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.

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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.

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THE PILGRIMS AT ANCHOR.

Amid the storm they sang,

And the stars heard, and the sea;

And the sounding aisles of the dim woods rang

With the anthem of the free!

The ocean eagle soared

From his nest by the white waves' foam,
And the rocking pines of the forest roared;
This was their welcome home.

There were men with hoary hair
Amid that pilgrim band;
Why had they come to wither there,
Away from their childhood's land?

There was woman's fearless eye,

Lit by her deep love's truth;

There was manhood's brow serenely high,
And the fiery heart of youth.

What sought they thus afar?

Bright jewels of the mine?

The wealth of seas? the spoils of war ?—

They sought a faith's pure shrine !

Ay, call it holy ground,

The soil where first they trod :

They have left unstained what there they found—

FREEDOM TO WORSHIP GOD!

FELICIA HEMANS.