l&RjidS fe^«i/- M, ^\ im Class _iS3S3JL_ Book ,Egf P5 Gopyiiglit]^°__flIiL_ COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT. THE PILGRIMS THE PILGRIMS An Epical Interpretation By ISAAC C. KETLER New York Chicago Toronto Fleming H. Rev ell Company London and Edinburgh Copyright, 1910, by ISAAC C. KETLER New York: 158 Fifth Avenue Chicago: 80 Wabash Avenue Toronto: 25 Richmond Street, W. London: 21 Paternoster Square Edinburgh: 100 Princes Street iCl.A2C.S9:-i6 Introduction THIS book covers fourteen years of the history of the Pilgrim Fathers. It is an interpretation of their character and an attempted revelation of the motives which im- pelled them to withdraw from the Church of Eng- land. It deals with the faith which inspired plain English yeomen to undertake a task which men everywhere now regard as colossal. The story of the Separatist Church, founded by John Eobinson and others, is a part of the history of the Protestant Eeformation. It is a story within a story. It is the record of the determination of men within the Church of England to go the full length in realizing the highest ideals of the Re- formers. These ideals involved entire emancipa- tion from ecclesiastical tyranny and from certain hurtful Romish practices, which the Church of England still retained and enjoined upon the laity. Against all such the early Dissenters, if not openly, then secretly, inveighed. Calvin, and his doctrines, embodied their best thought and highest purposes. In sincere loyalty to God, and the Reformed Faith, they renounced membership in the Church of Eng- land, and, acting on what they believed to be a divine prerogative, established an Independent Body, or " Church Estate." 5 6 INTRODUCTION What the Magna Charta had merely promised, Calvin and the Keformed Faith fulfilled. The po- litical significance of Calvin's religious creed finds its best expression in the general doctrine of the Sovereignty of God and the pakity of men. This was a decided menace to all theories of the divine right of kings. To hold Calvin's doctrine was in the highest degree treasonable. Breaches of the Act of Uniformity (in the externals of wor- ship), which Queen Elizabeth had so solemnly con- demned, her successor, James the Fii'st, was ready to punish with unprisonment, and with death. The story, as here told, is, therefore, incidentally a defense of Calvin, and his creed. The charge, that the Sovereignty of God bulks so large in the Calvinistic system as to imperil Xhefreedmn of man, can be sustained only on the ground of very old- fashioned and crude metaphysics. There is no clash between the accepted philosophical concepts of to-day and the fundamental tenets of Calvin. Much of misunderstanding has come of the effort to harmonize his doctrine of predestination with crude and impossible metaphysical notions. Some- thing is also due to a mechanical psychology, which made much of faculty theories, wherein foreknowl- edge and predestination were treated as distinct and actually separable things, or acts, — as much so, as if they were the operations of quite different organs, ov faculties, of the divine mind. It will aid to a better understanding of Calvin's INTRODUCTION 7 Creed to keep in mind, that neither J^oreknowl- edge, nor predestination, is a diviiie act. Such acts can be fore, or pre, to us only, and within experi- ence, which experience is, of course, temporal. It will also soften one's natural asperity towards the doctrine of predestination to take into account how really small a factor the human initiative is. I will not anticipate. The story, and why given this form, is the main intent of this introduction. The reader may ask in the language of the King and the Book, " Why take the artistic way to prove so much ? " Browning provides also the answer, — " Art remains the one way possible of speaking truth, to mouths like mine at least " ! This is equivalent to an observation of Aristotle's, that the superiority of poetry over history consists in its possessing a higher truth. Certainly one may add, it excels in bringing to the apprehending heart truths which the intellect alone will never grasp, — the essences, rather than the accidents of great deeds, or labours. Why, then, this way ? Because this is the only way to speak the truth, that is the real truth. The attempt has been to catch " the breath and finer spirit " of this story. So far as this is real- ized, it is art, or poetry. I make bold to claim that the interpretation I have given of this heroic Pilgrim-Action does measurably reveal " the breath and finer spirit," that the heart is reached and re- warded in a way unknown to history, or mere prose recital, and that therefore "the artistic way" is justified. 8 INTRODUCTION The ohjective, that is, the accidental, is the rela- tively little in the story of the Pilgrim Fathers. That which the work-day eye fails to see, that which filters out on the pages of history, and is lost to the heart, is the thing, or essence, of abiding worth in the tale I have attempted to tell. Beginning with the rise of the Independent, or Separatist, Church, at Scrooby, in a. d. 1606, the story follows the course of the Pilgrim Fathers from their flight to Holland in 1608 to their land- ing at Plymouth, New England, in 1620. The book is divided into six parts, — The Flight (the rise of the Pilgrims, largely at or near Scrooby, England, and their departure for Hol- land) ; — The Pilgrims' Egypt (Holland, and es- pecially Leyden, in the times of Prince Maurice and John Barneveldt ; the warring religious fac- tions, Arminianism versus Calvinism) ; — The Pil- grims' Olympus (Geneva, and John Calvin's in- fluence ; the doctrine of Predestination, and its effect on the Pilgrims) ; — The Departure (the embarkation at Delfshaven) ; — A Tale of the Sea (the Mayflower voyage and the incident of the Jackscrew) ;— The Landing (the signing of the Compact and the choice of Plymouth). The book deals with truth, that is, with motives, feelings, aspiratioris, not with the objective, the merely adventitious. The main action is set forth in blank verse. The use of lyrics, for the most part germane to the progress of the story, is partly for variety, and partly because the feelings found INTRODUCTION 9 their expression at times more readily in this way. During the many years I have meditated this tale I have at no time been able to divest my mind of the sincere conviction, that the Pilgrim move- ment is the greatest epic-action of the modern world, a theme well worthy of a Homer, or a Milton. " But is this poetry ? " T answer the skeptic, — It reaches my heart, and gives me truth, a some- thing which I could not otherwise apprehend, not accidental matters of birth and biography (life, dates and death), but certain vital and deeper mo- tions, as of the eternal spirit of truth, goodness, no- bility, God, mo^^ng on to a divine goal of victory or triumph. The story, as told here, has this qual- ity (at least for me), not in any one line, or stanza, or book, but in the whole, — the unitary, indivi- sible march of truth from Scrooby to New Eng- land. I. C. K. Grove City, Pa., August, 1910. Dedication If like fair orchids I perceived them bloom, And with poetic fragrance, nor have doom Of ruthless critics' scorn, (and yet far worse, Their silence), I would dedicate in verse These Pilgrim Khymes to one I long have known, So worthy of all praise, whose deeds are sown Like manna in the desert of this life. But since this may not be, the chance, so rife With all uncertainty, I will not share "With any. Each must face his doom with blare, Or without noise, of trumpets. Who foresees The praise or blame, the sad futilities. Or fruits, of expectation ? Oft the lure Tempts far beyond man's might or measure, sure To miss the aureole. His soul soars high. His feet are chained to earth, and hence the sigh, — God help my witless hand ! Would he not strive, This man, if Art, so coy, should keep alive His soul, — if in the offing of his mind Sailed magic argosies, fair ships, by wind 11 12 DEDICATION And tide brought nearer, pledges of a day Of triumph ? What high ecstasy this ray Of hope to write one's name with Angelo's ! AVould not Urania say, " My Child " ? Who knows A joy like this ? Not he, whose burden's weight Of frustrate aspiration crowns his fate With odorous rue and — cypress ! On the lees His spirit's wine drains shallow ; sad he sees His youthful visions vanish. Beckoned him Parnassus ? Nay, but he had seen a dim Mirage of mountains ! Fancy with her brood Of airy nothings filled his mind, and, rude Or chaste, beguiled him. Ah, full well I know, Man's will outruns his can, and, seeing so, I eat my heart alone ! Will any tell How these, my lines, shall fare, — or ill, or well ? Contents PAfiB THE PROLOGUE 15 BOOK I THE FLIGHT The Origin of the Pilgrims ; Runnymede and Scrooby ; Establishing of the Independent Church ; The Wrath of King James ; The Flight to Holland ; The Epilogue, — The Story's Launched . . 21 BOOK II THE PILGRIMS' EGYPT Holland in the Times of the Pilgrims ; Leyden, the Asylum ; Prince Maurice and John of Barneveldt ; Warring Factions, — Arminianism Versus Calvin- ism ; The Synod ofDort and the Condemnation of Barneveldt ; The Execution of the Great Com- moner ; Brave Holland, — Princess Fair ; The Epilogue 37 BOOK III THE PILGRIMS' OLYMPUS The Jupiter of Europe ; The Scare- Word, Predestina- tion ; The Little Cloud — a Redaction with Original Stanzas ; William Prince of Orange on the Stage ; The Magna Charta, a Flickering Taper ; Calvin's Creed, a Sun ; The Freedom of the Will ; Leyden, Loved of God ; Bring Crowns ; The Man, — His Body, Beryl ; Two Pilgrims of Later Times ; The Death and Burial of Arminius ; God's Bluchers at ths Leyden Gates; The Epilogue . . .61 13 14 CONTENTS BOOK IV THE DEPARTURE Sunrise on the Alps, — A Figure ; Gallia's Son ; A Dying Nation ; All that Is Abides Timeless and Spaceless ; The Pilgrims' Sense of a Divinely Or- dered Way ; What Might Have Been, — The Commingling of Bloods ; Embarkation of the Pil- grims at the Delft ; The Epilogue . . . loi BOOKV A TALE OF THE SEA Out and Out on a Boundless Sea ; Creed-and-Calvin Haters; Choice of the Mayflower ; The Firstlings of the Flock ; No Darwinian Chance ; God Planned (Predestinated) the Flight ; The Equi- noctial Storm ; The Wrested Beam ; The Jack- screw ; A Pilgrim's Forethought, or God's De- cree ; Space and Time Mere Mental Forms ; The Philosophical Creed Explained ; Sighting Land ; Paroxysmal Joy ; The Epilogue . . .123 BOOK VI THE LANDING A Surcease Sigh ; Joy Like a Stream ; Psalms of Praise ; A Stone Cut Out of the Mountains ; Art's Field ; Houseless and Shelterless on New England Shores ; Gentlemen Adventurers ; I Laugh a Strange Laugh ; A Song Within a Song ; If from God's Word New Light Should Break ; The Mayflower Cabin ; Signing the Compact ; Character Sketches, — Individual Pilgrims ; The Epilogue . • ^53 Prologue Ho, hear my Pilgrim Story fraught With marvels ! You will hear ? Since all Seems dimly charactered, and naught Eemains but memories, I call Before you on the printed page. Resummon to enact anew, In mimic measures tread the stage, As once the Pilgrims in full view Of God and man counted nor life Nor death of consequence, while truth Lay prone. Here see the bitter strife Of warring faiths, the tender ruth Of right ever enthralled, (the key, A dirgelike minor, ^ane but sad), Ay, more, the changeless choice to be What God counts noblest, even glad To die, if so perchance they lift The torch of liberty, where eyes Straining for light may somehow sift 16 i6 THE PILGRIMS The false from true, stifle the sighs, (Assuage the griefs), of soul-tried men ; And if God will, on western shores, Shed wide His saving truth, as when The sky, its stars the golden doors Of light, enspheres a Continent, And men quick say, " Behold, from sea To sea the sky's begemmed ! " Intent To tell this tale, how it might be, (And was), — so limn it large — much did I read ; nor aught three centuries' dust In yellow leaf or tome had hid From prying eyes, but just this crust, Or crumb, as in the very nick Of time, (the ready at a pinch), Lay bare, — perked, presto ! to the prick Of light, as helped by hands ; and inch By inch, or better, line by liae. Said, " Take me, try my worth ; I've lain Embosomed in the dust of time To serve your need, — predestined e'en To find my proper place ! " Upborne, As by a hand, steady and strong, I, days and days listless and lorn. 1 PROLOGUE 17 Now felt the thrill, as haled along By an invisible brotherhood, (Whether in me, you shall not know, Or out of me), this same bestood Me strong, daily in gloom and glow Of now this truth, now that, to carve My Phoebus ! I was fain to find Not witless, work-day facts which starve The soul, or bUght the better mind, And laugh back to man's very face His serious sense of deeper things, — Nay, I was rather wont to trace Invisible lines, and that which brings The lilied light and contour brave Out of their hiding, (hidden from such As cannot see), perchance to save My soul ! Then on I read ; and much Which once was all-engrossing fact Now seemed but foothills to the Mount, Which, peak on peak, was all compact Of strength and meaning. I recount. How, when the separating veil Was rent, which hides the glint and glow. And light and loveliness, and trail i8 THE PILGRIMS On trail of glory gilded low And high, the strings, which brace the heart, "Were sorely tensioned, while the breath Came quickly, or in lulls apart, For I had seen my Phoebus ! Death With all his power to turn man's night To day, and work mysterious change, Where all seems changeless, sheds no light But darkles in the noon of strange Illuminations lit within. My light had come ! And while I gazed, As through a fleecy cloudlet, thin As vapour, there, in outline, raised Above rocks, boulders, spalls of stone And quarry-refuse, tone and tint To match its metric meaning, lone, Uplifted, forth it stood, no hint Or trace o' the sculptor's art, perfect, Hence peerless, — I had linked my soul To life ! I felt its large effect In me, — could see illumed the whole, Yet hitherto unseen, import Of men and women tempest-tossed, Afloat oil wintry seas, their port PROLOGUE 19 Far distant from proud Albion's coast. Then the blood mounted to my brow ; And I saw clearly at a glance Art's possibility, and how, As if by some lame, changeling chance, My soul had life ! From the sad tale Of silent suffering outburst My Phoebus, fair and line, a veil Scarce screening stalwart souls, who erst Inspired the living, breathing deeds Of centuries past ! In truth, I saw Them huddled on the marshy meads Which form the Humber's banks, the law Enforced by catchpoll-priests, and how In fealty to the faith they spurned A tyrant's meed, the solemn vow, The hasty flight, their faces turned To Leyden with its gates ajar. I saw them, souls one hundred two, Life, Hope, and Destiny, afar From kindred, (wives and sweethearts too). Youths, children, chattels, tools of craft. Embarked in one small boat, intent To tempt wild winds, (all Neptune's wrath),- 20 THE PILGRIMS Precursors of new light anent The night's deep veil of error I I Picked from many a shard and shred, Gritty and grained, now low, now high, This truth, then that, as fancy led, To form the plinth, or base, of Art's Emprise, the column's foot or hold. Whence the entablature, which starts "With architrave, then frieze, then mold, (Ever my Phoebus full in view). The while driven from pillar to post By treadmill grind of old and new, When, lo, as by an unseen host, (Invisible bkotherhood, in me, Or out of me), I was made strong ! Felt the blood tingle in me free As air, at floodtide rush along Its channels, turn pallor to red. And cry, " Set Phoebus free, unbolt The granite doors ! " This my heart said,- BlVE THE FETTERS,— THE POORS UNBOLT ! BOOK I The Flight The Theme, — The Flight finds the Pilgrims on the banks of the Humber in the act of embarkiug for Holland. The King's officers (catchpolls), are in hot pursuit, and in fear of arrest the Pilgrims are hastily leaving the land for the ship which is to con- vey them to a place of safety. The story reverts to the suspension of the Rev. John Robinson and others from the Church by the Bishop of Yarmouth under the edict of Queen Elizabeth. Two historic scenes, widely separated in time, are contrasted, — the one at Runnymede, June 15, 1215 A. d., and the one at ScROOBY, almost four hundred years later, where the Separatists, or Pilgrim Fathers, refused to wor- ship at the behest of King James, the successor of Queen Elizabeth. James the First is represented as the Herod and Tyrant of his day. The Flight closes with the scene on the banks of the Humber, A. D., 1607. The Flight England, farewell ! with griefs heart-laden, years On years aweary, clad in aching woe. Far other lands invite the harried Pilgrims ; Empire waits their onward march and slow. England, farewell ! But oh, love's dearth and deadness ! Hearts of pity, bowels and mercies, none ; England, farewell ! Beyond the seas are waiting Fame and crowns for deeds which these have done. England, farewell ! Unkind in all the ages. Harsh to truth ere yet its humble cause Has gained the guerdon ; then how strong to foster Its fair fame by just and equal laws ! Stand on the marshy meads which form the banks O' the Humber. See huddled as if to break The North Wind's blast a Pilgrim Band intent To do a deed of daring. Note the deep Distress, the feverish haste, the anxious mien, 23 24 THE PILGRIMS As husbands, wives, and children, driven by dark Extremes, with chattels, tools of craft, now seek Asylum far beyond the seas ! And place Your ear close down upon the firmer earth, — The far reverberating, telltale tread And tramp of hostile feet, the clattering hoofs Of horsemen hot upon the chase, and feel The blood freeze in your veins, while pallors blanch The sternest face ! But — thereby hangs a tale : John Eobinson, a man of purpose and Of life akin to Christ's, a priest far famed For purity and strength, had heard the voice Of God. The thought had grown, that he whom truth Makes free is free indeed ; that prisons, stakes. And scaffolds are but stages in the march Of civil and religious liberty. As on from Kunnymede men's visions were Of larger liberty to be, to do. To worship God, to stand approved or no By conscience, and deny the claim of priest Or king to hold in fee the souls of men. Or lay, by right divine, upon men's mouths The hand ! THE FLIGHT 25 Will you hear it, as oft men speak In reminiscent moods, and bulk things large ? Will it weary the genial guest, perchance The host, well-meaning, weight the passing hour With truth's matter-of-fact display of how Came this, and that ? How else find pedestal For art's emprise ? Long telltale years, and back You stand in Yarmouth Church, and hear in harsh. Yet solemn words, the English Bull, which lays Arresting hands, profane and rude withal. Upon the spirit of the times, alike To friend and foe makes known the sinister will Of her who by the right divine rules all, (In truth, all England's hordes), and deftly cries, " The Church, the Church, the Church ! God save the Church ! Let all the people know, that thus and thus They'll worship God, or hear the Bull, and pay The price of queenly wrath,— ay, die unchurched, Unshrived, and damned to penal pains ! " But hear The language of the brave Compeers : " We are Not careful to observe your laws, — we stand For truth and conscience ! " 26 THE PILGRIMS Ever thus in brave Defiance answered they the Queen's commands, And timely warning too, through Catchpolls, Priests, And predatory Prelates. Now the end Is near ! Two scenes ! The one at Eunnymede, — Where Barons, Lords, and Prelates, cowled and grave. Archbishops, Bishops, Abbots, Primate, all In martial ranks, (God's Army), stand ; and fair Upon the field of this same Kunnymede With stern design the tents of battle pitch, While broken, balked and bale, (a baited beast), And trembling like a harried hound, himself Uncurbed subverter of the nation's laws, — Eank, ribald kavisher, and fiendish foe To freedom, purity and faith, comes now King John, (the trysting place as said), blanched, pale. His face all sicklied o'er with glints from hell. To grant reluctant what the Baeons craved ! And this was in the annals of the Christ, Twelve Hundred Ten and Five, and on a day In June 1 What simpering, silly schoolgirl trips THE FLIGHT 27 Upon the date ? Who knows not, how a day In June, when English meadows, lanes and lawns "Were spread with primrose blooms, and all the air Was rich in eglantine and odorous rue, That Langton and the troubled Barons sought, In truth's defense, from base, reluctant John, A CHARTER, (symbol, say, of what all men Would die to gain), a parchment- written sign Of the deep yearnings of the heart, whate'er May be the name, or colour, of the tribes That people this sad earth ? A SYMBOL 't was, — A SIGN ! Nor else to those four centuries down Must meekly worship at the beck and nod Of Good Queen Bess, with all obeisance yield, Or bear the brunt and burthen of a bull, A righteous bull, in spite of all the rights The Barons won on far-famed Kunnymede ! Ah, frailty, (human expectation), why So vam? Why fall to earth the towers of hope? The LIGHT aflare upon a darkling June, With royal promise of approaching dawn. Had flickered to its fail ! Nay, Runnymede Was but a sign. The thing, so signified, Was hence some centuries ! 