Friends were assembled together; the Elder and Magistrate also. Lonely and wretched roofs in the crowded lanes of the city. Like a magician extended his golden wand o'er the landscape; Twinkling vapors arose; and sky and water and forest. There with his boat was the Master, already a little impatientLest he should lose the tide, or the wind might shift to the eastward,Square-built, hearty, and strong, with an odor of ocean about him,Speaking with this one and that, and cramming letters and parcelsInto his pockets capacious, and messages mingled togetherInto his narrow brain, till at last he was wholly bewildered.Nearer the boat stood Alden, with one foot placed on the gunwale,One still firm on the rock, and talking at times with the sailors,Seated erect on the thwarts, all ready and eager for starting.He too was eager to go, and thus put an end to his anguish,Thinking to fly from despair, that swifter than keel is or canvas,Thinking to drown in the sea the ghost that would rise and pursue him.But as he gazed on the crowd, he beheld the form of PriscillaStanding dejected among them, unconscious of all that was passing.Fixed were her eyes upon his, as if she divined his intention,Fixed with a look so sad, so reproachful, imploring, and patient,That with a sudden revulsion his heart recoiled from its purpose,As from the verge of a crag, where one step more is destruction.Strange is the heart of man, with its quick, mysterious instincts!Strange is the life of man, and fatal or fated are moments,Whereupon turn, as on hinges, the gates of the wall adamantine! During the late nineteenth century and until the middle of the twentieth, many elementary classrooms in America featured (along with a Gilbert Stuart portrait of Washington) a black-and-white print of a group of New England pilgrims on their way to church, the men carrying their muskets. [31] Despite their differences, the two worked well together in managing the colony and responding to dangers as they arose. Under the boughs of Wachita willows, that grew by the margin. Borne aloft on his comrades' arms, came Michael the fiddler. Many a youth, as he knelt in the church and opened his missal. Therefore I spake as I did, by an irresistible impulse. [14], The circumstances are vague at best concerning Standish's early military career in Holland (the "low countries" to which Morton referred). [12], The places named by Standish are all in Lancashire, England, with the exception of the Isle of Man, leading some to conclude that he was born in Lancashire—possibly in the vicinity of Chorley, where a branch of the Standish family owned a manor known as Duxbury Hall. "Then, with a smile of content, thus answered Basil the blacksmith,Taking with easy air the accustomed seat by the fireside:—"Benedict Bellefontaine, thou hast ever thy jest and thy ballad!Ever in cheerfullest mood art thou, when others are filled withGloomy forebodings of ill, and see only ruin before them.Happy art thou, as if every day thou hadst picked up a horseshoe. Till he beheld the lights in the seven houses of Plymouth. as my foot was the first that stepped on this rock at the landing,So, with the blessing of God, shall it be the last at the leaving!". Waited her lover and watched for the gleam of her lamp and her shadow. All aghast at his words, surprised, embarrassed, bewildered. Day after day, in the gray of the dawn, as slow through the suburbs. Healed by the touch of that hand, and he said, with a voice full of feeling: "Yes, we must ever be friends; and of all who offer you friendship, Let me be ever the first, the truest, the nearest and dearest!". For a puppet play, just ignore the numbers. And, as they died on his lips, the worthy notary entered. But with the dawn he arose; in the twilight Alden beheld him. Scanning with watchful eye the tide and the wind and the weather, Walked about on the sands; and the people crowded around him. Under a towering oak, that stood in the midst of the village, Knelt the Black Robe chief with his children. Was for a moment consoled. Boiled and beat in his heart, and swelled in the veins of his temples. they said; yes! Firmly builded with rafters of oak, the house of the farmer, Stood on the side of a hill commanding the sea; and a shady. Meanwhile the bridegroom went forth and stood with the bride at the doorway,Breathing the perfumed air of that warm and beautiful morning.Touched with autumnal tints, but lonely and sad in the sunshine,Lay extended before them the land of toil and privation;There were the graves of the dead, and the barren waste of the sea-shore,There the familiar fields, the groves of pine, and the meadows;But to their eyes transfigured, it seemed as the Garden of Eden,Filled with the presence of God, whose voice was the sound of the ocean. Meanwhile, apart, at the head of the hall, the priest and the herdsmanSat, conversing together of past and present and future;While Evangeline stood