's crimson cross unrolled,
Midst roll of drum and trumpet blare,

And weapons brandishing in air,
He gave to that lone promontory

The sweetest name in all his story;

*The celebrated Captain Smith, after resigning the government of the colony in Virginia, in his capacity of "Admiral of New England," made a careful survey of the coast from Penobscot to Cape Cod, in the summer of 1614.

† Lake Winnipiseogee — The Smile of the Great Spirit—the source of one of the branches of the Merrimack.

Capt. Smith gave to the promontory, now called Cape Ann, the name of

« PreviousContinue »