28 THE PILGRIMS The SECOND scene's At ScROOBY, justly famed for one brave deed, — Mere Manor town ! So shall the ages speak To ages yet to be and tell how men Triumphant in the face of fear said, " ISTo ! " To Kings and Prelates : " No ! we constitute A Church Estate, prerogative and right Divine ; in sacred fellowship with Him We serve, we dare to stand for purity And liberty of faith ! " They answered, " No ! " And lo, the kingly wrath ! Yet by said " No ! " Proclaimed, that kings, no less than scullions, shall Obey God's law ; that right is right, and law Is law ; that in His sight the meanest serf's The peer of any crowned king. Just so They fed the wrath of men who served the Church, And served it with the zeal of shrif ted saints ; For was not James the Church ? And are not Priests And Prelates lawful vassals of the Church ? Ay, ScROOBY, in our hearts we crown thee great, (Sequestered though) ; for was it not in thee A truth stood up and thundered. No ! while all The MINIONS of the Church bore swiftly down THE FLIGHT 29 With fiendish hate and Titan-steength ? Heart joins With heart to crown thee great; for where has TRUTH, Unblanched, stood front to front with deadlier foe, And faithful as the Hebrew Children faced The FIERY FURNACE, stout and brave, nor feared To hurl the challenge in his royal teeth, — Truth's answer to King James ? This length to tell The part truth plays? How Calvin's creed, (I call It not great Calvin's creed, but God's), a truth Incarnate once, made thrones to tremble, kings To stand knock-kneed, and nations long enthralled To see a Bethlehem-star arise to guide The Magi-barque as far o'er seas it sailed ? This STAR had Kobinson at Scrooby seen,— A dim prophetic light far in the East, As when night's tapers all save it burnt out Above the highest peaks rises the morn. With snood of gold and sandals gray, ready To wake the labours of the various day ! Ay, with the ebb of night and error rose A STAR, like Phosphor in the East, to tell 2,0 THE PILGRIMS The traveller the night is waninij, Is at the dawn ! Young Hesper led his flock of stars Into the night's deep blue ; His shepherd's crook was the golden bars That foUow the Sun's adieu. And on and on through the starlit night He wended his westward way, TiU lo, in the East he was Phosphor bright, The herald of dawn and of day. But the starry flock, where feeds it now, In Arcady, loved of Pan ? Ah, folded safe in the skies, I trow. While the gentle zephyrs fan The Shepherd to rest in the downy bed Prepared by the full-orbed Sun ; But again from the fold will the flock be led, "When the starless day is done. If when the early quicks And hawthorn hedge-rows scent the air, you walk By ScROOBY Water, where it winds its way Out from the branching ebns, so rich and green, And follow dowTi its graceful, winding banks, Until it joins the Idle, — reft of care You spend the day aramble o'er the farms THE FLIGHT 31 And pastoral plains of Scrooby and behold The simple ways of rural, inland folk, The quiet of a sleepy parish, you Will scarce believe, that full three centuries back A DEED was here, which in its lofty height Makes kingly acts seem humble ! Time, dost thou Not bring, in thy rich harvestings, to all Mankind the herb of grace, — the bitter rue ? E'en so farewell to Scrooby ! Midst its scenes The Pilgrims first beheld the light. Here lived, And loved, brave youths and fairest maidens. Here They plighted troth with sweethearts whom they chose For better or for worse. With aching hearts, And oft, they laid beneath the greening turf The sacred forms of dearest kin, at length To drink the cup — and seek a far-off home. Where all the precious Scrooby scenes would be Mere pictures of the sad, unquiet mind, — Such as this dream of home : A broad green sward and a laughing rill ; A farmhouse shaded Avith branching ehns ; A milldam flanked with willow trees, And sheepcotes trim and the dusty mill ; 32 THE PILGRIMS And just above where the land and sky Make wall and roof for the arching dome, A forest fringe completes the scene, — 'T is a vision. Sir, of my childhood's home ! A long sand-bar and the sea's low moan ; Dull sodden weeds and treeless wastes ; A windy wold and drifting dunes. Gray sea-gulls calling, — and I ? Alone ! And oh, the sense of the loved and lost. The flood of years, — and the changed estate ! I long to stand, as a child I stood, With a heart of joy at the rose-wreathed gate. Stand on the banks O' the slowly moving Humber, where it bends And southward takes its journey to the sea, And ask what men and women these in sore Distress, with children and with store, and why The anxious, care-worn look, the hurried mien. The hasty flight with Herod on their track ? Ay, Herod on the track ! And in his zeal To kill the infant Child, and save the Church And Kingdom of Misrule, out-Herods all The Herods of the race, — would harrow, haunt. And hale to noisome dungeons and to death These Josephs and these Marys ! THE FLIGHT 33 How a light Illumines the opaque o'erhanging clouds, And hands outstretched, as from a beaconing bourne. Welcome the footsore Pilgrims ! All intent They see beyond their sea-girt shores peace spread White wings, and strife slow-silenced into hush, While near at hand, ay, pressing close as if To baffle in the last essay of hope Rush pell-mell minions of the law ! With wives And little ones they come to Humber's banks To do the deed which makes our history great, And save from Herod's clutch the infant Child By flight to foreign shores ; so proving men Are BORN" TO do great deeds, and great deeds make Men great ! The story's launched and on its way ! How will it end ? Will any man Predict the outcome, safely say. Whether or not the venture can Rise to a climax, — reach the height Of an Epic, grandly lift, or loom, 34 THE PILGRIMS In Appian-broad highway of light, Till it reaches the burning noon Of popular blaze ? Such things have been Why not again ? In Roman lore Plaudite comes with noisy din After the act, and not before. Just see the curtain fall, my friend ! Stilted and stiff the lines may seem ; Yet save your breath, and see the end ; For, as the story runs, I ween, Iambic feet will travel slow Through many weary lines, — let be ! Perchance before the critics know. They'll see the tripping, light trochee Liven the lines, temper the tone, — Shadow and shine anent each other For contrast ! This device, I own Is Art's. So, gay and grave, as brother To brother, — a choriamb in thought And word ! How shall I say ? I say It now ! I vary my lines, but not To please book-critics in the pay Of makers and venders of salable ware, THE FLIGHT 35 (A penny a line, or some such fee), Whose love for Art is the heavy care Its worth in dollars and cents may be. I write as I please, (just suit myself), Reckless of what the critics say, Eeckless of bookmen's promise of pelf ; I sing my song, or lisp my lay. And hear the shards drop from the rock. While ever my Phoebus mutely pleads, " Unbar the door of the granite block ! " Lilting the while, or no, as needs ! BOOK II The Pilgrims' Egypt The Theme,— The Pilgrims' Egypt is a por- trayal of the leading characters, and a setting forth of the political and religious conditions of Holland, and especially of Leydeu, during and immediately pre- ceding the sojourn of the Pilgrims at Leyden. Arminius and his party in the Church, known as the Eemonstrants, were openly opposed to the doctrines of Calvin, as held by Gomarus and other exponents of the Eeformed Faith. In the political arena there were pitted as antagonists. Prince Maurice, son of William, Prince of Orange, and John of Barneveldt, the great and noble Dutch Commoner. The former allied himself with the Gomarists (or Calvinists), for the political advantage the stronger religious faction afforded him. The latter (John Barneveldt) was con- sistently counted with the opposing side. The Pil- grims arrived at Leyden from Amsterdam just a few weeks after the death of Arminius (1609), and naturally allied themselves with the Gomarists, or Calvinist party. John Eobinson, the leader, was active in his support of the Calvinists, giving a series of lectures at the Leyden University in defense of this faith. John of Barneveldt was a menace to the polit- ical aspirations of Prince Maurice. He had, by rare diplomatic skill, brought about a truce with Spain, and thus a cessation of war, to cover a period of twelve years. This was a great relief to the peo- ple, but a sore disappointment to Prince Maurice, who saw that by continuing the struggle his chance of establishing himself as Statholder or King of Holland would be greatly enhanced. The Pilgrims' Egypt Safe, safe, safe, Beyond the reach of fear ! Safe, safe, safe ! They find the one thing dear ; — The right to worship as they may, The dawn of freedom's ampler day ! Safe, safe, safe ! Brave Leyden bids them come. Safe, safe, safe ! In heart and creed they're one ; "Wide-open gates, loved Leyden's meed ; She welcomes Pilgrims in their need. Safe, safe, safe ! They turn their faces East. Safe, safe, safe ! Though king, catchpoll and priest, In wrath and rage, a pilgrim band Proscribe and harry from the land ! Safe, safe, safe ! Let the Herods howl with rage ; Safe, safe, safe ! The Titans of the age To Leyden's gates a pilgrim band As puppets come, as Princes stand ! 39 40 THE PILGRIMS Arrived in Egypt Princes, erst Mere puppets at Sceooby, rapt by God's good grace From Herod and his Predatory Priests, With birdlike wisdom follow the lure, and lo, Leyden appears, circled with wall and moat. While out from Turret and Keep peer eyes, — " What men. In haste, as 'twixt the sinking sun and our Embattlements, with reverend mien, loom large As Titans 'gainst the deepening sky ? " These are A hero-race come in the nick of time To save your City and — save you ! As birds Unerring find the chartless track, guided By Him who cares if one shall fail, they come To Leyden, — lo, the lure has saved ! Dark with the falling snow, Reft of the sunlit glow. The sky looks down with sombre face and drear. As from its nesting N'orthland brake or brere A bird abandoned, in the sky alone, Wings Southward to its heath-clad height or home. THE PILGRIMS' EGYPT 41 Mariner of the mist, The One who ever wist The track on which the shining stars shall run, He'll guide thee till thine airy race is done. Lone wanderer over desert land, and sea, God gives the inner light and lure to thee. Now had You been at Leyden, quaint Dutch town, when brave John Barneveldt and crafty Maurice, bold Ambitious Prince, for masteries chose sides ; Each great, a leader, this intent on war. That one for peace, but both for God, if but To be for God mean liberty of faith And conscience and the death of Spanish rule In every part of Holland ; — nay, if you Could there have heard the shout of joy which rose From eighty thousand lusty throats, when good John Barneveldt and those who stood with him For peace forced deftly from King Philip, KNAVE, The civil and religious rights which long Had been denied, or trampled 'neath his base. Unhallowed feet, you scarce would need to ask, Nor would it need be told the reason, why These Josephs and these Marys in their flight 42 THE PILGRIMS From Herod's cruel wrath chose Leyden as Their Egypt, — saved the Infant Child ! And this Was Leyden, Sixteen Hundred Nine ! The time Was Spring. IS'ot yet the farms and pastoral plains Had bourgeoned with the quick of early blooms, Though birds had come. Upon the verdant meads, Dotted with cowslips, drooping April poured Its early rains, and far as eyes might see. In well-earned peace and quiet, stretched fair farms, — Houses, Churches, (their roofs a vivid red) ; Here dykes and dunes, there blue canals, and far Inland, on windy heights or sluggish streams, Windmills with long, laborious arms fanning The sky, the while grazing in sleepy herds Sleek cattle roamed a-fattening on the lea ; — Such scenes greeted the Pilgrims' eyes, when lo, Leyden appeared ! Far-famed for deeds and daring, crowned and clad With honour, brave asylum ! In the march Of TRUTH thou standest aye a beacon, — torch The path to light and freedom, as thou didst It for thine own ! THE PILGRIMS' EGYPT 43 And Barneveldt ! Well didst Thou face the foe, that once again the fields Might turn responsive to the share, and flocks With whitening fleece and bins of garnered grain Give forth their increase to the marts, while peace And LIBERTY as erst become anew The franchise of the land ! Great Commoner And Prince Plebeian, hail ! If aught can joy Thy heart of all that makes for mortal weal With listening ear regard earth's salvos. Hear Men speak thy praise in every clime. Inscribed On during tablets read how thou didst stand For peace unswerved, despite the rabble's rage, — A peace not parlous, (crowned with shame), but peace With honour to the land and to the name Of Barneveldt ! Now, that was this way : Bold, Ambitious Maurice fain " would force the fight, — Would teach the Spaniards what war means, would spurn To higgle-haggle for uncertain peace. While to the land remains arbitrament Of arms ! " Not so, John Barneveldt, foremost In councils, wise in statecraft, great in all 44 THE PILGRIMS That makes man great, where men stand hero-high On every hand, — a patriot so true, That life to him seemed noways half so dear As the well-being of his Netherlands. Deep pained he saw the horror and the waste Of war, — fair blossoming fields, and herds, and flocks Of snowy whiteness fade from lowland plains, A vision of the past ! And fears grew strong. That zeal to punish knaves might in its own Excess and failing strength, (for now the years Drew on), incline Dutch yeomen long in wars To yield obeisance and accept a peace Not free from shame, might in distrust of means Whereby to drive King Philip from the land Accept a lighter yoke, ere long to weigh Like frost and kill the sense of liberty In erstwhile brave Dutch hearts. John Barneveldt, From the far land of light, hearken ! Thy name's Among the heroes ! Fame libations pours. And quaifs thee beakers of the ruby wine Of chivalry. Thou wast a princelike man, A kingly yeoman ! Thou didst lay thine all On freedom's altar. Gibes of " coward " slink Away, base things abhorred of truth, they find Lies' lowest pit ! THE PILGRIMS' EGYPT 45 Despite the hurtling wrath Of Maurice and the mob's wild cry thou didst Efface thyself — and bear the baseless chaege ! Ay, when the land, so loved of liberty. Lay prone, and fate seemed all intent to bring Dutch yeomen suppliant to a tyrant's feet. Thou didst from Philip wrest a twelve years' TRUCE, Rare diplomatic stroke, whereby the states Might have surcease of martial strife, recoup Exchequers, sadly in arrears, parry The thrust aimed at the nation's heart, take breath, Gain time, and later harry the hounding horde, — Ay, water the wastes with a welter of Spanish blood ! And this was — Barneveldt, the statesman-seer Sagacious in all arts fitted to deal "With cunning craft and save his nation's life And honour ! Barneveldt, thou didst not seek For JOY, — nay service was thy meed. For he Who would seek joy ne'er finds the thing he seeks ; ^or here nor there it is, but service will Forever crown the life and make it whole, — Such SERVICE, ah, 't was thine ! 46 THE PILGRIMS Into the deepening West the Sun Goes down ; and the hills 'twixt the waning light And me rise cyclops-like, till night, With its spangle of golden stars, gilds one By one, those giant forms. Alone I stand canopied, while peerless eyes, (Millions if one), with mild surprise Look down ; and my heart were a pulseless stone, If nor thrill of joy nor an aching sigh Came from my being's depths. The day. With its burdens and heavy cares that lay Their heads on pillows, passes by. The ceaseless joy-hunger masters my mind. The day afreight with its deeds, good or ill, Is dead. Is there aught of joy to fill This present ? And I sigh to find, That the now of life is so soon far past. While TO-MOREOW's meed has not yet come. And JOY, a plane dividing one Dead day from days that shall not last ! 'T was dawn ! The night Of Spanish rule had slijDped, pardlike, away. THE PILGRIMS' EGYPT 47 Despite the long dark years of error truth Had smiled ; and from the purpling East broad bars, As golden heralds of the rising Sun, Shone fair upon the faces of a Band Of Pilgrims. All intent they now beheld A beaconing bourne. 'T was LEYDEisr with her gates Swung wide, as footsore and aweary they Had come from Albion's shores to find where they Might worship God, nor haunted by the fear Of Herod on their track, — and at a time. When common wrongs make common cause and men Deal kindly with their kind. But were they kind ? Nay, factions are at strife ! First, those who say, " God's sovereign, man's the object of His grace, Or of His wrath, — chose some, passed others by ; Those chosen, foreordained, elect ; these doomed Ay, reprobated, damned, shall meet their fate ; For was it not decreed ? A sovereign God Shall do His sovereign will, whate'er His will ! Without condition choose such as He wills And make them heirs of Life ; and if He choose. Without condition reprobate such as He wills to loss and shame ! " 48 THE PILGRIMS " Shall Clay, forsooth, With asking looks demand the reason why The Potter uses divers ways, makes some For honoured use, and some for menial tasks ? No more shall man object ! What claim has he. Apostate, Rebel, Alien man ? Shall not The Potter make such vessels as He likes, And for such uses as He likes ? ShaU clay Assume the right to say, in jaunty grace, ' With your permission now I ask. Wherefore Thou makest vessels for this use, or that ? ' Pretentious, foolish Clay ! Not so shall God Be lessoned by weak man what way befits His sovereign vv^ill, — 'T is God ordains ! Shall choose Some men to life, — pass others by, and as It suits ELECTING GRACE, or else God is Not God ! " This was strong meat, and men who took It for their daily fare were strong and brave, — Sternly unyielding, fixed, austere, heads set To do God's will, or die ! " God chose the7n, hence His favouring grace ! He passed some others by, (A fitting proof, that God is also just !) Who held opposing views were ' heretics,' ' Corrupters of the faith,' ' schismatics,' and ' Obnoxious, faithless malcontents ' ! " THE PILGRIMS' EGYPT 49 Ay, these Out-Calvined Calvin in their zeal, or held It Calvin-strong ; had won their creedal rights On blood-red fields, with martial Maurice, bold, Ambitious Prince, to lead the conquermg hosts ! " God calls them to conserve this faith ! To men Shall be the right to worship God, and as They please, if they but hold these blood-bought truths The essence of God's Word ! " They gave to all Men freedom, as if you should say, " May paint My house such colour as you like, if you But paint it red ! " Ambitious Maurice, who Served Calvin and his creed with Jehu-zeal ! He too would hold this faith against the world. And Barneveldt— his foe! With zeal would hale To dungeons and to death all such as held Opposing views. For was it not decreed. Foredoomed '? And are majorities not rig-ht, — Minorities not so ? Much Jehu-zeal ! 50 THE PILGRIMS Out-Calviued Calvin in his zeal to crush The enemies of truth, — and Bakneveldt, His FOE ! But hear the other side, e'en those Who bravely followed in the steps of wise, Sweet-tempered, tolerant Akminius. Call these Remonstrants, men who dared Untrammelled by the thought of fear to hold Five points against five other points ; affirmed That " God is sovereign, great, a King ; His wrath Implacable, if not appeased, yet kind And good, a loving Father to the race, A Father to all tribes, if man will but Avail himself of grace in Christ " ! They held. That " God without condition does not doom To death, nor yet without condition choose To Life ; and that the Christ had died for all ! Though prone, a helpless, hapless rebel, man, Yet God provides enabling grace, Avhereby The sinner shall receive the boon of Life. ' Prevenient grace ' ! such grace as goes before, Enables not the few, but all to have The gift of Life, if only they obtain It as a boon through Christ, and if they hold It fast unto the end ; else wrath, not love, Is God's great final law^ ! " THE PILGRIMS' EGYPT 51 And out of all This tangled maze — factions and bitter strifes — The heart triumphed, and sang its song, that love Abides, (the ocean's quiet deep), though far And wide much wreckage strews the shore : Years, years, years, — How the sad years fly ! Love says, " I tarry. While the years go by." Biding in the flux and flow ; All things come and all things go ; Only love abides, I know ; Vanity is pomp and show ! Years, years, years, — How man's strength abates ! Love says, " I'm stronger Than the fabled Fates." Shining when the Sun goes down ; Bearing loss Avithout a frown ; Love knows neither up nor down ; Choose it, whether King or Clown ! Years, years, years, — How our day-dream speeds ! Love copes all graces In its wealth of kindly deeds ; Heaven's meed from age to age ; God and love my soul engage. 