So from the heights of Will And, as a moment turns its slender rill, Each widening torrent bends, From the same cradle's side, From the same mother's knee, One to long darkness and the frozen tide, One to the Peaceful Sea! ROBINSON OF LEYDEN. He sleeps not here; in hope and prayer Before the Speedwell's anchor swung, "Men, brethren, sisters, children dear! God calls you hence from over sea; Ye may not build by Haerlem Meer, Nor yet along the Zuyder-Zee. "Ye go to bear the saving word To tribes unnamed and shores untrod: Heed well the lessons ye have heard From those old teachers taught of God. "Yet think not unto them was lent "The living fountain overflows For every flock, for every lamb, He spake with lingering, long embrace, With tears of love and partings fond, They floated down the creeping Maas, Along the isle of Ysselmond. They passed the frowning towers of Briel, The "Hook of Holland's" shelf of sand, And grated soon with lifting keel The sullen shores of Fatherland. No home for these! too well they knew The mitred king behind the throne; The sails were set, the pennons flew, And westward ho! for worlds unknown. - And these were they who gave us birth, The Pilgrims of the sunset wave, Who won for us this virgin earth, And freedom with the soil they gave. The pastor slumbers by the Rhine, – In alien earth the exiles lie, Their nameless graves our holiest shrine, His words our noblest battle-cry! Still cry them, and the world shall hear, Ye have not built by Haerlem Meer, Nor on the land-locked Zuyder-Zee! SAINT ANTHONY THE REFORMER. HIS TEMPTATION. No fear lest praise should make us proud! The idle homage of the crowd Is proof of tasks as idly done. A surface-smile may pay the toil That follows still the conquering Right, With soft, white hands to dress the spoil Sing the sweet song of other days, And o'er the present's parching ways Thy verse distils like evening dew. |