LAYS OF THE PILGRIM FATHERS.

THE PILGRIMS' FAREWELL TO ENGLAND.

THE breeze has swelled the whitening sail,
The blue waves curl beneath the gale,
And, bounding with the wave and wind,
We leave Old England's shores behind-
Leave behind our native shore,

Homes, and all we loved before.

The deep may dash, the winds may blow,
The storm spread out its wings of woe,
Till sailors' eyes can see a shroud
Hung in the folds of every cloud :
Still, as long as life shall last,
From that shore we'll speed us fast.

22

THE PILGRIMS' FAREWELL TO ENGLAND.

For we would rather never be,

Than dwell where mind cannot be free,
But bows beneath a despot's rod,
E'en where it seeks to worship God.
Blasts of heaven, onward sweep!
Bear us o'er the troubled deep!

O, see what wonders meet our eyes!
Another land, and other skies!
Columbia's hills have met our view!
Adieu! Old England's shores, adieu!

Here, at length, our feet shall rest,
Hearts be free, and homes be blessed.

As long as yonder firs shall spread
Their green arms o'er the mountain's head—
As long as yonder cliffs shall stand,

Where join the ocean and the land,-
Shall those cliffs and mountains be

Proud retreats for liberty.

T. C. UPHAM.

THE PILGRIMS AT ANCHOR.

THE breaking waves dashed high,

On a stern and rock-bound coast; And the woods, against a stormy sky,

Their giant branches tost; And the heavy night hung dark,

The hills and waters o'er,

When a band of exiles moored their bark

On the wild New England shore.

Not as the conqueror comes,

They, the true-hearted, came;

Not with the stirring roll of drums,

And the trumpet that sings of fame.

Not as the flying come,

In silence and in fear

They shook the depths of the desert gloom

With their hymns of lofty cheer.