52 THE PILGRIMS Love ? It is a noble rage. Choose it, Sophister and Sage I Years, years, jears, — See the dark'ning sky ! Day is surely passing, — 'T will be over by and by ; Light will fade from field and fen ; Shadows deepen glade and glen ; Love will prove its prowess then. So waged The bitter war,— the War of Words ! This rent The quaint Dutch to^^^l and made the land distraught With faction this and faction that, till men. With predesign, would have the synod say. What is the teuth, (the essence of God's Word), That they might seize the golden prize and hold It fast unto the end ! DoRT deals its dole, — The STERNER VIEW shall stand ! Majorities Are right, minorities not so ! How else Shall Maurice know the will of God, and how Disprove the milder view, SLud justly lay Arresting hands on Barneveldt, Ms foe ? Majorities are right, — the sterner view Shall stand, and Barneveldt shall die ! I THE PILGRIMS' EGYPT 53 'T was said, — And done ! Then sorrow sat a silent guest At many a hearthstone ; and the seas, which stretch A cordon round the grassy, lowland plains, Gave sobs and sighs, as when a burdeijed heart Is breaking, and nor day nor starry night Finds peace, — while from the same seas came a song, A dirgelike plaint, that life, however sane, Is sad : List, ah, list ! Down by the sounding sea Is heard a call from the mallard's mall. Speaks to the heart of me ; Sea-fowls, — gannet, auk, gull and tern Speak to the heart of me. Far-off sea-fowl voices, Down by the soughing sea, Seem to say, in an artless way. E'en to the heart of me, " All great souls are sane, but sad As the moan of the troubled sea." Sea-mews faintly calling Out of the darkling deeps, 54 THE PILGRIMS Muffled calls from sepulchral halls, Speak to the soul that weeps, " All free life will dwell with grief, While the sea its vigils keeps." Diving petrel and murre, And birds of the sandy dunes, Touch the heart with the tender art Of their simple, sad sea-tunes ; Sea-fowls say, " All life is sad, As the souls of ancient runes." Speak, Soul, speak, Out of abysmal deeps. Is there life that's free from strife ? Speak to the heart that weeps. Innermost Soul, it says to me, " Life's heart-pain never sleeps." Here's then your Leyden, and the view, Called " STERN," shall surely stand ! Ay, me, and let It stand ! The need was great for sterner faith Than yet heroic days had known. The need Is now for men who feel God's sovereign will In all their deeds, — themselves but plastic clay The Potter fashions for predestined ends. And in unquestioning trust follow the King, "Whose purpose provident and pure, in all THE PILGRIMS' EGYPT 55 The march of mind, enfolds the destinies Of men. Ay, let men feel with quickening pulse God's sovekeign will in all their deeds ! With Him Is nothing great, is nothing small. In this So virile faith, men, once mere puppets, stand The pillars to sustain the social frame, Which else would topple down ! This faith was now The regnant faith o'er all that fair Dutch land ! O fair Dutch land, so oft the scene of strife, — Land of the Zuyder Zee, where years on years Men battled for the right, how oft has thy Dutch valour flowed forth red as ruby wine, Whene'er oppression's hand was laid on thee ! How oft have thy brave sons in martial strife Lnbued their hands in Spanish blood to save Sweet liberty ? Brave Holland, in our hearts, We crown thee Princess fair of all the lands. Which in those sad, dark days, with martial pains. Contended for the right. Brave Dutchland, home Of blood-red battle-fields, blood-red, yet fair, If once we see them in the light of faith ! For was it not in thee Dutch burghers dared 56 THE PILGRIMS To give their lives to save the truth and make Asylum for oppressed, God-fearing men Of every land ? Ay, was it not in thee. That Leyden, quaint Dutch town, beleaguered long By cutthroats of King Philip, (knave), dared cut The dykes and let engulfing seas destroy The fertile plains ? Ay, fearless faced the foe. With Peter Vander Were, brave burgo- master, Who stoutly said, "Take now my sword and THRUST Me through : divide my flesh among you, BUT, — Surrender ? I will not, so help me, God ! " And o'er the troubled city, like a paU, Hung dark, portentous clouds of gathered gloom. While through her anxious streets fell famine stalked A gaunt and ghostly thing ! O fair Dutch land, How oft have thy broad, fertile fields wept tears Of blood ! How oft has grim and grizzly death. Up-mounted on his gory car, rolled swift Across thy plains a juggernaut of war, While from her reeking cavern, dark and dank, Dread famine with lean eyes glared fiercely round ! THE PILGRIMS' EGYPT 57 Safe in men's hearts, dear Ehineland, dear to God, Forever dwell. No image of the past, No vision of the days which yet shall be, No deeds which bards have sung, or yet may sing. Can dim the lustre of the martial toils That saved sweet liberty ! Put off your shoes, — The bush is all ablaze ! Doubt you, that God Was HELMSMAN of the wind-tossed barque, which brought Them o'er the deep ? You doubt, He chose the land, — And from a Horeb bush proclaimed, " I'm God ! Fear not, train here My Church, and when I CALL, Obey " ? I, pondering the path their feet Once trod, as if caught up into the heights, Called to the Ghosts, (my hero-ghosts), rising As from a pinnacle, I clapped my hands. Exclaiming, in an ecstasy of joy, " Pilgrims, bravo, — well done ! " 58 THE PILGRIMS But will the Pilgrim story end, — Find somewhere respite from the toil Of endless dissertation ? Friend, The rubble work beneath the soil, Is it not somewhat in the plan Of Art's emprise, the column's base, Needful, indeed, if ever man Shall build St. Peter's fit to face The scrutinizing gaze of eyes Gifted to see into the soul Of things ? Ay, let the column rise Ornate and beautiful, the whole Eesponsive to the tenderest touch, Nay, upward let it move apace. As if imbued with life, — yet such Were still fantastic, if nor space Nor time be given to lay wide The graceless concrete ! Will it end. The story ? End ? Just as the tide Rises from low to high to send The bruit authentic of the sea Landward, rumour the unseen things, Which dwell in darkling deeps, till lea THE PILGRIMS' EGYPT 59 And sheltered shoal ripple in rings To match the changing winds, so too, Shall rise at times the frenzy, free As untamed tides, to trace anew Fair lines of grace and symmetry, — So cope the rubble, making great Our Pilgrim story ! All intent On this I labour long and late, — And find my soul's replenishment. BOOK III The Pilgrims' Olympus The Theme,— The Pilgrim Church at Ley den numbered about three hundred souls, — a Gideon's Baud. Through the influence of the Calvinistic doc- trines the Pilgrims renounced the Church of England, and in the strength of this creed continued loyal to the Eeformed party at Leyden. Calvin, in their minds, was the greatest of the Eeformers, — a veritable Jupiter of Europe. His doctrine of Predestination was a menace to all theories of the divine right of kings, and, by consequence, his teachings were ex- ceedingly obnoxious to the ruling classes. The emphasis Calvin gave to the Sovereignty of God and the Parity of men made his creed a large political factor in Europe. This Canto suggests a number of considerations, such as, that Eunnymede was a flickering taper ^ Calvin's creed, a blazing orb, — God's seemingly devious ways, — man's limited free- dom, — God's WILL largely everybody's will. A. pagan song is introduced to relieve the monotony of a long argument. Then the gracious stars see two Pilgrims of a far later period, —Abraham Lincoln, and John Brown. John Brown of Ossawatomie! God's Bluchers at the Leyden gates. The Epilogue, — " Now all seemed saner." I The Pilgrims' Olympus Fear not, O Pilgrim, for truth is thy buckler ; Gird up thy loins, the battle's to fight ; Devil-sired creeds in array for the conflict ; Marshalled 'gainst thee are the minions of night. Stand in the battle-shock, — justice thy hauberk ; Truth's greaves and battle-ax, — panoplied be ; Fear not the face of man, though he be thrice a king ; What matters king-craft, or hell's rage to thee ? Fear not, O Pilgrim, a light from Olympus Pierces earth's gloom, — night's shadows will flee ; Jupiter Toi^ans defiance has thundered ; Kises the star of the valiant and free ! 63 64 THE PILGRIMS Three hundred souls, — A Gideon's band, God's Chosen, God's elect ! And in the word, " elect," behold the key, The problem's glimmering light, the sermon's text, — The answer to men's doubts ! One hope, one faring, fadeless ray. Sends streamers up the Eastern sky,— 'T is Destiny shall blaze the way The Pilgrim feet must travel ! Ay, O'er rough and smooth, in light, in shade, "Where storm-clouds break along the lea, Or where the land from glen and glade Dips down upon the shining sea, — There, hark ! The heralds of the race Highborn and of enduring blood. Elect and foreordained to trace A dawning era, great and good ! The HERALDS ? Nay, the race as well. Foredoomed and to some greatness born. When Doubt and Darkness wane to swell Reveille to the coming morn, THE PILGRIMS' OLYMPUS 65 For as a bird with wings scarce tried Will find its way through dark and dim, While to its breast is safely tied Some weighty message, — ah, in Him Who guides the bird shall they not trust ? Ho, Pilgrims doomed to paths which lead To fame's abode, yet free from lust Of Fame, God grants to you this meed ! The Jupiter Of Europe thundered forth the earthquake word, — Predestination ! Clouds and troubled skies, Which long obscured the light, as with the dead Inertia of the years of thickest gloom. Now felt the shock, were hurtled as by noise Of falling skies, and in the rifts men saw A FORM loom large and menacing the might Of kings, (a crownless King), and born to rule The world,— it was John Calvin ! Stern he stood As on Genevan heights he spoke the dread, Portentous word, which made all Europe quake And tremble, and her kings to stand knock-kneed, And blanched, as if at sight of coming doom ! Predestination ! How the clouds hung low, And dark, with God's swift recompensing wrath ! Afar o'er kingdoms, long enthralled by those, Who through reputed rights divine had swayed 66 THE PILGRIMS The Scepter of Misrule, the rolling, rude, And dee})- voiced thunder heralded the word, Predestination ! Wide o'er lands, long prone Beneath oppression, hope's pulse strongly beat In erst despairing hearts. With prophets' eyes Men saw a star ascend the arching skies, — A star of hope ! A Child was born whose hand Would sAvay the scepter of the world, — a Christ Predestinate, Messias of a creed Would aspen-shake the kingliest thrones, and teach The world the Brotherhood and Parity Of men ! " Arch heresy ! " went forth the cry ; " A parlous poison-seed," 't was said, " and sure To germinate and grow a Upas quick To bear the breadfruit of sedition and Contempt of kingly ways ! " Forth went the cry ; But with the cry went forth God's sword of TRUTH, (Though buffeted His messengers), and far As Frith of Forth in Scotland, long the fief THE PILGRIMS' OLYMPUS 67 Of faithless Princes of the Stuart line, Men saw the rising star, and in its light Were strong ! Predestination ! How the word Brought consternation to the Camp of Kings ! Predestination ! There appeared a man,— A SCION, say, of Calvin's rock-ribbed creed, And raised his voice for liberty. He faced Queen-fury and prelatic zeal, and bared His strong right arm to save the truth once learned At Calvin's feet. Prelates grew faint with fear. As from St. Giles there came the battle-cry Of civil and religious liberty ! This was the man, John Knox, whose will gave law To Kings and Princes, and in trumpet tones Proclaimed anew the sovereignty of God And man's equality ! A little cloud was fashioned In a summer hour By the love impassioned Of the sun and shower ; 68 THE PILGRIMS All day it basked in sunlight On the heaven's warm blue : Round lilies in the dun light Once when Dawn was leading In the hot young Day This fleecy cloudlet speeding Through the ether gray Seemed to float and sail On the bright sky's bosom, Like a dewdrop pale On a bluebell blossom. So close under heaven Did it glide and fleet, That I thought it riven By an angel's feet ; Then the breezes parted Its thinly veiling screen, And blue glimpses darted Into sight between. Let William, Prince Of Orange, step upon the Stage ! Let eyes As erst behold once more the deepening blush Of horror, ill-concealed, as from the lips Of Henry, King of France, he hears the pact With Philip, knave, to extirpate all such As dared refuse the papal faith, — see how We praise him for his nobleness ! THE PILGRIMS' OLYMPUS 69 Did the gauzy fabric Redden in tiie breeze, Like the dainty rubric On the temple frieze ? Oh, the sun shone through it, Rainbow-tints agleam, Till my heart that knew it Worshipped every beam ! As I gazed came breathings On a zephyr's wings Like wild, windy wreathings Round £eolian strings ; 'T was a lark far hidden In the little cloud. Singing songs unbidden. Full and free and loud. Oh, it came down streaming The clear air along. Like rills roused from dreaming, Like a shower of song ; It made me glad and bright. Brighter every minute. Till I blessed the cloudlet white And the spirit in it. Appears Ui3on the Stage the silent prince, appalled To silence, not by craven fear, ah, no ! But by atrociousness of crimes proposed, — 70 THE PILGRIMS Brave Statholder and Prince of royal blood ! Great hero-ghost, hear now men's praise ! Thy name Dies not upon the winds, but year by year Goes gathering increase, — hear earth's salvos ! Hark ! What voice is this upon the circling air ? 'T is fame's ! To thee, O princely ghost, she cries, " All hail ! " She opens wide the Temple Doors, And with a beckoning, outstretched hand exclaims, " Come hither, son, thy throne is here ! " Like a trailing comet Passing through the skies "With the sunbeams on it. Ere the daylight dies. Moved the apparition. Ghostlike, far, serene ; Art had its fruition In the sky-demesne. Li the dome it fluttered Like dim, waving lights, Timing songs were uttered By the lark at heights In the empyrean ; — Angels only hear The bird's unequalled paean. Oh, that it were near ! THE PILGRIMS' OLYMPUS 71 Lightly on my spirit Weighed the sky-land scene, Cloud, and lark within it, And the crystal sheen Of rainbow tints supernal, — Violet to red ! " Beauty is eternal " — This was all I said. Soon the song grew fainter And the cloudlet passed Like pictures of the painter, When his soul at last Wearies of the vision, Vanishes his dream Of fairy scenes elysian, — That which might have been ! So grew The Calvin-light ! The flickering taper lit At EuNNYMEDE, and quickly fading as The darkness deepened, suffered its eclipse. As when the rising sun, great blazing orb. Effaces Moon and Stars. Appeared great men, Pyra, Hampden, Cromwell, like the fabled teeth O' the Dragon, when the fructifying light Transformed them into mailed and armed Knights, And drew the gauntlets on in truth's defense, Nor ere forebore, till Charles the First was sent The headsman's way I 72 THE PILGRIMS Did my soul feel joyance, When the misty height Banished all annoyance By the rare delight Cloud and lark had given, — Kaptured me of care ? In the vault of heaven, Art had triumphed there. Then the sun's noon splendour Filled the cloud with light Of a soft and tender, Yet intensest white ; And the wanderer weary Joyed that it was made, — It gave to him a cheery, And a grateful shade. Did the semblance of a shadow On the wide sky pass ? It dusked the quiet meadow And the glistening grass ; It dimmed the forest fountain And the clover lea ; It deepened on the mountain, Darkened on the sea. Still though earth was shaded And a gloom was there, Never dulled or faded Was the cloudlet fair ; THE PILGRIMS' OLYMPUS 73 For it ever sailed Up so close to heaven, That nothing could have failed Of the beauty given. Now a lustre glowing In the silent West From the sun was flowing As it turned to rest ; And the cloud borne sunward, Ever nearer, nigher, Ever floated onward Toward the sunset fire. All its being belted With a glory bright, While into heaven it melted In a dream of light ; Never more glance crossed it In the sky-land far ; But where I had lost it Shone the Evening Star. The cloudlet passed, and io, Young Hesper with his starry flock was seen Above the marge, and all the arching dome Was studded with bright gems ! Intent on this Far sky-land scene, with echoes in my soul Of harmony like that when all the stars Sang sweetly and Creation's dawn sent forth 74 THE PILGRIMS The primal light and Chaos fled, I felt Once more within my heart a stately tread, (The footfalls of a regnant Faith), — Truth's march From ScROOBY ! I resumed the song of how Truth-seekers left their native land in quest Of LIBERTY ! Teach me, O Pilgrims, ■when the night winds rave, And the goblin forces range and rally, That the Orb of Day will ere long rise And disperse the mob with a martial sally. Teach me, O Pilgrims, that the heart is strong. When truth abides in the life as fully As the sun in the sky of a cloudless June, — That a life for God will never sully The passing years and the deeds which dare To envisage the storms that sometimes lower, Nor stifle the soul by virtue led In its upward look to place and power. Teach me, O Pilgrims, that strength is meet For a life that will live in the light and glory Of a day that shall sever the chains which thrall The spirit of freedom hale and hoary. THE PILGRIMS' OLYMPUS 75 For behold, ere the night, a test will come To try men's faith, whether fast or failing, And the Creed rock-ribbed as the mountain's base Will prove its truth and strength availing. God moves in devious ways, And dark ? So free men seem, so fettered, and So frail, — God's Princes, ay, and puppets, as Befits His sovereign will ! That drooping day, A puppet, — this glad, shining day, as like, A Prince, while no day sure He will not make A contrary choice ! So stood on Humber's banks God's pilgrim-puppets, poor, despised and weak, Yet free to raise a puny arm and frail Against a tyrant-wrong ; so likewise one Day stand they Princes at the friendly gates Of Leyden, safe ! Yet in their deepest hearts They feel fast-fettered to God's chariot wheels. Shall say, Man's free ? Say it, and, — good ! Shall say- Man is not free ? Just so, and likewise, good. Man's can and will, at changing views, nor can Nor will, till in confusion sore of truth's Quick-changing ways we wondering wait what God Will do ! Ah, me ! I see the deeper truth. E'en I who tell the Pilgrim tale, and feel My frailty in each halting line, dare speak 76 THE PILGRIMS It out : There is no can, no will, save can And WILL, which in us is our can, our will, — The everybody's can and will ! You doubt ? To doubt is to be — lost ! A pagan song, Perchance, may here relieve the long-taut strain : I sing of fair Persephone, Demeter's daughter, — hear my song ! I sing the sacred mystery. The Eleusinian rites, so long The comfort and the hope of men ! I sing of raptured Proserpine, And Ceres' aching sorrow, when The flowering dafi'odils incline The fairest of the fair to leave The ocean nymphs and step aside. Perchance to feast her heart and cleave The six-lobed perianths, while wide Beneath her feet yawns Hades flamed Of deathless passion to embrace The fair-faced maiden ! E'en the famed And fairest of the God-like race I sing, — Demeter's joy ! She moved A Princess of all princesses, Pure as the lily-white, and loved, When lo, bright-golden crocuses, THE PILGRIMS' OLYMPUS 77 Narcissus and the scented rue Beguiled her as in artless moods To leave the beaten path. Anew I sing the song that beats or broods Upon the cords reverberant Of lyric lore, the mythic meed Of art. Olympic love I chant, And strike the lyre, as erst, to feed The hearts of mortals,— hear my song ! Why lef test thou thy mother, maid, Disconsolate ? With what glad throng In search of daffodils, and strayed So far afield to while the hour In flowery dales embowered for thee ! Didst feel Death's hand and mighty power O'ershadow thee, Persephone, Persephone ? Thy mother's voice, Lilie wailing winds, now calls to thee, " Persephone " ! Thou hast no choice. Since rapt from Enna's vale ! The free Winds waft, nine days, Demeter's wail, While from their cave in sympathy The Echoes tell the waning tale, " Persephone, Persephone " ! Ah, maid, thou wast divinely fair, — Didst ravish Death ! The lordly host Of many guests burst on the air, — Surprised thee dreaming near the coast 78 THE PILGRIMS Of the Ionian Sea, and bore Thee in his golden chariot down. Unwilling to the Stygian shore. Pomegranate mead will it not drown Thy senses ? Speak, thou Queen of Death, Carest thou not for earth or sky ? The Son of Cronus comforteth He not thy heart ? Thine anguished cry Demeter hears, but cannot see Thee ranging in the dark abyss, Yet answers thee, " Persephone ! Persephone ! " The dark-browed Dis, Recks he thine aching misery ? Ah, beauteous maid, thy prayer is vain, — Thou wast ordained his bride to be, Though Hymen's bands give lasting pain ! Thy mother, her ambrosial hair Down fallen to her waist, hears naught But her own words upon the air The Echoes in their caves have caught From lips divine, " Persephone, Persephone ! " Ah, willsome maid, "Why from the path didst stray to see Narcissus ? Else had Death not laid His icy hand on thee and filled Thy mother's heart with endless pain ? The secret learn, — 't w^as Zeus that willed Thee for a bride, his brother's gain ! THE PILGRIMS' OLYMPUS 79 Aurora, when she wakes the day, Seeks thee among the dewy meads, — Alas, her quest is vain ! Thy way Is hid from Hesper, when he leads His flock of stars into the skies To feed them with the Sun's dim light ; Yet there he hears Demeter's cries. What rules the day, and what the night Can hear the wail unceasingly " Persephone ! " while timidly The Echoes plead, " Persephone, Persephone, Persephone " ! O fair-tressed daughter of the gods, Thy mother's plaintive voice is vain, Till ONE upon Olympus nods His lordly plumes ! Ah, then again The broad- wayed earth shall open wide Upon the Nysian plains, while he. The many-named of Cronus, pride And regal power laid low, shall see The raptured once again repose Upon her mother's breast ; and o'er The joy-reft fields shall bloom the rose And daffodil to fade no more. Back to the tale : John Calvin, in his strength. Seemed Jupiter to tribes in thrall, and when The Titan spoke, 't was as the voice of God ! 8o THE PILGRIMS Men trembled, but believed. Kings saw their doom Writ large on lowering skies, which once had frowned On feeble folk, — the midnight hours had waned. And LIGHT illumined all the land ! It was Genevan thunderbolts, hurled with a skill Supreme and Titan-strength, which rent the clouds, And made great rifts, where only darkness erst Had ruled ! Far flashed Geneva's beaconing light, — The sovereignty of God, the parity Of men ! John Kobinson, and kindred souls At ScROOBY, saw the light, and, like a bird The fowler's pipe, they followed that great light. Pressed on to Leyden's gates, — stood Princes, who, Once puppets, poor, despised and weak, had fled For liberty ! Shall say, Man's free ? Just so. And good. Shall say, Man is not free ? Oh, yes. And also good. At changing points he's free. Or fettered fast to God's great chariot wheels ! Ah, me ! The truth comes strangely fraught with truth's Quick-changing ways, — so free men seem, yet weak, THE PILGRIMS' OLYMPUS 8i So past all power to raise a pithless straw Against the tides of God's onrushing sea, "Whichj in its wide engulfing waves, enfolds The destiny of men ! The destiny Of men ? How else construe the Pilgrim tale ? How else conceive the universal frame Of earth and sky, the moments in the march Of mind from age to age, World-^ons past Evolving ^ons of the worlds to be, The insect meet to live its day and die. And man ? Are all not parts of one great plan God-centered and sustained ? If not, then all's Inane and lifeless at the core, and God's A name, — an empty symbol of the sad Heart's deepest need ! I tell the tale of how Brave men triumphant in the face of fear Said, No ! to king and prelate, left their homes, With all the tender ties which birth and love, And youth's dear hopes, had twined about the heart, How come to Leyden's gates, they grasp the hands Of men, who too had felt oppression's heel, Stand Princes, who, once puppets, poor, despised And weak, gave all for liberty ! And this 82 THE PILGRIMS Was Leyden, long asylum for Exiles From every land. O Leyden, loved of God, How would we say the fitting word ! How would We write on during brass the joy with which The Pilgrims hailed thy welcome gates ! How tell In measured lines the pulse-throbs of thy heart Of tenderness, the royal largess thou Didst give to weary, wayworn travellers, — The human-hearted kindness of thy heart's Unmeasured meed ! A fadeless garland, rich In all sweet kindliness was Leyden's gift, — A covert, when the storm had lowered dark, And Herod and his hangdog crew Avould seek The young Child's life ! These were poor pup- pets, long Distraught with anxious care, when lo, one day. They stand at Leyden's gates God's Princes, and The Child was saved ! Just so, — the Child was saved, A virile creed, a faith predestinate To sway the scepter of the world ! THE PILGRIMS' OLYMPUS 83 These were God-fearing exiles, thrice three years and two, In refuge from the wa-ath of catchpoll-priests, (A British breed of freedom-loving men). Anon to hear God's voice in Leyden, " Out Of Egypt have I called My Son ! " Bring crowns ! For held they not the truth a higher boon Than life, and left their native land, with ties Of hearth and home, to save sweet liberty ? Bring mitre and tiara, triple crown. The fadeless fillet, (cap of sovereignty). The votive incense, which bespeaks the choice Of men greater than earthly kings to high And holy services ; and bring, withal. Green oaken wreathes and iron crowns, for they Were strong ! They were unblanched by fear of man, — They stood for God, let come the worst, had armed Themselves with all the armour of God's "Word : Had girt their loins with truth, had crowned their heads With helmets of His saving grace ; had shod Their feet with the swift tidings of His peace. With breastplates of the righteousness of God, With shields of faith and flaming swords of His 84 THE PILGRIMS Eternal truth they dared resist King James, His venal Church, with prelates, bishops, priests, And hangdog crew ! So much, (ay, this much), said, and still The story runs, — a snail's pace this ! Who guides the homing bird, and AviU Despite the boundless spaces miss Not once the untried, trackless way The bird shall wing its message, He Will surely plume and guide me. Nay, I, Daniel-hke, grow wise and see A VISION ! Not what yet shaU be, (But has been), — see it, you, who will ! I eat no pleasant bread, on me The chrism, ointing oil, to fill My soul with unction, — when, behold The Man ! His body, beryl, — face Of lightning, eyes of fire, fold On fold of polished brass greaves grace Both feet and ankles, and His voice Like multitudes in converse ! See, Just here, Geneva ! I rejoice, — A kingly Peesence ! Who is He? I stand subdued, (my sense of worth THE PILGRIMS' OLYMPUS 85 Abates), for see His majesty ! Yea, all my good bemoans its dearth. But hark, a voice, as from the sea ! My strength fails and I tremble. Deep Sleep falls upon me, (so it reads The Daniel story), " Ever keep The faith, O Daniel, and the seeds From My Geneva will grow fruit For all the ages ! Fear not then. Be strong, and eat you of this fruit. Till strength be as the strength of ten ! " The gracious stars looked down On ScROOBY, and they saw a band of men, — Victims of tyranny and priestly craft ; And the stars smiled, for here were those who would Make their day great and glorious ! Again The stars looked down, — the mist-like aureole Encircled many a brow, and faces yet Unborn peered through the haze, mystic and full Of meaning, as of a faithful progeny Far future, — sons and daughters who would lead The march of right 'gainst wrong. A Pilgrim, not Of their loins, raised his sceptered hand, and lo. The shackles fell from the black millions, though 86 THE PILGRIMS He sank beneath man's curse ! Another face, Distinct in its Pilgrim lineaments, seer-like, With cast of infinite pity for men crushed Under the yoke, glowed white in its passion's heat, — A MAN, his blood the Mayflower blood, his arm Bared to uplift the victims of the world's Open sore, his vision prophetic as Isaiah's dreams ! In the lambent purity Of their approving light the stars could read, In filmy tracings, charactered and clear, His name, as one who paid with his own life The price of love for a dusky race, while the muse, (Ignored by the great poets), reared a shaft ; On it were rhythmless lines, grating and harsh, Yet strangely true : I rear this shaft to John Brown ! Bravest in war's alarums, Reckless of aught that harms The body, while the soul stands pure and strong ! He was a chosen saint of God, Saintliest saint that ever trod The earth, (I dare aifirm) ; Into the golden urn Of deeds that long shall fitly claim The sacred right to speak his name THE PILGRIMS' OLYMPUS 87 Gather the fragments of his fame, — Ay, treasure his faith and fame. And honour a spotless name ! On the 'scutcheon of a nation's fadeless glory Write large the outlines of his matchless story. Let not a tit or tithe be lost Of all the sacrificial cost Of deeds and daring ! Nay, let all AVliose souls revere an honoured name Speak forth his praise, and with acclaim, Herald it o'er land and sea, That in our sanest moments we Dare say, he was a man of God, Saintliest saint that ever trod The earth, — predestinate to lay Arresting hands on error ! Say, He was the great Elijah of his times. Who slew the Baal prophets for their crimes Against the Christ and human right ; And in the thickest of the fight Stood strong for God ! Had he not heard, As 't were a God-inspired Word, In his own heart, the cry, (The sad, unceasing sigh). As dark oppression bore On hearts that o'er and o'er Had raised the agonizing prayer. That God would hear their cry, and bare 88 THE PILGRIMS His strong right arm to save them, — From slavery's yoke redeem them ? John Brown of Ossawatomie, — Martyr to human liberty I The Elijah of his times, Fit theme for noble rhymes, Dared strike a fearless blow, That brought high error low ; He stood for God and human right, And in the thickest of the fight Pressed foremost to avenge the wrong Done to a race for ages long In thralldom ! Cursed the cult or creed That dares condemn the righteous deed At Pottawatomie ! Let the Agags tremble in the fiery noon of wrath ! Let the stern avenger follow in the Prophet's path At Pottawatomie ! And let God's Israel know ; Ay, let God's Israel show. That fealty to the right stands strong ; That God avenges every wrong Against the weak ! Let conscience speak. Approving all his great heart's vengeful throbs, For oft he thouo^ht of men in shackles bound. THE PILGRIMS' OLYMPUS 89 The stinging lash and treadmill grind, as round On round, the dusky tribe with stifled sobs Mourned the law's delay, Prayed, that Freedom's Day Would yet restore them to their manhood's right and dower. And in a glad, predestined far-off day or hour Assuage their grief ! Ah, past belief The hell-begotten greed, That in the world's long-open sore Enriched men's coffers more and more, And by a ghastly deed Enthroned a monstrous creed ! John Brown of Ossawatomie ! Lover of God and liberty ! Hater of laws that crush the prone and weak ; Breaker of laws that bind the yoke and seek To build for rich men thrones On carcasses and skulls, And feed the useless drones Whose sterile life but dulls The finer sense ! ! Ay, cursed the creed That dares condemn the righteous deed At Pottawatomie ! Let the Agags tremble, when the Prophet'i wrath is stirred ; 90 THE PILGRIMS Let a stern Elijah blanch and balk the Baal herd At Pottawatomie ! That was a righteous deed To suit a nation's need. Arise, avengers, rise and lay Arresting hands on wrong, and say, " Let God arise ! " All-seeing eyes Behold laws infamous and vile. Arise ! Kesist their sway, and while One drop of hero-blood flows in your veins, Ascend Mount Carmel heights, resist the claims Of error to enforce a law The Ahabs and the Jezebels would frame To feed or cram the prey-bird's maw, — So slay men ! Let some Master Spirit rise. Some Hero-Prophet, born to glorious fame. And lead Elijah-like the bold emprise, — And strike a blow, as erst At Pottawatomie ! Ay, strike, let come the worst, And Pottawatomie ! And in a blood-red fury topple down, — In burning wrath and ruin topple down. The mighty torture-towers of greed, And in the well-tuned, righteous deed Deserve men's praise ! The shaft now raise ! THE PILGRIMS' OLYMPUS 91 Come, gather the dust and ashes of his deeds, And urn them for our nation's future needs ; Say to the generations rising to their noon, And to the puppet-cowards marching to their doom, Behold a man that dared to stand for truth. Who from the foothills of his early youth Trudged slowly up the mountain peaks to power, And in the fullness of God's wrathful hour Sent sore amaze and trembling to the coward- hearts Of men who manacled a race, and in the marts Made merchandise of flesh ! Thou, in the tangling mesh Of laws unjust and vile. Wait God's swift wrath the while ! Then back to Calvin went My heart in glad pulsations of acclaim. For who but Gallia's Son had blazed the way Through the world's wilderness to liberty. And light ? Why then not sing a song of him, — The crownless King ? O Herald of the dawn, Calvin ! Afar over the desolate w^aste Of error and the maze of sin, 92 THE PILGRIMS Beneficent and strong, yet chaste As pearled-dew on Dian's lips, WoKLD-SHAKEK, thy faith shone ! Amaze To Kings and Prelates ! For the ships That carried a Scrooby band, ablaze With conquering light, carried a creed To topple down the kingliest thrones ! Great Almoner of truth's rich meed, Contemner of all kingly drones. To thee a paean ! Let earth's choirs Now fret the skies for thee, and long As Art endures, and tuneful lyres, Fill the wide air with grateful song ! Behold the sun at break of day Kise red above the eastern hills, And shadows thief-like steal away, As fearing long predestined ills, — He rose, the herald of the dawn Of TRUTH, — great Calvin rose, and smiled,- Lo, Satan and his reptile spawn Of Prelates sought the waste and wild ! And lo, as if God had In me planted a seed, w^hich by and by Would grow and make me kin to heroes, I THE PILGRIMS' OLYMPUS 93 Had thereupon such fellowship with these Dear ghosts, (gone ages to their harvesting), That ere thought could restrain, I called to them Across the flood, that is, my heart exclaimed, " Bravo, and fare ye well, inheritoks Of glory ! Hear me, heroes, from your high Abodes of light ! With all my heart I greet You, hail, thi'ice hail ! And lest my voice should die Upon the air, nor reach those shinmg orbs, I call whatever Angels minister To saints to bear my messages of love ! And if our guardian Angels fail to hold Sweet intercourse, as led in diverse ways, Then God, who knows my heart, shall evermore Remind you of my fealty ! " Here two scenes Upon my heart's four walls beguile me, — one Is wearied Pilgrims, bent on duty's call, A])proaching Leyden's circling moat with cahn And reverend mien, and to myself breathless I say, " Will the gates ope, or no ? " And one, — A funeral pageant, dark with plume and pall, — A much -loved, princely form, borne in the arms Of Death, (Grief sable-stoled), and miles on miles 94 THE PILGRIMS Of mourners slowly moving to the Crypt Of Ley den's loved St. Peter's, where with dust And ashes should repose the mortal parts Of gentle, wise, sweet-tempered, tolerant Arminius ! And Leyden is in grief And mourning, for a Prince has died ! Not such As shapes a state's decrees, but one who rules In the realms of mind. This is the man who raised His voice against the sterner view, and dared Deny, that men are reprobated, doomed, — Predestinated, damned to penal pains ! He held, that man without condition is Not foreordained to life, nor doomed to death, — Ay, rather, God is Father to the race, All-Father to all tribes, if man will take What God, in Christ, so freely gives, yea take It as a boon through Christ, and, — if^ hy faith, He hold it fast unto the end ! It was October, and the leaves, with autumn hues Of varied rainbow-tints, feU noiselessly, While in the City Sorrow, with her Sighs, THE PILGRIMS' OLYMPUS 95 "Was brooding, nor had surcease found, for one, "Who in the hale, high noon of life, so long Leyden's great Leader in the march of mind, Lay mute and pulseless in the arms of Death. Akminius was dead ! And sobs and sighs Were heard on every hand, the city palled In gloom, the funeral pageant moving slow, While strangely weird, as if on wailing winds, The silver fir-tree told its mournful tale, — " The Cedak is no more ! " 'T was thus declined The MILDER FAITH at Leyden, for the voice That dared to speak the gentler ceeed was hushed ; Death sealed brave lips, the beating heart was stilled, While o'er the silent dust St. Peter's tolled A requiem : Kest, great heart ! No more stern duty calls thee; Kest, great heart ! The stress of strife is past ; Kest in peace ; God's loving arms enfold thee ; Rest, only rest ; the light has dawned at last. Rest, great heart ! The day of pain is ended ; Sleep the sleep of just men after toil ; Rest in peace ; with rest may peace be blended ; Rest, sweetly rest in freedom's blood-bought soil. 96 THE PILGRliMS Kest, great heart! No more the wild pulsa- tions ; Wild, warring words shall vex thee not again ; Kest, great heart ! Safe now from earth's mu- tations ; Kest, sweetly rest ; no more the pang or j>ain. Though flags were furled, and peace, Brooded white-winged over the plains, which erst The greed of Spanish knaves despoiled, and farms Blossomed anew with promise, yet two creeds, — The Calvinistic and Arminian cults, The while waged war at Leyden ; and at times The issue was in doubt. This view, then that. Seemed winning near the goal. God's iron duke, Stern Gomar, bowed with anxious care, would fain Have "night, or help ! " — cried, " Save us from the wreck Of these degenerate times! Oh, may the faith Of Calvin make us strong to stand for truth ! " Cried, " Save us from the foes of civil and Religious liberty ! " Heaven was all Intent, for when the sky was at its depth Of dark, God heard the cry, stern Gomar's CRY, And sent His Pilgrim-Bluchers in hot haste, And the da^, else lost, was saved | THE PILGRIMS' OLYMPUS 97 John Robinson, And men, who counted Truth a higher boon Than life, with Bradford, Brewster, Carver, ail Had felt the travail pains of freedom, found A truth that gold can never buy, — that God Is SOVEREIGN, MAN BORN HAPLESS, HOPELESS, PRONE, The VESSEL of God's grace, or wrath, — and all To suit His SOVEREIGN will! This made men reck As nothing, — old conventionalities, Which make this man a king, that man a slave, (His birthright's doom), and by time-honoured rules, A KING, a slave, to endless days ! Ah, me ! Who gave the right to lord it over men ? Not Calvin's creed, nor God's ! Earth's poten- tates, In the most sovereign sight, are but as chaff, When flails alternate beat, and staffs and s^viples, grasped In yeomen's hands, shuck out the grain, — a creed To make the harrowing Herods howl with rage ; For had not Cal^'IN thundered from the heights, (The Jupiter of Europe), at a time. 98 THE PILGRIMS When Church and State, in venal compact, dared Usurp the rights of brave, God-fearing men, And bind a yoke too heavy to be borne ? This was great Calvit^, and the Pilgrims' Guide In truths, once darkly joined with truths divine, AVhen lo, they stand at Leyden's wide-swung gates, — God's Bluchers, and the day is saved ! Now all seemed saner when I saw The course predestinate, and how, As if obedient to a law, God's puppets once, but Princes now, Like migratory birds, replumed For distant flights, gave token, (mind The figure), that, the Spring relumed With light and largess, they would find A nesting place on foreign strands. The course seemed saner, for the light Which once had feebly sent its bands, Ray like, over dark wastes, till right Dared set its face 'gainst wrong, now broke Refulgent ! Prelates, Priests and Kings Had strange, mysterious dreams, and woke To pallor and to trembling ! THE PILGRIMS' OLYMPUS 99 Things Seemed to my senses fraught with strength And meaning, I had found the key, Subtle and sure to turn at length A searching light upon the free, Untrammelled truth, once darkly locked In thrall, that God would have His say. And, though by Herod-machinations balked In plans beneficent, would lay, Ere long, on error's mouth, the palm Of His reproving hand ! I saw Devils give way before the cahn. Fair face of truth, and the pale awe Of RIGHT in triumph over wrong. I knew, that somewhere, deep as life. And endless as the years of song The morning stars, in spaces rife With music, each to other sing. Was the predestined purpose, born Of counsels infinite, to light Puppets to THRONES of POWER ! the MORN Of TRUTH smiled from the lofty height ! loo THE PILGRIMS ]j(ote : — In the foregoing canto the poem on The Cloud is in part a redaction of a few anonymous verses of imperfect form, with the addition of as many original stanzas. BOOK IV The Departure The Theme,— The doctrines of Calvin found their way into the minds and hearts of the common people, just as the risiug sun finally floods the landscape with light. The book opens with this figure. The Cov- enanters of Scotland inspired by the Calvinistic doc- trines framed and signed the Solemn League and Covenant. France by the rejection of her own son, Calvin, became a dying nation, yet his creed has be- come the Magna Charta for the world. The space of eleven years (thrice three years and two), spent at Leyden by the Pilgrims was as nothing compared with truth, — "spaceless, timeless all that is." A lilt of loneliness here gives time for the Pilgrim story to gird its loins. The English at Leyden might have intermarried with the Dutch. No doubt a virile progeny would have been the issue, but the loss to America would have been infinite. Here follows the ' ' what might have been, ' ' — the wedding bells. God' s paths seem devious. The canto closes with the em- barking at the Delft, and the epilogue, — Into the Light now come. The Departure Thrice three years and two The Pilgrims lived at Leyden, Free to worship at the soul's behest ; Tlmce three years and two A new world longing waited Its natal day o'er the ocean's crest. Thrice tliree years and two The days with toil were freighted, — Freedom's sons in a foreign land ! Tlirice three years and two A faith undimmed, unshaken, — God's ELECT were the Pilgrim band ! Thrice three years and two God's angels kept them ever Safe and leal in His Egyptland ; Thrice three years and two He called again the Pilgrims To hie them swift to a barren strand. Thrice three years and two The fate of nations quavered, — Freedom's child, will it live, or die ? Thrice three years and two The HEIR to all the ages In stature grew as the days went by. 103 I04 THE PILGRIMS Thrice three years and two Fair fallowlands unbroken ! Freedom's seed seeks freedom's soil ; Thrice three years find two, (The days were years eleven), — Let freedom's sons for freedom toil ! Thrice three years and two The STAR of hope arises ; Breaks the light, — a longed-for day ! Thrice three years and two A tiny bark comprises World- Destiny for aye and aye ! Behold A sunrise in the Alps, — a figure this ! High up the mountains aU is tinged with pink And gold. The day's adawn, while fleecy clouds Move downlike in the sky, — the silent hour, Ere voice is heard of bird, or creeping thing. Descends the golden flame from topmost peak To towering pine ; the lofty trees are lit With crystal light, and every mist-clad shrub. Like polished coral, glows in rainbow tints Of varied hues. So swift the changing scene. That gorge, and deep ravine, and valley, long Enshrouded in the pall of night, rise limned. Yet ghostlike, in the gray and gold of morn ! Quickly the gold and gray fade in the sky, THE DEPARTURE 105 And all the bounding landscape lies full fleeced In common light ! Here see the march of truth ! Great minds, seerlike, as dwelling in the light, Behold divinely purposed plans, (the peaks Suntipt), till creeps apace the widening sheen Down from these lofty herald-heights to bathe Wide areas of the common mind in tracts Below ! John Calvin stood upon the heights, His head sun-crowned and filleted with truth, (An am'eole-mist encircling his great brow), And looming large. Apollolike, beheld In skyey tracings, — mystical — the word. Predestination, (charactered in gold), — The doom of kingly claims, and from his high Olympus sent a light far over lands. And treacherous seas ! Have you trudged thro' the damp, dewy meadows in search of the kine, Ere the twilight has faded and out from the linden and lime Breaks a chorus of song-birds ? Nay, ere you rose from your bed You had heard them make vocal the morn. How the dew at your tread io6 THE PILGRIMS Settled softly, as down in the grass the meadow- lark hid All atremble ! E'en earthworms, apprised of their danger, slow slid Out of sight in the darkness and deep, just the fall of your feet Was the signal, — while pinkish and light purple streamers would meet In the limitless dome far above you, arching sky- vault and all With the promise of radiant glories would suddenly fall On the uplands and glades ! Oh, there's naught to compare with the glint Of the sunbeam's first peep o'er the hills, and the light-purple tint. Ere the gold and pale pink follow quickly, and lo, there he stands All majestic above the horizon, his broad golden bands Branching outwards, a palmleaf, the all-seeing sun ! E'en so The faint rays of truth break aglimmer, first glint, and then glow. You have seen it, my brother ; and often the prayer men will say, " Oh, anon let it break in effulgence and lighten the way To an era of infinite kindness and brotherly weal ! " THE DEPARTURE 107 Do you wish it, my brother ? 'T will come, and your heart, it shall feel First the glint of truth's mist-clouded morning, then later will burst On your sight the great orb of God's love ! In my soul, if I durst I Avould barter the promise of heaven, if only to see The full round of that infinite splendour, so won- drous to me. As in fancy I walk in its noontide and feel the sweet thi'ill Of a far-away light, (the abatement of each human iU); As I catch now and then a faint glimmer let down from the skies Of its boundless, beneficent glory ! 'T will come, and mine eyes Shall behold rise above the horizon a face like the sun, — Feet and hands with the nail-prints, the peerless, ineffable One ; Not Messias ensanguined, but kingship writ large on His brow, — The Kedresser of ^vrongs and oppressions ! Oh, hear now my vow, — I will wait as men wait for the morning, doubting not He will come ! Lo, a voice from the heights answers softly, " He will come, He will come ! " io8 THE PILGRIMS A long digression this, — To tell how God with inspiration touclied A Frenchman's heart ? How truth, full-orbed, burst Avide Ablaze o'er Europe ? How in Calvin's creed Were largesses of hope and blessing ? How Scotch Covenanters sought the mountam caves, And rocky fastnesses, to save the truth Once learned upon Geneva's heights, — ay, signed. In characters of blood, the Solemn League And Covenant to stand for truth, or die ? Brave men! And to this day their blood flows strong In many lands. Scotch Covenanters, bred On mountain, or on moor, or in the hum Of cities by the sea, came with the tides To Freedom's shores, and in this Western World Dared to confess the virile faith, and teach, From love of truth, the sovereignty of God, The parity of men ! O Gallia's son. Men crown thee greatest of the good and great ! For thine it was in these last days to snatch, Prometheuslike, from throne-usurping kings A princely boon for mortals. Thou didst raise THE DEPARTURE 109 On high the torch light of sweet Liberty Enlightening the world ! Thy creed severe The nations yet shall love. But oh, for France ! Poor, foolish, long distraught, misguided France ! We lift the fruitless cry, " Hadst thou but known The things which make for peace ! " Didst thou not spurn The noble Calvin, and so rudely say, " Away with him, away with him " ? Behold Thy peace is gone, thy house is desolate ! Gladly would he have taught the children as He wandered through thy streets the way of life And peace, and, as a hen her tender brood. So safely sheltered them ! Behold, thy form Lies prostrate in the dust, while Ishmael-Jays Are wild with joy. See, on thy body prone The carrion-kites their grewsome feast begin ! The once Messias-Calvin cries from some Far Olivet, (his voice is full of tears), — " O Gallia, the boon was thine, hadst thou But known the things which make for peace. The blight Is thine, and thou shalt die ! Thy day has lost Its once meridian splendour, — see, the Sun Sinks in the West ! " A dying nation ! writes no THE PILGRIMS The armless hand upon the wall, which who That runs may read ! John Calvin, on the heights, Wrote Magna Charta for the world ! The sun Had tipt with golden beams the Cedar's head. The fir and branching elm were lit with light. As from the towering mountain's crest, and far As ScROOBY in the North men felt the quick Of hope, and though born puppets, poor and weak. Came Princes to the gates of Leyden, — so Knocked, entered and were saved ! O gliding YEARS, O THRICE THREE YEARS AND TWO, how fitly tell The destinies en wrapt in thee, thou poor. Frail midget in eternities that come, And go ! How shall we estimate the size And worth of heartbeats, fraught with pain for land And kindred, loved and lost? How^ shall we make It clear to lumbering, w^ork-day minds the truth Of truths, that tiime is naught ? How show, that deeds Lie deeper than the form, which gives the noio, And then, (})erspective temporal), while all THE DEPARTURE iii That IS, ay, truly is, abides timeless. And SPACELESS, e'en across the deep abysm Of being ? Spaceless, timeless all that is ? Receive, believe it, friend ! There is no time, Save such as seems. There is no temporal void In which a purpose may its counsel take Of deeds which men shall praise. Deeper than time, And forefront to eternities stands will, — God's will, and thine, and mine ! What boots it then, If cunning men shall say, eleven years Are but a handbreadth, far too small to breed A purpose big with destiny ? Nay, plans And purposes live not in years. God is, — They are ! Deeper than this there is no truth, — Though tIxME seems strangely true to such as earn A work-day wage ! A lilt of loneliness To some is better than the doubtful depths Of a Platonic dream. Temper the winds, Shall we, to lambs so closely shorn ? Here's then A rest, (a melancholy shade), the while Our Pilgrim story girds its loins : [2 THE PILGRIMS Bohemian sad, sweet singer, oft In childhood's hours with tender thrills my heart Responded to the measured melody Of Old Dog Tray. No dog seemed half so good, So gentle and so kind as Old Dog Tray. E'en now, as back o'er long-neglected years I hear the echo of a vanished joy, His name and fame a loving retrospect Compel. The past is peopled with the loved Of those sweet years, and forms so dear, now long Eeturned to dust, are reincarnated With youth and beauty, grace and loveliness ; The hearthstone's busied with the loving deeds Of mother, (dear, sweet mother), as the while With honest, dreamy face sits Old Dog Tray Upon his haunches, so sedate, so grave. And blinking to the sparkles, as they light The ingle with their fitful glow ! Old Dog, Ah, dear old dog ! My heart-strings strangely quick And quaver, as in reminiscent moods, I picture the dear Past ! Again Avith loved Ones on the village green I feel the joys, (The early, artless joys), which made my life A very dream of bliss, — but oh, the flood Of years since these have been ! THE DEPARTURE 113 And when old friends Are fled, and grief far up the steeps has led Her sombre brood, and Sorrow, with her Sighs, Has wailed in tearful tones, " The morn of life Is past, — the evening comes at last," this sweet Refrain, and palpitate with trust in one True friend, (a sorrow's surcease), fills my heart With peace and tender tears ! Ay, tears, though not Of rue or ruth, but joy perennial. That Love shall triumph over Grief, and its Sweet ministry proclaim, that all that lives And loves is one vast brotherhood. So teach Me, MINSTREL, when grief comes, that love is law; That in Creation's bounds a heart beats strong For hearts in pain and grief, that all the world, (The living, sensate world), feels kinship, when Man veils his face in sorrow. Minstrel, teach Thou me the kinship of all things that breathe ; And when my life is spent, has vanished tone And tint, and grief a dear heart's heart shall pierce And pain, oh, may some sweet refrain bring And solace then, — some note of kindred care, Some cadence on the air, as gentle and As kind as " Old Dog Tray." 114 THE PILGRIMS Bohemian, or no, I love thy songs. Inventor of no moods, Content to touch the common chords and set A-quiver life's great harp, attuned to joys And griefs of palace or of hut, thou art Inmiortal in the songs men sing. Live thou Forever, — art dies not ! The granite shaft, Which blazons thy great fame and proudly says, " Behold one worthy of art's golden crown," Shall crumble, but thy melodies shall live. Songs from thy lyre shall fret the air, and strains, Which first throbbed in thy soul, shall ages yet Speak peace to tried and troubled hearts. Thy name's A household word. As long as rippling rills, And sounding shoals, and seas with soughing sighs Te Deums raise, so long thy melodies, (Sweet-metered ministrants), shall healing bring. And balm. In palace, or in hut ; where youth And beauty while the thoughtless hour, or men, Grown gray with burdens, feel the stress of all This weary, unrequiting world ; in lands Kemote, in mountain fastnesses, or down By sounding seas, notes from thy lyre, far-famed, Or fugitive, still linger, whilst thou sleepest A long and dreamless sleep. THE DEPARTURE 115 Live, thou, in song, — Art does not die ! In babbling brooks we hear Thee, and in sough of sad sea waves ; in lark And oriole ; in piping plover ; where The scarce harmonious sounds of distant dunes Enchantment lend to salt and sandy wastes, Thou art a Presence to disturb men's minds With thoughts and loves of long-departed years. E'en in all lands and in all sounds art thou. "We train our eyes upon the empyrean, — And lo, thy Star is there ! You've felt Prenatal pains, ere yet the womb gives forth Its freight, a precious, wailing life, and weak ? You've seen bold seamen on the shore, in spite Of angry waves, prepare to launch their boat. Though frail ? So, all-expectant these busied Themselves with this, now that, while ever the sense Of a divinely ordered way their feet Must tread beguiled the passing hours. Here found They rest from Herod and his hounding horde Of predatory priests and prelates. This, A sAveet surcease, (their noonday rest) ; — a brief Siesta^ (clept from cumbering cares) ; — a booth, When scorching wrath would deal its deadening dole ; — ii6 THE PILGRIMS A hurdle^ by which wolves are kept at bay, (The sheep safe folded) ; — a revetment^ when Proud, angry waves would whelm them fathoms deep ; — A sheltering shade, and 'neath its umbrel-bowers A rich foretaste of heavenly joy ! 'T was here They girt their loins, (took breath), while ever their hearts "Were set on one dear pui'pose to recoup The loss of ScROOBY, find on distant shores A home, gain foothold, — basement for the vast Emprise of civil rights for peasant as For prince ! O fair Dutch land, a covert, thou, A refuge from the storm ! The heat of wrath Thou didst allay, as by the grateful shade Of friendly bowers, — nursing mother thou Didst prove to Exiles, and the thralls of all The lands found succour at thy breast ! Let love Be thine, and peace and plenty, — thine the boon Which Heaven bestows on signal worth, and thine The matchless glory of a name which shall Not die ! Ah, Leyden, loved of God, thine were Benignant skies. Dutch burghers, staunch and brave. THE DEPARTURE 117 'T were no mean prize to mingle blood with yours. For such an honour Britons might have turned Their backs upon the kingliest crowns, and trothed With you. Ay, marriage might have bound the twain In one ; and from such mingled virtues would Have sprung a race to change the destiny Of Europe and efface her weakness and Her shame ! Let fancy lift the veil which hides "What might have been." Fair, youthful faces rise Above the marge, — the beautiful, the strong, And marriage and the festal hour beguile Two peoples, knit as one, with largest hopes And tenderest joys ! ('T is but a vision.) Here At unlit hearthstones unborn maidens blush With consciousness of beauty, — there the light Of lofty purpose wreathes the brow of men Who would have ruled the world ! And wedding bells Ring out the joys of pure domestic bliss. The dayspring of a hardier race than yet The world has known, (nor English nor yet Dutch,) ii8 THE PILGRIMS A progeny to fill the world with hope ! Ay, Fancy hears the song which poets might Have sung, of love and love's increase, as when She wears the orange flower, or when on oft Recurring nuptial days he plights his troth With her to aye be true : Twenty-five years, O crescent love ! Twenty-five years, how the shadows move ! We spend our years as a tale that is told ; Yet the lives of the twain will ever prove, That the heart of true love can never grow old. Twenty-five years, what a march of time ! Oh, see how the lights and the shades combine To tell of the joys and the sorrows known By these who have loved with a love divine. Through all the ills which the years have sown. Twenty-five years, oh, the sweet refrain, As they plight their nuptial vows again ! Love's troth once more at the altar seen ; While the hearts of the loving, happy twain Responsive beat to the joys that have been. Twenty-five years, oh, the tender ruth Of each for each in the bonds of truth ! The heart's sweet thrill of forgiving grace And the lover love of their early youth The faint, last fear from their hearts efface. THE DEPARTURE 119 Twenty-five ^^ears ! Bring the myrtle bough, An emblem fit for a deathless vow ; Trim a lithesome wreath of the laurel green, A chaplet meet for a fearless brow, — A proof of the love that long has been. Twenty-five years ! Bring the lilies dight, And orange blooms, that a crown of white May adorn the head of the lady fair. Whose heart is as pure as the morning light, When it shines through the lambent, living air. Twenty-five years, — now the beaker fill ! Pour the wine of love with a royal will ; Pour libations out to the coming years ! Fill the love of life with the life of love, till The world feels a dearth of sighs and tears 1 Twenty-five years, — may this day again Return with its harvest of golden grain. And Fifty Long Years fill the chalice up With the wine of love for an honoured twain, — With this rare old wine fill their loving-cup ! Let Fancy's sweet Prevision of the years prove fruitful fact, As blooms precede the ripened grain, then were Two peoples knit by marriage, and a race Had been of Titans, whose resistless might Would topple down kings' thrones and change the map Of TIME ! I20 THE PILGRIMS God's paths seem devious, — His ways Are dark ! Puppets at Scrooby, hated by priest And prelate, one day come to Leyden, crowned By God's good grace, for empire vast, (hidden From work-day eyes, yet seen by Prophet-Seers), — Truth's Sovereign Sway o'er all the tyrannies Of earth ! 'T was theirs to raise a standard and To torch the path to freedom, — theirs when night "Was at its depth, nor stars could guide, to point The goal, the beaconing bourne, and treasure-house Of all earth's coming hosts ! As if the skies "Were filled with tongues, they hear a voice, " West- ward The course of empire takes its way ! " A truth. And fitly said ! But who save poet-seers Had dared to dream, that one fair Autumn day, The Delft should see a band of Pilgrims, bowed In prayer, in numbers few, intent to do A DEED all times call great ! Hard by the Delft A boat moves with the ebb and flood, the while A man of God, John Eobinson, lifts voice In prayer. It were perfection of all art THE DEPARTURE 121 To tell the deep, rich undertones of faith, The childlike trust, the pleading voice, that God Would keep them safe who there embarked, and guide Them o'er the Deep, — the upturned, reverent face. Beseeching look, the tender pathos, as He spoke of parting, and the prayer, that these Who tarried for a season, might at length Rejoin their dear ones in that far-off land Beyond the seas ! And when in tearful tones He spoke of severed ties, the deep, low moan, The stifled sob, plainer than words can tell, Revealed the parting pain. The die was cast. The DEED was done, and these shall men call great ! Into the light now come. Behold On eastern hilltops orient gleams Usher the dawn. Forest and wold. Ravine and wooded glen, the beams Reflect, like echoes from the deep Of caves ; and lo, above the marge Rises a face ! The shadows creep, 122 THE PILGRIMS Thief-like, westward, just as a barge Freighted with pirate-pillage finds Safety in sunset mists. Oh, come Into the light ! Long darkened minds Awake, as in the glow of some Eternal truth, — the Calvin-star Ascendant! Say, the blazing sun Hurtles the hydra-heads ! Afar, As 't were Apollo on the run, Amaze and trembling make knees knock And kingly faces ashen, while Prelatic zeal pales in the shock Of shattered expectation! yae, As hearts that germinate and grow The moral ulcer, till it breeds Contagion, and both high and low "We seek in vain unselfish deeds In friend and brother, was the blight Which settled over Europe, till Genevan heights sent forth a light, — The heralding of God's great will ! BOOK V A Tale of the Sea The Theme, — The Pilgrims after leaving Holland made their first start for the new world from South- ampton. On the claim that the Speedwell had sprung a leak they put back to Dartmouth. From this port Ihey made a second start, and on the fact, or pretense, that the ship was not seaworthy they put into Plym- outh. Here the Speedwell was abandoned, and those who were not entirely disheartened transferred to the Mayflower. On the sixteenth of September they finally set sail for the new world, and after a stormy and trying voyage of some sixty-five days saw the land. This book supports the contention that God is forefront in the march of truth. God's fore- knowledge and plan embraced the entire course of the Pilgrims, and every consequence, including the voyage and the incident of the Jackscrew, the dreadful first winter in New England, the American Civil War, the emancipation of the slaves, the Pilgrim Prince and the Cavalier in conflict at Gettysburg, the triumph of the Calvinistic Creed, the Cuban's cry for help, and the charge up San Juan. The pertinent question of this book is. Did God approve, or maJce, the Pilgrim Plan ? You take your choice, and pay the price ! This canto closes with the explanation of ''the philosophical creed," and with the epilogue, " My Home in me." ' A Tale of the Sea Out and out on a boundless sea, Far out from the land that is home to me Is heard the droning sough of the sea, Like a muffled voice that is calling me ; And I know far out on that boundless SEA Abides a Presence that is calling me. Out and out and far away I hear the sighing waters say. In tones that are muffled and far away, In sea-tones sad I hear them say, " Thy heart's true home is far away ; Come home, come home," I hear them say. Out and out on a shoreless deep, "Where sleepless wraiths their vigils keep. Is heard a Voice that is low and deep, " The appointed tryst I'll siu-ely keep ; Come out, come out on the shoreless deep ; Faith's faltering faith I'll surely keep." And I know in my heart that a Pilot true Will guide my barque o'er the deep so blue ; He calls me now, I know 't is true ; I can hear Ilis voice o'er the waters blue ; 'T is the loving voice of my Pilot true He calls me now from the deep so blue. 125 126 THE PILGRIMS Ho ! men, who flout and fleer the Pilgrim blood, What say you now ? Time-servers, what say you ? Crj:ed critics, and wise men of larger breed. What also you ? Call th.Q^G fanatics, doomed To lowest rueful pits of dark mischance And mad, mistaken zeal for truth ? What had You said, if on a sad September day, Out of the Bay of Plymouth, you had seen A boat and frail, sore fraught with souls, sail forth, Prow Westward turned, intent to tempt wild winds, (All Neptune's wrath), precursor of great deeds, — Men, wives and children, (sweethearts too), em- barked, (Ship weighted to the gunwale's almost edge), And on to find a home on barren shores ? And CREED-and-CALViN haters, you to whom Predestination^ is a scare-word big With darkest portent, prone to make knees knock And faces ashen, what say you ? Was God's , Hand there, or no ? If no, then happy chance, — The Pilgrims' luck ! Why not ? So, then, 't was just Their luck, one sad September day, to sail. One hundred souls and two, out of the Bay Of Plymouth, e'en to cross a trackless sea ! " Bad luck," you say, " bad luck for princes," so It seemed ; for twice from Albion's harbours, hearts A TALE OF THE SEA 127 With hope elate, and canvas filled, two ships, (The Speedwell and the Mayflower), launched, (afloat On ebbing tides), fare forth, and twice return ! Leak-sprung, wind-tried, the Speedwell, (manned by knaves), Baffles the harried Scrooby-Pilgrims, till At Plymouth, half their number sore perplexed, — (Ay, tricked by fell deceit), give up the flight. New deal I For now the summer's well-nigh spent, (Much substance also spent), and knaves absolved From compacts, so shall souls one hundred two, The firstlings so to speak, unblemished, strong. Thrice sifted, — once at Scrooby, once again At Leyden, yet once more at Plymouth, tricked, Ay, tempted, troubled, tried, the Mayflower choose ; Transfer themselves, their chattels, (slender store). To one frail barque. " So staked their all," you say, " r)n one slim, last despairing chance ? " Nay, but On faith ! Ay, strong, unw^avering faith, that God, In plenitude of grace, had chosen them, — Would also guide them safe, though boisterous storms Might hound them Herod-like! Staked all on chance ? Nay, sir, on faith., that though the labouring craft 128 THE PILGRIMS MigM cringe and creak, yet in the calm of faith, And unperturbed repose, could say to those "Who manned the ship, " Ye bear the Ark of God ! " Bad luck, that these, the firstlings of the flock, Unblemished, strong, unswerved by cunning craft, (Thrice sifted ere they journeyed o'er the Deep), Should feel the stress of storm-tossed, treacherous seas, Till out of night dawn ushers day ? If chance. Then good, — Darwinian wisdom worth our while To know, how now the fittest shall survive, And those less fit shall fail and find an end ! Say, CREED-and-CALViN haters, you who fear Predestination so, stern earthquake-word, What say you now ? 'T was just their luck, a chance, That brought them safe o'er surging seas, — or say, An afterthought of God, who wills at times To take a hand, when deeds grow big ? Too small The ripple on a Scrooby sea long since To merit Heaven's care ? Ever the way • With men who fear the earthquake-word, — all's chance, Undreamed of luck, and God's a derelict, Some miles away, until the battle's won, Then comes to claim the fame, (the lion's share). Prize money, booty, all,— so very like Our human manners, moods, and ways ! A TALE OF THE SEA 129 The sky was dark, (a dismal sight) ; The true was false, the good was bad, The day dawned into blackest night, And sorrow laughed and joy was sad ; And from the nightmare spell that changed The polar opposites in me, A bird, ill-omened, slowly ranged, — A raven-croaking mystery ! I saw an Angel on the wing ; He touched my brow, the false was true ; I heard a minstrel chorus ring Eeveilles in the vault of blue. The shadows fled, the light once more Filled earth and sky and bower and hall ; From mountain peak to sounding shore Calm quiet brooded over all. And thus I know the good in me. Sweet Angel, will at last prevail. And Night and all its minions flee, And Evil flicker to its fail. Calvin, Or no, the truth frowns terrible and balks The base insinuation, that for one Least minute God was derelict ! Who dares Deny, that God was forefront in affrays At ScROOBY ? Made He not poor puppets strong. I30 THE PILGRIMS When strength alone the truth could save ? Inclined He not the Leyden burghers to ope wide The gates ? 'T was no Darwinian chance, that one Of Gallia's sons should from Genevan heights Speak forth the dread, portentous word, and wide O'er Europe send amaze and trembling, meet To ashen-blanch the sternest face. God saw, (Foresaw), a woeful wickedness enthroned, — And loud through Calvin thundered. No ! From Light's First dawn upon abysmal chaos was His gracious will to lay arresting hands On sightless error and defeat the arch Conspirators against the march of truth From ScROOBY ! He had seen, (foreseen), the gloom, — Kings' choler and prelatic zeal, anon, His Pilgrim-puppets in prenatal throes, (The presage of a precious birth), — the flight, "With Leyden's gates ajar, — a boat, wind-tossed On dark, tempestuous seas, — a winter's night Of suffering on bleak New England shores ! God looked again, — a mighty nation stood A TALE OF THE SEA 131 Upon its feet, and Strife and deadly Feuds Divided part from part, — 'twas slavery's blight With baleful finger-tips had touched the springs Of life ! Shall say, God saw, (foresaw) ? Nay, planned And heralded its doom through Calvin, and So taught the world the parity of men ! Predestinated, (that's the word), the march Of truth, — the Pilgrim-Prince and Cavalier Upon the Field of Gettysburg, (the strife And carnage), North and South distraught, the land Restored and reunited, one in plan And purpose, great beyond the hope of men. The triumph of the creed, — the Cuban's cry. The fierce, mad charge up San Juan ! Once we heard a voice on the bluff March gale ; And it said, " Kinsmen, hail ! Let our friendship last long as love doth last. And have done with a worn-out tale ! " And our hearts were stirred by the wild wind's blast, And the voice on the bluff March gale. So we tuned our harp to a kindred song, " We severed have been too long " ; Let the " worn-out tale " forever fail, 132 THE PILGRIMS " The tale of an ancient wrong ; And our friendship last long as love doth last, And be stronger than death is strong." Thus we answered our kinsmen over the sea : Happy and strong are we ; Happy and strong in this night of wrong ; Happy and strong are we ; Strong in the love of our kinsmen strong, Who dwell far over the sea. Hail, Britons ! We greet you, hail ! We have done with the " worn-out tale." You have given us cheer in our night of fear, — The right shall now prevail ; True friends in need are friends indeed ; We have done with the " worn-out tale " ! We answer as man to man. Sons of the selfsame clan ; We give you the grasp of the hand's true clasp ; We answer as man to man ; — As long as the English tongue shall last We will trust you as brothers can. Hail, Britons, lords of the sea ! We twain shall brothers be ; In an Empire vast that shall ever last Our tongue shall spoken be ; We will march in the van as brothers can, Whose love is as deep as the sea. A TALE OF THE SEA 133 Long live the queenliest Queen The nations have ever seen ! With a record as white as the crystal bright Transmitting the sun's pure sheen ; American freemen speak loud the praise Of Briton's queenliest Queen ! Yes, we answer as man to man, As only brothers can ; We will take our place with our kindred race ; We will march in the nations' van ; Our love shall be strong as our hate was wrong ; We answer as man to man. The Star-Spangled Banner on the breeze now blows With the shamrock, thistle and rose. Like friends as true as the sky's deep blue ; Our wills none dares oppose ; Our troth is as true as the sea's deep blue, Whenever the war-wind blows. Hail, kinsmen, far over the sea ! Happy and strong are we ; Happy and strong in this night of wrong ; Happy and strong are we ; Strong in the love of our kinsmen strong Who dwell far over the sea ! This length To say, God sees all deeds, link fitting link. Step timing step, in one unbroken march 134 THE PILGRIMS To civil and religious liberty ? Kay, what God knows, and wills, (these t"vvo are one), Binds all free actions into one great plan, God-centred and sustained ! 'T is sovereign will In league with sovereign grace, eternal act, Nor thine nor mine, my friend ! Did God ajpprove, Or make the Scrooby-Pilgrim plan ? Fear not, — The barque from bottom barnacled to jibs. From poop to keel, from stem to stern, was God's,— Planned in the counsels of His grace, ere time. Birdlike, had ranged ! What ? This insensate thing Of shipwright craft, wind-tossed on trackless seas, (Poor, dumb and dry-dock thing), from jib to keel Was God's ? Ay, His barque, and predestinate ! E'en so the march from Scrooby, famed for an Immortal deed, to Santiago and The daring, brave Eough Eiders' charge ! " Don't cheer, boys. The poor devils are dying ! " And the voice of the speaker Was choked with emotion, As with horror he saw A TALE OF THE SEA 135 Spanish rage and devotion. " Don't cheer," he said ; For off towards the shore, Hacked, shivered and shattered Stood the Squadron of Spain, Black, beaten and battered. O God, what a sight For a sailor to see, Whose heart has a touch Of sweet charity, — The decks running red With the living outflow Of Spanish devotion And valour ! I know There is not a brave heart In American blue But could weep for the Spaniard Who stood strong and true To the flag of his country On that fatal day, When out from the harbour, Leagues and leagues far away From kindred and country He sailed. And the Commander Who said it proved his valour indeed Was as great as the heart Which had prompted the meed 136 THE PILGRIMS Of compassion and pity For brave, fearless men In defense of their country and fiag. On history's page, On, on in the annals And age after age, Are the deeds which were done In compassion and pity For foemen and strangers Crushed, humbled and beaten ; And his name men will honour Long centuries still Who Avith kindness of heart And firmness of wiU Could say, " Don't cheer, boys, The poor devils are dying ! " 'T was God Who 'plsLimedj—^redestinatedy (there's the word, The earthquake word), the flight from Scrooby, chose From all eternity His Pilgrim band, (Though not for worth in them, but gave them Avorth Through years of stress), — it pleased Him so ! How fares It now with SOULS one hundred two afloat 1 A TALE OF THE SEA 137 On treacherous seas, intent to find a home On barren shores ? Can scarce repress the smile, Which sometimes furtive plays, at hardihood Of zeal to hope, one hundred souls and two, To cross the chartless Deep, envisage storms. And sternest stress ! Repress a smile ? Eather A tear, though not of grief, but heartfelt joy, — The tender pathos, all so strangely sweet. Of Pilgrims tempest-tossed, embarked in one Small boat, men, women, children, sweethearts, wives, (Faith strong 'mid darkening skies), — 't was such a sight As makes men weep sweet, tender tears ! fair of face and pure of heart, Demandest, ere the lay is done, 1 rest a little from my art. As toilers cease, when lo, the sun Sinks in the bosom of the sea ? Nay, but I gird myself anew ; For on the heights, perchance for me, A higher height beguiles my view. The stream that babbles at our feet From loftier levels finds its way, And clouds and snow-capped summits greet The orient heralds of the day. 138 THE PILGRIMS So up and on ! I sometimes see The aureole-mist, the lambent light,- I follow fast ! Ah, not for me, That dearer day, that higher height ! But these Are now mid-ocean, and the storm which oft, When days and nights are equal, breaks in rage On hapless mariners, nor rudders rule The course, distraught the Pilgrim band! A beam Is wrested from the plates on which the beam Ends rest, — starboard and port no longer hold Against the weight of water, ah, my friend, A simple Jackscrew, mark the word ! My soul Laughs to itself a silent laugh of joy, — The wise forethoughtedness of God ! In all The humble store of souls afloat this one Lone, unsuspecting Jackscrew, brought to bear With proper craft, restores the beam, resolves The DOUBT, saves Pilgrim-princes on the Deep, — At least jacks up a drooping hope ! A TALE OF THE SEA 139 "Well, now, — The unsuspecting Jackscrew, (pivot, so To speak, a spiral pivot, point on which Should turn the Mayflower destiny), was it Man's wise provision for a looked-for need, (Preparedness for a task), a happy chance^ Or God's good deed jDredestinate ? This shall Be as you like, — a happy chance, (mere luck) ; — Man's providence, (and clearly wise), — or God's Predestined plan ! Take now your choice, and pay The price ! And so the ship sailed on, and on The Pilgrim-princes, checked and checkered by change. And seeming chance, as erst from Scrooby, erst To Leyden with its gracious gates ajar. Now out on trackless western seas, afloat. Afar from loved and lost, (God's Israel In flight), tossed, tempted, tried on life's rough sea; Balked, bafiled, buffeted, they keep the faith. And onward sail ! This day fond hope, that day Dark fear, sat in the prow, yet strong their faith, That He who led an ancient Israel band, His glory veiled in pillared clouds, would guide. And so safe haven them at last ! I40 THE PILGRIMS A sigh Rose audible, for now three thousand miles Divide them from their Albion's sea-girt shores, And oft the silent tear ! So far it seemed, And yet not far, as God counts far ; for what Is distance, if souls live and move and have Their being's root in God ? Nay, space and time Are only such as seem, mere mental forms ; — Mind's somewhat in the 'sum of learning's lore, Yet needful as t\\Q forms of things, (mind's more Than what the senses see), the moulds in which We fashion all this verdant, emerald world, (Green goggles whence we see things green), the eyes, Wherewith in dim perspective we behold The cosmic forces moving ceaselessly, As from the centre of all centres forth There issues the eternal purpose. Ah, In like perspective see the Deeds of men. Link locked in link, a chain which binds the 7ioios And thens, — a form so real in our thought, That men are prone, unwittingly, to call Time real in the real sense, as if It were a great extended void, in which All DEEDS shall have their home, and GoD and Man Live, love and labour in the realm of time ! Ay, sir, unlettered ones are fain to call A TALE OF THE SEA 141 Time real^ as when one with jaundiced eyes Sees saffron-tinge light up the face of things, And verily believes things saffron, or At least of orange hue ! E'en as I write, A smile breaks o'er my face, (a furtive smile). To think how cocksure is this naive man ! He says, " Space is man's home," (receptacle Of things), a boundless, vast vacuity In which God sets His lumps, (His molecules), To work, with predesign, and says "Now mix, — Ay, mingle and ee things ! " Explain the creed, This philosophic creed ? You have a right To hear in simple words, that no real soul^ Nor God's^ nor Man^s, nor DeviVs is in space. Or time, — these are the subject-norms through which We come to knowledge of God's world, of self In truth, so real in our knowing, yet Mere seeming, when we take into account Man's being ! Pray, abide in this large truth. And the dark waves, which oft in maelstroms drag 142 THE PILGRIMS Men down, will bear your Mayflower barque safe on O'er troubled seas, and you shall anchor, when The journey has its end ! But TIME, how swift Is seeming time, — a shuttle in the loom, — A breaking wave, — a shadow in the gloam. As now we seek to read, with straining eyes. And learn, that life is fleeting, — naught but Love Endures : The crisp air breaks in icy flakes, all is fleeting. The chafing March winds hurry on, all is fleeting. The frozen rills on all the hills Awaken to the tender thrills Of life reorient from the ills of winter hoary ; The sunlight crawls along the walls. The circling mist now rises, falls ; So great a change my heart appalls, — all is fleeting. On mead and moor, on plain and hill The flying cloud now lightens ; And o'er and o'er and more and more The smiling sun now brightens ; Yet ever comes the sad refrain. A TALE OF THE SEA 143 I hear it o'er and o'er again, — all is fleeting. The birds of spring are on the wing, all is fleeting. They soon will mate in marsh and brake, all is fleeting. Afar is heard the curlew's call ; The jackdaw's cry is first of all ; The winter's gone and past recall, — gone in his glory. The quicks now swell in mead and dell ; The growing bulb and living cell The same sad story SAveetly tell, all is fleeting. The corn will ripen in the sun ; The Summer's tasks will soon be done ; The Autumn with its ripened grain Will fill the earth with hope again ; Yet lingers in my heart the strain. Its voice is like a living pain, all is fleeting. From far and near this tale I hear, all is fleeting. It rings its changes on mine ear, all is fleeting. I see it in the passing night, I see it in the dawning light ; I read it in the pages bright of ancient story. It tells of voices hushed and still, 144 THE PILGRIMS Loved forms bereft of living will ; My heart with pain these sad words fill, all is fleeting. The rose that kissed the morning sun, Ere nightfall found its race was run ; The youth that clambers up the steep Intent on manhood's duties meet, Ere quite the summit is attained, This simple truth has fully gained, all is fleeting. The central sun his race will run, all is fleeting. Earth's given tasks will then be done, all is fleeting. Art, Science, Form, all richest thought. Creeds, Faiths, Beliefs, however wrought, "Will perish all men ever taught of human glory. All knowledge born of place and time. All systems mighty in their prime Will perish though they seem divine, all is fleeting. The dearest idol heart can claim, The gilded domes of earthly fame Will pass forever into night ; Naught shall remain to faith or sight. Save God, thy soul, and love divine ; In Him stand strong ; abide His time, — all else is fleeting. A TALE OF THE SEA 145 How worse than witless are mere words To fashion forth the soul's sore sense and brood Of sorrows ! How inapt is speech to clothe In subtilizing moods the lines, which give The grave and gay, till luminous they touch The heart's deep motions into Kembrandt feats Of shade and shine ! As if in joy's despite Some seeming casual straits relieved the mind, — The beam's mishap, (presageful of the end), — The simple Jackscrew ready at a pinch, — The seaman's death, (so bold to blaspheme God And fill the air with oaths and ribald jests, — God's recompense for shooting out vile lips. The Pilgrims well believed,— a judgment this ! ),— John Howland's rescue from a watery GRAVE, • When rolling billows hurled him from the deck,— A Pilgrim birth and death, (and still all souls One hundred two, intent to cross the Deep)— These served at times to lighten many a care. And save the heart from anguish ! Will it end. The story ? Ay, 't will end \ 146 THE PILGRIMS Full sixty days And five, they sailed, till on November ninth, (Who can forget the year ? ), at daybreak, as The Sun peeped out of the purpling East, they heard. With PAROXYSMAL JOY, the sailor's cry Of Ho, Land, Ho ! One day I mused. There came to rae The vision of a far-off past ; Alone I stood beside a sea. And slow-receding tides their last Faint kiss had left upon the sands, Where once another with me walked And held discourse on distant lands, The social frame of this, or talked On themes which look beyond the ken Of mortal eyes. And there again I seem to hold discourse, as when In sunnier days I talked with men On all the march of mind, — but not With him, ah, not with him ! For he Had gone, gone from my sight, nor aught Of this once friend now could I see. Strain eyes howmuchsoe'er to aid, — Yastness, vacuity, ay, void Was all the world of him I A TALE OF THE SEA 147 I laid My hand upon my heart, so cloyed With things of sense, and thought of him, And all the mystery of life, And death, and whether thick or thin The veil which hides him from the strife Which buffets me. And out of want That one should speak with me and save Me from my darker self, (the haunt Of frightful fears), quickly I gave Surcease to sighs, and said, " O Soul Of mine, I'll speak with thee, as one In friendly converse. I, (the whole Of all I call myself), will come And sup with thee, as friend with friend,— Will still the questioning and plaint Of all thy darker moods, and send Thee rest from fears ! " And as the faint, First glimmer of the light, which wakes The dawn, makes shadows of our forms. When once we face the East, and takes Its upward course and slowly warms The waiting West, so had new life Possessed me ! I had found myself At vaster deeps than erst, hope rife 148 THE PILGRIMS Amid doubt's chaos, — factious Guelph And Ghibelline of me at peace, The while in breathless calm of thought I felt the deepet motions cease, E'en as the sea, by storms distraught, Will ere long sink to hush. I could No longer doubt, that in the rush And riot, (evil matched with good), The hurly-burly bad in flush Of seeming triumph Avould subside, (Lie tremblingly ensconced in fear), While righteousness would stretch its wide Sea-soaring pinions far and near. Quiet the water's rale and roar. Inspire the doubting heart with strength, And lift the soul to more and more. In converse thus with self, at length. Outspoke the self in me, (which seems So more than self), " Child," said he, " I am thy home ! E'en as the beams Live in the central Sun, in me rind thou thy being's deepest root ! Thy friend, whose flesh has passed away, — He has no whither gone ! Though mute A TALE OF THE SEA 149 His voice, and, straining eyes, you say, ' Gone from my anxious sight ! ' yet know. He lives, and moves, and is, where all Things live and move and are ; and though His form lies in the dust, yet call Kot to the grave for 'plenishment Of joys despoiled. He ever lives Lime!" Thus help had come, as sent Of that which in me darkly gives Presage of life's yet larger life ; For I had found my home in me, My land Ely si an, free from strife. The quiet sense of liberty From fears, — the Guelph and Ghibelline Of all my troubled years in truce For reconcilement, (self in fine The arbiter) ; the fast and loose, (Inconstant play of fancy), brought, Perforce, to feel the sovereign arm Of that which lives in me and naught Can fathom ! " So," said I, " no harm Can come from Death, O factious fears ! There is no ' whither,' whence the soul Looks back o'er space and fleeting years. In isolation from the whole I50 THE PILGRIMS Created realm of life. It dwells In God, then, now, and evermore ! " Take up thy burdens. In the dells And dewy meads which line the shore Of the eternal river we Call life are grots and cooling shade, — Fair oases of ease and free From turmoil. Eest thou there ! The glade And upland, and the higher height May beacon, but content to do The thing which presses closest light Will break ; the fear which frightens too "Will vanish in thin air ; the worm And mid-earth minions, which distort Life's sunny dreams and deftly turn Man's shine to shade, will, aU amort And shorn of shaggy shrink, retreat, As if rebuked, into the deep Of dark oblivion. 'T is meet To think of death as shrift, (mere peep Into one's life and being), stroke Of priestly craft, whereby to cleanse The false from true, absolve or cloak Some sin, make somehow large amends A TALE OF THE SEA 151 For dereliction ; but the boon, Believ^e me, is the larger life Its gates throw open, — blazing noon Of rich fruition, free from strife, And from the fitful fever and The aching toil of weary years ! Believe me, Death is but the hand Which saves us from our silly fears. And says, " Thou shalt no whither go, When mortal pains have grappled thee, — Thou art in God ! " Ah, even so He dwells in me the larger me, — The SELF and self forever safe From dissolution, pact to hold, When worlds shall die ! The creeds which chafe Us out of happiness, and bold To place their imprimatur where Men fain would think or feel shall die ; But we in fellowship, as fair As light and sweet as song, shall hie Us on to ages without end ! In fellowship ? Ay, fellowship With SELF, the deeper self, the friend 152 THE PILGRIMS With whom we sup, and touch or tip Our elbows scarce akimbo, — home Elysian, if we find ourselves At deepest deeps ! And thus alone I held converse, as fays with elves. BOOK VI The Landing The Theme, — The Landing deals with the sign- ing of the Compact, aud the choosiug of a home. On the twenty-first day of November the Mayflower cast anchor in Provincetown harbour, and immediately proceeded to draw up a Compact, or Constitution, for their government on the land. On Saturday, Decem- ber the twenty-first, they landed on Clark's Island in the harbour of Plymouth. They spent Sunday on the island, and on Monday, the twenty-third, crossed to the mainland. On the thirtieth day of December they chose the site of Plymouth. It was not the in- tention of the Pilgrims to seek a place so far North, but the Commander of the ship either intentionally, or unintentionally, landed them at this place. Many have held that the Dutch Captain was acting for a Dutch Company who desired that the land in the region of the Hudson Eiver should be kept for them. The Mayflower expedition was financed by a London Company, known as The Gentlemen Adventurers. These laid heavy conditions on the Pilgrims, and the annual interest required was about equal to half the capital furnished. The book closes with a char- acterization of some of the leading members of the colony. The Landing Ho, land, ho ! Brave hearts triumphant ! Sweet the sound, — 't is bugle-clear ! Ho, land, ho ! Oh, hark, oh, hear it ! Rings the welkin with a cheer. Ho, land, ho ! With joy they hail it ! Freedom-loving men are they. Ho, land, ho ! The clouds have rifted, — "Watchers see the dawn of day ! Ho, land, ho ! The heart-strings quaver ! Pilgrims weep with joy to see The haven of a long endeavour, — Promised land of liberty. Ho, land, ho ! Long hast thou waited ! Lo, thy natal day is near ; In a humble barque sore freighted, List, the psalms of happy cheer ! Ho, land, ho ! What hopes have centred In the Pilgrim band and thee ! Glory in excelsis, glory To the God that guardeth thee ! 156 THE PILGRIMS Ho, land, ho ! Thy fame shall ever Lhiked with Pilgrim Princes be ; On thy 'scutcheon they've inscribed it,- Land of civil liberty ! Oh, is it, oh, is it the land they have sighted. The dim, broken coastline luring low in the West ? Oh, is it, oh, is it their hopes' rich fruition, — The LAND OF THE PiLGRiMS, the land of the blest ? Far over the gunwale dim eyes are now straining, Adim with the tears of men weeping for joy ; Long, long have they waited the sweetest of music, — The sailor's glad message, bliss free from alloy ! Oh, live, sturdy Pilgrims, on, on through the A beacon in darkness, a guide to the blind ; In character make us staunch-hearted and tender, Triumphant in realms of morals and mind. When dark o'er the nations the upas shall lower, His branches spread wide over temple and school, Twin monsters of evil. Agnostic and Devil, Oh, may your great creed all our purposes rule. Oh, the land, oh, the land, oh, the land they see ! And their hearts beat strong and joyously ; THE LANDING 157 For a Pilgrim Barque o'er the stormy seas Has come with its freight, and the joy of these In a psahn of praise o'er the water rings. Oh, the Mayflower's come, and the creed it brings Will shake the throne of the tyrant-king ; And ages on will the poets sing Of the Pilgrim Barque and the Pilgrim breed, Of the virile blood and the saving creed. Oh, the faith sublime and the tender trust. Their love of truth and their dealings just ! From the lust of gold and the curse of greed As pure as the snow on the frosted mead. May their blood rule long in freemen's veins ; Their love of truth and exalted aims Be a beacon lit to insure the way To a purer life and an ampler day ! A surcease sigh, then rest ; As when on tiptoe-strain of wavering hope And expectation, days protracted, week Succeeding week, the issue still in doubt. Despite their care, men longing wait and watch 158 THE PILGRIMS A soulless dial, while its face unmoved By doubts or fears, or hopes or joys, tells off The slowly-moving march of time, till grows An agony of pent-up, sore suspense. So tension-taut, all hearts intent, they hear Hail from the lookout watch the sudden cry Of "Ho, land, ho!" Joy, like a stream suppressed, (Held back), ay, aching ages held in thrall. Till one day, lo, as if at crack of doom. And earthquake shock removes all hindering weight, — Outbursts the stream, wells forth at floodtide gauge Unchecked, resistless, waiting water, (long Encaverned in its rocky cells), then finds A gentle level over wide-spread plains, — So Pilgrim joy ! Say, can an artist paint A purpose, deep and true, as the ruby-red Of human hearts, — a sacrifice as pure And golden as the perihelion orbs, "When nearest to the Sun ? If so, then shall His brush portray time's grandest scene, — the DEED, "Which on November's twenty-first bleak day THE LANDING 159 Made evennore the shores of sinuous Cape Cod the Bethlehem of freedom's Wrth ! For now the tunes were big, the days well-nigh Accomplished, and the travail pains bore down, As footsore and a- weary they had come, (These Josephs and these Maeys), in the throes Of expectation, far o'er trackless seas. To Bethlehem, and found nor inn nor dumb Brutes' stall for shelter and for rest. And ere The Mayflower guuAvale they had crossed there lived. As by a precious birth, a nation, born Of strong desire ! Darwinian chance was this, O Calvin-critic ? Lame luck's legacy To ScROOBY puppets on the sandy shoals, — The mere caprice of fate ? Or say, a deed Predestinate, that in a quiet nook. Far from the haunts of empire-loving men A birth should be, — a Messianic light To torch the nations ? Goddess of the free. Didst thou not travail in the pangs of hope ? Thy faith recked not the deadness of the Avomb, Nor yet the far-spent years, that from thy loins i6o THE PILGRIMS Might come a race of freedom-loving men, As many as the stars of night, and as The sands which skirt the seas for multitudes ! Bring sensibility, (a heart to feel) ; Kead in the Pilgrim tale that which the eyes Of forthright craftsmen never see, the art. Formless indeed, truth elemental and Eternal, and your soul shall live ! And if Such apprehension shall so cause to live The soul of him, who tells this tale, and breed In him the art-sense, which so subtly sees In quarried blocks truth elemental and Eternal, living, breathing, redolent Of effluence sweet, (the angel winged to fly), Oh, may not God omnipotent to do Breathe on this work-day, craftsman's hand of his, Till doors shall open to the chisel's touch, And forth the fair form flies ! A scene is here To beggar all our words ! Ere yet the ship Finds anchor in the harbour one by one They gather in the Mayflower cabin quaint And queer. All ruder sounds seem hushed, as if A DEED portentous, fraught with doom, now palled The sight. With deep solemnity, such as THE LANDING i6i Befits the gravest moods, a priestly rite, — SiiEKiNAH blazing, and the mercy seat "With cherubim, the Holiest of all, As once a year the chiefliest priest may come, They stand with heads uncovered, while in rich. Beseeching tones a Pilgrim lifted voice In prayer, that God Omnipotent would grant With sovereign care to guide them, while they shaped An INSTRUMENT, a COMPACT, CHARTA, fit To fashion bravely forth long cherished dreams Of CIVIL AND RELIGIOUS LIBERTY ! How shall we picture this strange deed ? How cause To live on canvas, and in Seignior-calm, — In colours Eembrandt-grave — the sovereign scene Which rises on the offing of the mind ? How shall Ave feature Princes, all intent To frame the Charta Maxima, a creed To guide earth's latest day to mountain peaks Of light ? And these had felt a tyrant's heel ! Words falter on the lips, the pencil drops From nerveless hands, the beating heart is still, As in a Seer-rapt scene there bodies forth A very paradox to sight,— a frail, Small barque, a council chamber crowded, cramped i62 THE PILGRIMS And low, while rising Titan-like stand, clad In dignity, brave, grave and godlike men ! Scotch Covenanters at Gray Friars' Church In solemn league to save a virile faith, Dutch Burghers, stout and brave, when Leyden, loved Of God, so long beleaguered and distraught By cut-throats of King Philip, knave, once more Kenevved its fealty to the faith to stand For liberty or die, seem not so great As these ! With prophet-eyes behold a stone Cut out of the mountains without hands, shall one Day fill the earth ! For as Excalibur, (This was King Arthur's richly-jewelled sword), "When brandished in the sun eclipsed the light Of thirty torches, so shall they, their lives, Informed by virtues, golden to the heart. Beacon all ages to the glorious deeds Of high emprise ! And as Excalibur, When cast by Bedivere into the lake's Expanse, and felt from out the deep the grasp Of an immortal hand, as thrice it waved Its jewel-brightness o'er the mere, so these Were held in the grasp of mighty purposes, THE LANDING 163 Hidden from eyes that will not see, foredoomed, One day, to lead the march of empire and The triumph of the race. Creed-critics, what Think you ? "Was this a deed colossal, fraught With doom to kingly rights, a creed to make Knees knock and faces ashen ? What say you To Calvin's earthquake creed, — the sover- eignty Of God, the parity of men ? This was A living truth, though prostrate in the dust Of centuries, predestinate to rise. One day, and topple down all kingly thrones, — The nesting places of the cockatrice. And such as suck the blood, or stick and sting The body politic, asp-like, and doom Mankind to bitter tears ! Here stopped by shoals. Or else by cunning craft, they turn the prow, (Shrouds shredded, sails in tatters, oaken ribs In seams agape, hearts fainting), to the land. They yield to fate, or Providence, (you take Your choice), give way to greed, (Dutch greed it seems), Sail round Cape Cod, and lo, they're home at last ! [64 THE PILGRIMS Home, home at last ! How shall we tell the story ? Home, home at last ; Oh, great their name and glory ! Let winter winds wail loud, And dark the storm-cloud lower ; What recks the Pilgrim band Of kingly wrath and power ! Home, home at last ! Long, long has been the vigil. Dark, dark the night. But they've a glad evangel. Let winter winds wail loud, And dark the storm-cloud lower, What recks the Pilgrim band Of kingly wrath and power ! Dark, dark the night ! Oh, long has been the vigil ; Fair dawn awakes, — Men hear the glad evangel. Let winter winds wail loud. Wild winds so frost and hoary ; ]^o hand shall stay the march Of Pilgrim fame and glory. Dark frowns the sky ; Heroic, grand endeavour ! Strong beat their hearts ; What ! Falter they ? No, never! THE LANDING 165 Let winter winds wail loud, And dark the storm-cloud lower ; What recks the Pilgrim band Of kingly "wi'ath, or power ! Ay, ho, land, ho ! And faintly fell the far Keverberating psalms on wintry winds, Wailed joyous, sweet and clear. E'en savage hearts. On sand-strewn shores might well have heard the sweet Davidic-Ainsworth melodies, so meet To tell a triumph near, the living hope In breasts long burdened with the yokelike doom Of DESTINY. They sang, and straggling woods, And far-off sounding shoals attuned themselves To echo back their songs, in pleasing plaint, — Long-metered, matchless melodies ! Perchance, In tender moods, they sang, as oft far back At ScROOBY : 1. Shout to Jehovah, all the earth 2. Serve ye Jehovah with gladness ; before Him come with singing mirth, 3. Know that Jehovah, He God is : It's He that made us, and not we : His folk and sheep of His feeding, 4. O, with confession enter ye His gates, His courtyards with praising ! 166 THE PILGRIMS Confess to Him, bless ye His name, 5. Because Jehovah, He good is : His mercy ever is the same : and His faith, unto all ages. Or if thought of guardianship Had filled the heart, they sang the Shepherd- Song,— The much-loved twenty-third sweet Psalm : 1. Jehovah feedeth me, I shall not lack. 2. In grassy folds. He down doth make me lye ; He gently leads me quiet waters by. 3. He doth return my soul ; for His name's sake in paths of justice lead me quietly ; 4. Yea, though I walk in dale of deadly shade, I'll fear no ill ; for with me Thou will be ; Thy rod Thy staff eke, they shaU com- fort me. 5. For me a table Thou hast ready made ; in Thy presence that my distresses be ; Thou makest fat my head with ointin^ oil, my cup abounds. 6. Doubtless good and mercie shall all the days of my life follow me ; also within Jehovah's house, I shall to length of days repose me quietly- THE LANDING 167 O ties Of hut and hall, — dear, sacred altar scenes, Where youth and age sang in the flickering glow Of dying embers on the hearth ! O loves. That did not long endure, — the cup of joys Now past ! E'en he who tells the Pilgrim tale, And feels his frailty, as in each new line Some imperfection treads, has ofttimes heard, In fancy, long-remembered voices, hushed In life's young spring, and fairy forms will flit Across the vista of the years, since he, In childhood's hours, with feet a russet-brown, Tramped through the dewy meads, or else, intent To seek the haunt of some loved denizen Of field or wood, came trudging footsore and A-weary home at eventide to feel A mother's warm caress ! In manhood's prime, One night, as in celestial light suffused, Kemembrance of his youth's dear, garish days Came like the floods on dry and arid wastes, And rising from his couch, in haste, his heart Surcharged with aching tenderness, he wrote, 'Mid blinding tears, the paper stained and wet, This picture of the past : Juneberry blossoms and crab-apple trees I Crab-apple blossoms and Juneberry trees ! i68 THE PILGRIMS "White dogwood blossoms, that grew in the wood ! How I would like to go back if I could, Back to my boyhood once more if I could, Back to the days when I roamed in the wood ; Free as the squirrel that grinned on the tree, Saucily squinting and blinking at me, — Happy as sunlight can possibly be, Finding rare pleasures in all I could see ; How I would like to go back if I could. Back to the days when I roamed in the wood ! Years have gone swiftly and steadily by ; If only I could how gladly I'd try Just for an hour to live in the wood, Live a boy's life and roam in the wood, Feel the keen joyance of light heart and free ; The chipmunk and ground mole my fast friends should be ; Answer the cricket and tree-frog again, Mimic the throstle and wild, warbling wren ; No such kind pleasures I've had all these years. And fond recollections rise almost to tears. As I think of the days when I roamed in the wood, And my long-lost companions I had in the wood ! And oh, for the days that I spent by the brook, Fishing for minnows with bent pin or hook ! How I would like to go back to the brook To gather white pebbles, for clam-shells to look, To watch the fish play and the kingfisher dive. And see the snake-feeder continually strive THE LANDING 169 To touch with his wing-tips the smooth water's breast, Nor e'en from his efforts a moment to rest ; I see it all now, as far backward I look ; Oh, how I would like to go back to the brook, Where often in springtime my journey I took, Just to catch minnows with bent pin and hook ! How I would like to go back if I could, Back to the days when I roamed in the wood ; Back to the house that stood far up the lane. And find all things there exactly the same, — ■ The wood-pile, the well-sweep, the garden so trim, The home of my childhood, both outside and in. And mother to greet me, as often I came. Trudging footsore and weary home up the long lane. That dear, sweet young mother, who long years ago So tenderly loved me, (she oft told me so) ; When twilight would gather she'd tuck me in bed, And see, " Now I lay me " was properly said ; O God ! I would give all I am, or shall be. To bow one more night at that dear mother's knee! But ah, just here. One says, " Why take Art's way to tell a tale Were better told in plain, straightforward prose ? State truths directly ; on from fact to fact. 170 THE PILGRIMS With logic and with fine precision draw Such meet conclusions, as the facts will fit, Then end the whole, and let's have done ! " Art has Its field, not in the changing things of sense ! That which men in a work-day world call truth, — Mere seemingness of things, laws, science, due Proportion of blind forces, (blind to those Who will not see), the atom, if you please, — Pure fiction of our picture-loving sense, Yet potent in the science of our day. Lame lumps to conjure with, — these are not truths, Truths real and abiding, but the modes Of truth ! Say, shadowings, while truth itself, Lies not within man's vulgar gaze, appeals Not to the intellect, or sense, is first, — Ay, primal and eternal in the flux And flow of work-day worlds ! Believe me, akt A double purpose serves, — records \hQ facts, (The seemingness of things), and bodies forth For SENSIBILITY truth's own true self ! Historic prose, O Critic, what is that ? Art tells ikiQ facts, nay, goes heyond the facts, — Brings to the apprehending heart, or soul, (Or whatsoe'er shall stand for faculty Of truth), the esseiices of things, the self. THE LANDING 171 The inner self of things ! Nay, art can see Beyond the facts, — else truth, and beauty, (God), Are empty words, and foreign to the soul ! Art tells the tale? Twice so, — informs men's minds With all-engrossing facts, (mere seeming things), And purifies the heart, so saves the soul ! Art's way shall tell the facts, both fanciful And fixed, (twice tell the tale), regale with facts Stupendous all the lounging, wide-mouthed throng. And startle them to agony, as like. Of wonder seven days in length, and save Their souls ? Nay, art, if souls shall live, must do Its work in art's own way, — must reach the heart ! Must tell in seeming artless way, (which is Perfection of all art), how puppets, once Despised and weak, stood one day Princes crowned At Leyden's gate, dared cross the trackless seas, Envisage storms, the perils of the Deep, And on the sand-girt, wild New England shores. Loomed Titans in the annals of the race ! Say, save the soul ? Art's way it is to grasp The verities, that change not in the flux And flow of all this great round cosmic cheat, 172 THE PILGRIMS So real to our senses, yet so less Than witless wind in the eternities That wait the ransomed soul ! And if, perchance, An artist shall relume the living deed Of centuries past, with chisel's touch shall bid It rise and live, say, " There's LAOCOOisr, let Him strive, and die ! " or better, " Here is your St. Peter's, sir, — now enter and be saved ! " If he with cunning artist-skill, shall touch It into life and immortality The crowning deed, the truth which formless, yet Kot fruitless, lies in his own breast, and bid It live and breathe, the Pilgrim tale, will he Not also live ? Behold they stand on bleak New England shores, houseless and shelterless ! The winter winds go wildering to the sea, And come again laden with blinding blasts, — While the dark sullen clouds and leaden skies, Eeckless of hearts long-burdened with the weight Of DESTINY, look on in angry mood. But they are not alone ! A gracious hand With palm outspread is shelter, ay, and shield ! The hounding wrath of Herod and the thick, THE LANDING 173 Deep night, which ages long had palled the light Of truth, the cruel screed of catchpoll-priests That hurtled o'er the heads of men who would Not worship at the King's behest, the storm And tempest's rage, wild beasts and savage men, A winter's awful night, nor all the foe Of truth could muster, once availed to check The onward march of men, whose highest joy Was fealty to their God. If this were all, Then might we say, they did their best and worst, These demons of the night, — that all the brood Of hell conspired against the truth, and yet "Without avail, that Principalities, And Powers of the Air, intent to do Them hurt, in the pale face of truth, saw signs Of coming wrath, and fled like hunted stags, When great Apollo draws the bow ! This was Not all : The biting greed of gentlemen ADVENTURERS, with big incorporate rights To take the pound of flesh, to merchandise In man's necessities, (so gorge their scrips) ; Ay, levy tribute on the weak, and prove The rule, that little fish shall feed the large, — 174 THE PILGRIMS Was this the straw to strain the camel's back ? Shall not all gentlemen adventueers Demand the fleece, and have their claims allowed, (Trusts' way), and by authority of law Throttle the victim, till the dole is dealt, (The robber-baron's right) ? With might enforce The utmost farthing of the pact, or squeeze The drupe to its last drop ? So I, in wrath, Brooding on all that these had borne, — the years Through which they toiled to break the fetters which Had bound them fast, — the scene on Humber's banks, — The FLIGHT with Herod on the track, — took reeds, To pipe in harsh, uneven tones, the scorn I felt for deeds which make men mourn ! I laugh, O my soul, a strange laugh, as I think of the strife And contention of darkness and light, the low schemes that are rife In the counsels of Satan and those he would choose to enthrone In high places, the Herods and Prelates, who ever make groan Pilgrim puppets and such as seem weak, till at length in His wrath THE LANDING i75 And fierce anger God turns ! (I chuckle and laugh a low laugh.) You have seen the great king of the canines, noble MASTIFF, at last Patience tried past endurance, turn fair on the flee, with a blast Of his fury send yelping amain the mean curs, as they howl At his heels ! So God says His no ! to the Princes that prowl In the night, (Principalities, Powers), and back with affright Pell-mell rush Prelates and Devils till far out of sight, — How strikingly fair is the figure ! I laugh, as I think How they cower and flee at a breath of His nostrils, a blink ; How the myriad minions of Satan are matched by a touch Of His finger, a word from His lips, the usurpers and such As bear sway over conscience and fetter men's souls. And I laugh A dark laugh of stern enmity, deep in my soul, a glee, half Of it hatred and half of it scorn for a conscienceless creed 176 THE PILGRIMS That enslaves men and makes them the puppets and prey of a greed Hell-begotten I I wis that the Caui-Mark indelibly seals For perdition the brow of the Statesman, or Ruler, who feels No compassion for brothers deprived of their God-given right To the fruit of their toil and the free air of heaven, the light Of the sun, and a voice in all laws by which they are ruled. God grant by a touch of thy grace my hot brow may be cooled ! For I see, with a blush and the blood mounting high on my cheek The cannibal instinct of men who would feed on the weak, — Feed their flesh on the flesh of a brother, and build their great thrones On a carcass and skull ! Is there aught, save God's blood, that atones For a deed so unspeakably cruel and vile ? Oh, I feel. As oft at the shrine of God's infinite goodness I kneel, Pierce my soul the keen iron of hate for a creed which denies THE LANDING 177 To a peasant his heirship with Princes, and all it implies Of the freedom and right to maintain all unfettered his soul ! For the blood-mark of Cain on men's brows is the proof of the dole They so cruelly deal to then* brothers, pour into their lap Only hate, when the soul is a-famished for love, ay, and cap The great climax of wrong with pretense of faith's fealty to God. (How they bow at the mandates of Satan, his beck, or his nod ! ) Have you seen, when the fall winds grow bitter, the kine on the lee All a-huddled and drawn close together, as if from the sea To ward off from each other the cold, chilling blast ? And shall they. Men born in God's unage, the sons of a King, not to-day Stand more closely in phalanx, as firm as the adamant hills 'Gainst oppression and cannibal, conscienceless greed and the ills Of an age, when men trample their kind in the dust for the gain It will bring ? And shall men more than beasts without conscience and aim 178 THE PILGRIMS Fear to stand ? Shall they stand, as they stood back at Scrooby, a herd In the storm all a-huddled and helpless, without e'en a word Of resentment 'gainst prelates and priests, and the fiend-fury wrath Of a King ? But the God of Sabaoth whose hand ever hath The oppressed in its keeping, (I laugh in high glee), set His FACE Fierce to Satan, checkmated his game, took his trick with an ace, As men say, till at length, in His name, stand they Princes, and crowned At the gates of dear Leyden, loved Leyden, forever renowned For its measureless meed of compassion to Pilgrims in flight ! Have you seen in the springtime all sun-crowned in full blaze of light Far above the high fir trees the cedar's tall form loom so grand On men's sight ? So they seemed, so they were in both soul, heart and hand Like tall cedars ! I picture them pigmies that howled at their heels, — THE LANDING 179 Cruel curs, with a snarl and a penny-fice howl at their heels, All unworthy to loose their shoes' latchet, or climb to their feet In an act of obeisance, the soul-stoop, low, prone, as is meet From mere churls, (shall I say it ?), who fatten themselves on the crumbs Princes leave ! But a song of the cedar and fir tree now thrums In my soul : Lift your heads, O ye cedars ! The firs on the hills Are a-ripple with sunshine. The tinkle of rills Down the hill-slopes, the chirrup of birds fill the morn With sweet voices, the eve with a dirge as forlorn As the sough of the sea, when the Autumn winds wail. Lift your heads, O ye cedars. Thrice hail, and all hail ! Lift your heads, sun-crowned cedars ! The larch and the fir Feel the glow of the sunshine, the rustle and stir i8o THE PILGRIMS Of the birds at their matins and vespers, I ween ; While the sun in his journey gilds all with the sheen Of his limitless light from the East to the West. Hear my song, O ye fir trees, — the cedar is best ! Lift your heads, kingly cedars, tall Pilgrims in flight Far above the high level. The Oak in his might Stands a giant in stature, strong-rooted and based ; — Stands a pigmy that giant, its branches inlaced With the Larch and the Fir, as the cedar's tall form Bears aloft its great arms, bares its head to the storm. Lift your heads, Pilgrim-princes ! The races of men Are the larches and firs and the oaks of the fen, — Are the pigmies that prattle, the puppets that groan, At the feet of a Monarch mere vassals and prone. THE LANDING i8i Lift your heads, Pilgrim-pkinces ! On moun- tain and lea Dwell the Pilgrim descendants unfettered and free ! As I ended the song, a simple refrain, Humming softly the anapest measures again and again, There grew rife in my heart strange fancies, as from over the years Came the echo of deeds done in anguish of spirit and tears. And I said to my soul, " Will truth again rise from the dust, As at ScROOBY, stand upright, once more balk, or baffle, the lust For man's blood ? Shall the labour and toil of the millions but feed The rapacious prey-birds, cram their maws, so a-famished with greed, As with scream and fell swoop from their eyries they light on their prey ? Shall truth, stiff, stark, stolid with horror, stand palsied for aye, — Stand speechless and voiceless, as prone on the prey with beak And talons struck deep in the vitals and flesh of the weak The inhuman of men slay their brothers ? Leave men to the fate i82 THE PILGRIMS They seem fit for, rent, riven and ravished of all but the hate Born of ages of greed and oppression ? Then I who had seen In the springtime the bulbs burst and bloom, and the flowery sheen Of the meadows and hilltops reveal the promise and pledge Of fair fruitage and harvests of ripening grain, and the hedge Which encircles the vineyards grow green in the deepening glow Of the sun, as he marches still Northward, said, " So, ay, e'en so. Shall rise in men's hearts, like sweet fountains of healing and balm. To assuage and allay the distemper with infinite calm, A new love for their fellows, as ages ago in our kith. In a far away Judean village, (a legend or myth ?), Grew an infinite joy sweet and tender, as down from the skies Came incarnate God's love to redeem men." The vision outvies All the reach and the stretch of man's faculty strong to conceive THE LANDING 183 What will be in the ages of glory, as men shall retrieve The lost power, the good they have sighed for, the joy they shall seek In the sweet ministration of service to strong and to weak. Then outburst on my vision the glory resplendent ! I saw The triumph and reign universal of love and of law ; Saw the Mountain of God undistraught, as 't was free from all hurt To the man, to the beast, to the highest, the humblest of earth ; Saw the lion and lamb sport together, the child's nimble feet Strike the dews from the verdant wild grasses in kinship replete ; SaAV its hand draw the tether, as gracefully onward and slow. Through the daisies and crisp watercresses, where sounds soft and low Fret the air with the tenderest lullabies mortals can hear. Gently lead its companions unconscious of malice or fear. While the brook babbled blithely, yet softly its message of cheer, — " Lo, the triumph of love and of law, it is here, it is here ! " t84 THE PILGRIMS Then a calm like June zephyrs, blown softly o'er lakelet and rill, Hushed my heart's peevish plaint and repining, as naught now if ill Could envisage the face, seen once darkly, the FACE I now saw, — The ineffable face plainly telling the triumph of LOVE and of law ! And so, I dare say in my heart, as my free fancy runs, That the fame of the Pilgrims will grow with the process of suns ; That the Mayflower Compact on, on, and still on, through the years, "Will bring healing and balm to the nations, assuagement of tears To hearts broken, the triumph of good, the enthronement of love ! This balsam I feel in the air, both around, and above. Intent On high emprise behold the giant race ! These were a breed to bear the brunt of winds Adversely turned upon a struggling barque. And prove to all the world, that great deeds MAKE Men great ! THE LANDING 185 Their right it was to follow truth, Where'er it leads, for had not Calvin flashed The light far over lands and seas ? Had not Genevan earthquake-thunderbolts, with all Their Calvin-coruscating blaze inspired John Eobinson to say, " If from God's Word New light shall break, then follow it, as birds The fowler's pipe " ? These were God's heralds now, Precursors of the daAvn of larger faith, — Brave seamen on an untried sea, with one Lone STAR to guide, a Bethlehem-Calvin star, A magi-beaconing light, — the Sovereignty Of God, the Parity of men ! A boon Is freedom, — let her cause prevail ! Though long Enthralled by greed, and crushed by cruel wrongs, How oft have visions of her gracious sway Haunted the sleeping and the waking hours ! From Eden's bowers, where the tendril vines And olives spread their branches, all a-freight With luscious grapes and drupes, as underneath The Parents of the race found cooling shade, Comes the sad tale of innocence betrayed. Of lives embittered and enthralled by greed i86 THE PILGRIMS Of power and gain, and the long years, through which The SERPENT, wounded by the heel it fain Would bruise, drags its slow length. The Pact is signed And sealed, and destiny is at its height ! On dark December's thirtieth day they choose The site of Plymouth, franchise dearly bought, And these are home at last ! No more on Trent's Green banks would they pursue the arts of peace ; No more in happy mood follow the path Of ScROOBY water, as in days long past They came from near and far to hear God's Word From Smyth and Kobinson, (or such as dared Proclaim the truth, despite the queenly wrath) ; No more at Scrooby Manor hear the Word, And oft, the service done, partake of bread With Brewster, generous host, and elder too, — A GUARDIAN wise of all their treasured truths ! For Good Queen Bess had died, and with her died The queenly wrath, while James, dread sovereign SAINT, The Herod and the tyrant of his day. Harried the puppets from the land ! Who were These erstwhile pilgrim-puppets, now become THE LANDING 187 The Peinces of the world ? You men, who flout And fleer the virile creed, would you not have Me sing ? I ? Shall I tell you how sweetly the chords of a metrical measure Eunelike, and ghostlike, unceasingly haunt me, — dear lost chords. E'en till I fain would recover them, sing them anew for my pleasure ? Clearly I see the path of the puppets, now Princes, as ever Brooding on times that are past, I see them in pictures and moving Grandly o'er treacherous seas ! So I pipe to the pibroch of Yirgil : Brave were the men who sailed over the seas, (and the women), so boldly, — Harried by Herodlike foes, yet intent on the holiest mission ; Puppets at ScROOBY and prone 'neath the feet of a tyrant unholy Stand one day Princes and crowned at the wide- open gates of loved Leyden, — Found there the freedom denied them in England, their homeland. Fostered the child born of travail pains felt in the labour of ages, i88 THE PILGRIMS Long intent to conceive and bring forth a PROGENY greater, Ay, grander in purpose, by far, than the stars in the skies had looked down on ! These were the men and the women undaunted by duty or danger. Fearless when Prelates and Priests had hailed them to dungeons or gibbets ; Ever in purpose as true as the stars, and so faith- ful, that nowise Feared they the wrath of the King, feared the}^ only the anger of heaven ; Feared only sin, and its guilt, and a conscience that brooks any evil, — Feared not the face of a man, though he be thrice over a monarch. Feared only God, (shall I say it ?), with love and with fealty obeyed Him ! These were the Pilgrims staunch-hearted who crowded the Cabin and Council, Titan in stature they loom in that far-away, distant perspective. Figures heroic and clothed in the garments of grandeur and glory ! How shall we tell it, the story, the worshipful, marvellous story; How in the Cabin they met, in the Mayflower Cabin assembled, THE LANDING 189 Filled with a purpose as grand as the stars in the skies have looked down on ? How shall we tell it, the story, the marvellous, worshipful story, — Pilgrims on treacherous seas, and embarked on the holiest mission, Titan-like, big with a purpose as pure as the sun- light of heaven, In their purpose excelling the Titans of myth and of story ; Standing majestic and strong on summits so high and so hoary ? These were mere puppets one day, as they toiled on the farmlands at Sceooby, Hated of Heeod, the King, and the Prelates and Priests of his kingdom, — Born to a destiny grander than stars in the skies had looked down on ! Chief in the Council of State was John Carver, first Governor of Plymouth, Chosen ere yet from the Mayflower barque the Pilgrims departed, Man of ripe years, and in wisdom and strength e'en surpassing all others, Man of affairs and vise counsels, a leader and deacon at Leyden. He with his friend, Egbert Cushman, had gone on a mission to England, Perfected plans, that the Pilgrims, erst puppets, might cross the Avjde ocean, I90 THE PILGRIMS Find an asylum for faith, — lay the corner stone of a nation ! His was the hand that first signed in the May- flower Cabin the Compact, — Signed in the faith of the triumph of truth, and of free institutions ! This was John Carver, the leader, a man of I'ipe years and wise counsels ; Titan of Titans was he in the courage of heart, and in action ! Carver, and Bradford, and Brewster, and Standish, and Alden, and Fuller ! Men of a noble breed and a purpose so pure and so vh'ile, — Lives in a pact with God, and the truth, in quest of a freedom Ages denied them were now in the Council in- tent on a purpose. Prophetlike, Seerlike, and Godlike, intent on the holiest purpose ! How would we paint in grave colours, if only our hand had the cunning, Serious faces upturned, as they kneel in the May- flower Cabin, Faces as Godlike and strong as the creed of John Calvin could make them. Faces shining, as down from the Mount came Moses with tables THE LANDING 191 Graved by the finger of God ! Do you see them, the puppets, now Princes, Cramped in the Mayflower Cabin, and seek- ing for wisdom, — Asking Jehovah to give them light, to guard them and keep them. Prosper the Mayflower Pact with its promise of hope to the nations. Prosper the Compact ordained, the Charter of free institutions ? Ah, you see them ? But who of the sons of men, on a canvas. Touched into living glow, yet grave, can paint me the picture Eyes had erst not seen in all God's boundless creation ? None, (shall I say it ?), with pencil, or brush, can show me the picture Now on my heart's four walls ! Had some artist divine Then would awake, as life from the grave, the Mayflower vision Filled with living hope, and the matchless scene on the canvas. Ghostlike, would haunt men's minds down all the ages, and ever Picture the Pilgrims Prometheus-like in service for mortals, — 192 THL PILGRIMS Picture them Titan-like, (Godlike), intent on the holiest purpose ! This is the scene then to paint, if only man's hand had the cunning, — Princes erst puppets in prayer, in the cramped, crowded Mayflower Cabin, Birthplace of liberty, law, and of popular, free institutions. Born of the Compact ordained for the healing and health of the nations ! "What did the Seer-Princes see, as they met in the Mayflower Cabin, Wrapped in the glow of seraphic light ? In the process of ages Saw they not, as the prophet sees, kingship and dominions Wane, and wide o'er the world Democracy waxing triumphant ? Brewster, the modest, the meek, the elder, the elegant scholar, — What did he see, the seraphic one, in heavenly visions ? What did he see in the Pact ? The triumph of faith and of freedom ! Brewster saw in the Pact the promise of national greatness ! THE LANDING 193 Bradford, the brave, (lion-hearted), Brad- ford, the serious statesman. Saw in the Mayflower Pact a beacon to lofty endeavour. Saw in the Mayflower Charta the promise and pledge of a nation ! "WiNSLOW, the diplomat, advocate, faithful, sagacious defender. Peacemaker, trucemaker, magistrate, (schooled in the arts of the statesman). Saw in the Pact of the Pilgrims a star in the skydust of nations, — Saw a new star in the West, in meridian splendour ascending Hesper-like, leading the stars, and resplendent in glory,— Star of the West, Calvin-star, and destined to light the whole heavens ! Warily wise was he in dealing with aliens and strangers, Truthful and just, — and a master of courteous manners and customs. Alden, the gallant young cooper, the friend and companion of Standish, Alden, the lover, (Gallant), the trusted com- panion of Standish, Alden of romance and story, the husband of charming Priscilla, 194 THE PILGRIMS Saw in the Pact of the Pilgrims the promise of social position, — "Womanhood honoured and crowned with the queenliest crowm that has ever Pressed the fair brow of a queen in the sunni- est days of an Empire ; Saw in the loyal devotion of women to purity, honour Hearthstones resplendent in virtue, in valour, in moral achievement ! This was John Alden, the cooper, the friend and companion of Standish, Alden, the silent young lover, the lover of charming Priscilla, — Loving the Pilgrim maid with a love as unselfish as ever Climbed to the feet of a duty and calmly made its obeisance, Worthily winning the hand of the lovely Puritan maiden ! Then there was Fuller, the doctor, Fuller, the kindly physician, — Heart with a pain for each sorrow and cheer for heavy afflictions. Spending his life without stint in unselfish and sweet ministration ! Thoughtfully patient and tenderly kind in his waitings and w^atchings, Guardian angel, when many a life in the deep- ening shadows THE LANDING 195 Seemed to be passing, and ever with cheering, comforting service Breathing forth hope to despondent hearts long in the thrall of affliction. This was the Pilgrim doctor, the tender and kindly physician, Serving with no thought of gain save the joy of the service he rendered, — Glad for the balm he might bring and the sweet ministration of healing ! What did he see in the Compact, the tender and kindly physician. See in the Mayflower Pact, the Charter or- dained by the Pilgrims ? This is the vision he saw in the cramped, crowded Mayflower Cabin, (This is the vision he saw by the river, the river Hidekkel),— This is the vision he saw, as he looked down the vista of ages. Standing a tree with its branches, a Banyan, spread wide o'er the peoples ; Bearing twelve manners of fruit, — its leaves for the healing of nations ! Last, but not least, is Miles Standish, the valiant, redoubtable Captain ; Soldier and patriot he, a lover of country and freedom : Skilled in the arts of a warrior he fought for the Dutch in the Lowlands ; 196 THE PILGRIMS Puritan Englishman born, in his soul he abhorred Spain's dominion Over the Lowlands and drew his sword with the ancestral courage, Centuries back, had ennobled the name and the fame of the Standish ! He had no doubt joined the Pilgrims, while yet they were living at Leyden, Drawn by his Puritan leadings to men of kindred convictions ; Though dissenting, he from Dissenters refused the Communion, — Staunchest of Puritans he refused the Church's Communion ! This was Miles Standish, the stern, the valiant, redoubtable Captain, Leader, commander in chief of the Pilgrim defenders and forces, — Fearless, a Gideon he, though a man, not of words, but of action ! This was Miles Standish, the Captain, re- doubtable " sword-of-the-white-men," There in the Council of State, in the low-roofed Mayflower Cabin, Silent, intent on the stars, the horoscope of a nation. What did he see in the Cabin, the valiant " sword-of-the-white-men" ? THE LANDING 197 See with his hand on his sword, as he sat in the Mayflower Cabin ? Saw the heavens grow bright with the promise of starlight supernal, Eead in the deep astral glow the promise and pledge of a nation Greater and grander by far than the stars in the skies had looked down on ! This was the vision he saw, the insatiable " sword-of-the-white-men," Standing an image and strong, with a sword and a trident of justice, Keady to strike off the fetters and shackles which, ages, had bound men, Valiant Kedresser of wrongs, and Avenger of blood and oppressions, — ■ Noble Protector of peoples and islands un- numbered, and ever Quick to enforce on the strong respect for the rights of the weakest ! These were a few of the Pilgrims who crowded the Cabin and Council, — Men of a blood and a breed to envisage the storms of the ocean, Keckless of noonday destructions, or pestilence walking in darkness. Bravely intent on the mission they believed divinely appointed, — Filled with a purpose as grand as the stars in the skies have looked down on ! 198 THE PILGRIMS Alone, unsheltered, on the bleak New England shores brave men and womkn stood The sponsors of a virile creed, nor once They wavered. Yet how often o'er the sea's Wide waste their hearts returned to Scrooby, as In fancies, and in dreams, they lived again The artless life of peace and plenty ! What Sweet memory of festal days was theirs ! How oft in that dear land had orient Hope Gilded the arching skies ! The paths by which In childhood's garish days they travelled grew To Appian-broad highways of pleasure, — youth's One lure was love, manhood's some high em- prise. And peace and plenty seemed a rising tide ! Each season brought its harvesting of good. From heath-clad downs to the far-falling fens Spring garlanded man's prospect. Bu'ds came ere The copses shed their winter garments, seer And brown, to pipe the earliest melodies. The larch and fir put on a lighter green ; And crocuses and primrose blooms, dispersed Like vagrant snowflakes in the winding lanes, With buttercups and blue forget-me-nots, (Poured out as 't were libations to the gods), — These made the land a Paradise ! THE LANDING 199 How like The lips of love did zephyrs kiss the brow, As wearied with their toil the tillers came At eve across the glebe ! How the skies smiled Upon them as the sun rose out o' the sea ! In the long winter nights what safety theirs, If the storm burst and drifting snows closed all The portals ! As they gathered at the hearth How tender was the mood, if, chance, they heard Above the tinklings of the flock and fold, (And the complaining voice of hurtling winds). The bleat of one that from the Keep had strayed ; Joy followed joy as days have their to-morrows. Each several season poured its horn of good Into the lap of life. Spring brought its blooms. And Autumn gave the ripened fruits. Winter, With its mantle, covered the darkened earth With ermine-white. The peat-lit hearth sent forth Its glow, the steepled shrine its silver notes. While from the hut and manor hall came songs Of " Peace, good- will to all mankind " : Girt round with light unknown to land or sea, The Shepherds stand entranced on Bethlehem's plain ; While o'er the dronings of a sleeping world Peal forth the accents of the anthem-strain, — 200 THE PILGRIMS Glory to God in the highest, Peace, peace, good-will ; Glory to God in the highest, Peace, good- will to men. Kises a star, it purples all the East ; The Magi follow in its golden train ; Back roil the sable curtains of the night, And Hope grows strong in human hearts again. Prone in the manger of a lowly stall The Prince of Peace a fragile infant lies, While to the nations groping for the light The heralds of a better day arise. Out on Judea's hills a carol hymned By angel lips disturbs the silent night. As o'er Moriah's cloud-capped, sacred walls The STAR sends forth a strangely lucent light. High up the steeps where shepherds watch by night, Where flocks on heather and on bracken graze. The drowsy tinklings of the folded sheep Are lost in paeans of the sweetest praise. List, now, as softly o'er the troubled years We hear once more the music's sweet refrain ; We tune our hearts to notes of noblest praise, And eclK) back the angels' words again, — THE LANDING 201 Glory to God in the highest, Peace, peace, good- will ; Glory to God in the highest, Peace, good- will to men. Oh, hear the bells, the bells, the bells. The Yule-tide bells, so soft and clear, The bells, the bells, the bells, the bells. The bells, the bells of royal cheer ! King out, Yule-bells, in joyful swells Sweet messages of peace, good-will, Across the meads and snow-white dells, From hut to palace, door to door ; Good-will, good-will, good-will, good- will To prince and peasant, rich and poor; And o'er all lands send forth the peal Of world-wide peace and human weal. Hark, how the angels sing ! Wide let the chorus ring ! List, what the shepherds hear, Hark, now, the words of cheer : Peace, peace, good- will to all mankind ; Peace, peace, good- will to every clime ; To Saxon, Latin, Celt and Turk ; To Cossack, Russian, prince or serf, Malay, Mongolian, Teutons, Koords, Whoe'er shall hear the angels' words. Peace, peace, good- will, good-will and peace j 202 THE PILGRIMS May human strife forever cease, The Christ ascend His royal throne, And every land His Kingship own. Oh, hear the bells, the bells, the bells, The Yule-tide bells, afar, a-near. The beUs, the bells, the bells, the bells, The royal bells of royal cheer. The bells, the bells, so soft and clear ! May all the lands the music hear Of peace, good-will and kindly cheer, Good-will and peace, afar, a-near. And all discordant notes be dumb ! May war its wicked course have run. No more let wrong hold cruel sway But usher in the ampler day Of peace, good- will to all mankind, To races born of every clime ; May every sorrow turn to joy ; No more let hate or wrong destroy The fountain spring of human good The world-wide sense of brotherhood ! But mark the heavy, mournful word. The touching, plaintive minor chord. Why move these lines with measured tread and slow ? Fair, manly forms are lying mute and low. Bright glows the Yule-log on the hearth, But sadly sounds the Yule-bells soft and low ; THE LANDING 203 Sweet sounds that come across the snow A sad tale tell to our dear mother earth : True hearts war-widowed, sane but sad, How shall they e'er again be glad, Since Yule-tide brings not back again The hearthstone joys that sweetly once have been ? Ay, in our hearts a living pain Tells now of joys that sweetly once have been. Sweet bells, sad bells, sound softly o'er the snow, And tell the mournful tale in cadence soft and low. Peace, peace, good-will ! And o'er the dells And snow-white meads are heard the bells ; In soft, sweet tones the music swells, From spire and steeple rises, swells ; From belfries where the jackdaws dwell, Church spires where noisy jackdaws dwell, Come voices blending with the bells, Do well, do well, do well, do well. Peace, peace, good- will, good-will, good- will ! Sweet angel voices seem the bells. As out on crisp winds sharp and clear Are heard the mellow tones and clear. Do well, do Avell, do well, do well. Peace, peace, good- will, good-will, good- will ; Good- will and peace, good- will and peace ; O haste, O come. Thou Prince of Peace ; Haste, usher in the crowning day. And o'er all lands the sceptre sway I 204 THE PILGRIMS But these Once puppets in the march of truth now stood God's Princes on the wild New England shores, Predestinate to prove, — that men are born To DO GREAT DEEDS, and GREAT DEEDS MAKE MEN GREAT ! I wrought at these my Pilgrim Rhymes, In expectation that a friend Would read them, and, as in the times Our love for each was growing, send His greeting, " Here you hit, and there You miss, the mark ! " I little dreamed, That while I daily strove with care To please him, (and the labour seemed So sweet because of this our love), That ere had ended quite my task, A sudden call, and from above. Would wound my heart, and lay the mask Of death on his dear face ! " Too late," I heard his angel- warder say : " He's gone, the door is closed, the gate THE LANDING 205 Is shut ! Grieve not, for when the day Dawns and the shadows flee, his face Will smile on you ! " On the far height, As watching me, one of a race Advanced in knowledge turned the light Of loving eyes on me, to lure Me skyward ! His — I ween — his eyes Looked down ; — and yet I am not sure, For mists, (or tears), had dimmed the skies ! ij ^J> .^ «^ I