like one entranced, for within herOlden memories rose, and loud in the midst of the musicHeard she the sound of the sea, and an irrepressible sadnessCame o'er her heart, and unseen she stole forth into the garden.Beautiful was the night. Stood the houses of planters, with negro-cabins and dove-cots. Then from the rattlesnake's skin, with a sudden, contemptuous gesture, Jerking the Indian arrows, he filled it with powder and bullets. But when Standish refused, and said he would give them the Bible. Cheerily called the cock to the sleeping maids of the farm-house. Borne on the send of the sea, and the swelling hearts of the Pilgrims. This portrait was first published in 1885 and alleged to be a 1625 likeness of Standish, although its authenticity has never been proven. So seemed it wise and well unto all; and betimes on the morrow. Rushed with extended arms and exclamations of wonder; When they beheld his face, they recognized Basil the blacksmith. "Straightway Alden replied, as he folded the last of his letters,Pushing his papers aside, and giving respectful attention:"Speak; for whenever you speak, I am always ready to listen,Always ready to hear whatever pertains to Miles Standish. Pressing her close to his heart, as for ever his own, and exclaiming: "Those whom the Lord hath united, let no man put them asunder!". Because of the story, Priscilla Alden alone, among the women of the Plymouth Colony, is remembered by name. Thus to the Gaspereau's mouth they hurried; and there on the sea-beach. By untimely rains or untimelier heat have been blighted, And from our bursting barns they would feed their cattle and children.". But they beguile us, and lead us astray, and their odor is deadly. Where disease and sorrow in garrets languished neglected. "What! Flaked with patches of snow, as hedges sometimes in November. Stript of its golden fruit, was spread the feast of betrothal. "Are you so much offended, you will not speak to me?" Rose (1601–21) by 1618. Now in secluded hamlets, in towns and populous cities. This is the hand of the Lord; it is laid upon me in anger. On the buffalo-meat and the venison cooked on the embers. Pallid, with tearful eyes, and looks of saddest compassion. Forest and meadow and hill, and the steel-blue rim of the ocean. how often thy feet have trod this path to the prairie! Then, as she mounted the stairs to the corridors, cooled by the east-wind. ", Bright rose the sun next day; and all the flowers of the garden, Bathed his shining feet with their tears, and anointed his tresses. "Gabriel! There the long-absent pastor regain his flock and his sheepfold. Struggled together like foes in a burning city. answered the maiden, and, smiling, with Basil descended. After the sound of their oars on the tholes had died in the distance, As from a magic trance the sleepers awoke, and the maiden. "Still the Captain continued, unheeding the words of the stripling:"See, how bright they are burnished, as if in an arsenal hanging;That is because I have done it myself, and not left it to others.Serve yourself, would you be well served, is an excellent adage;So I take care of my arms, as you of your pens and your inkhorn.Then, too, there are my soldiers, my great, invincible army,Twelve men, all equipped, having each his rest and his matchlock,Eighteen shillings a month, together with diet and pillage,And, like Caesar, I know the name of each of my soldiers! [55] Bradford found the weapons sales particularly disturbing and ordered Standish to lead an expedition to arrest Morton in 1628. Is it to shoot red squirrels you have your howitzer planted. Sat a herdsman, arrayed in gaiters and doublet of deerskin. Prominent three, distinguished alike for bulk and for binding; Bariffe's Artillery Guide, and the Commentaries of Caesar. Casting a farewell look at the glimmering sail of the Mayflower. Many a weary year had passed since the burning of Grand-Pré,When on the falling tide the freighted vessels departed,Bearing a nation, with all its household gods, into exile.Exile without an end, and without an example in story.Far asunder, on separate coasts, the Acadians landed;Scattered were they, like flakes of snow, when the wind from the northeastStrikes aslant through the fogs that darken the Banks of Newfoundland.Friendless, homeless, hopeless, they wandered from city to city,From the cold lakes of the North to sultry Southern savannas,—From the bleak shores of the sea to the lands where the Father of WatersSeizes the hills in his hands, and drags them down to the ocean,Deep in their sands to bury the scattered bones of the mammoth.Friends they sought and homes; and many, despairing, heart-broken,Asked of the earth but a grave, and no longer a friend nor a fireside.Written their history stands on tablets of stone in the churchyards.Long among them was seen a maiden who waited and wandered,Lowly and meek in spirit, and patiently suffering all things.Fair was she and young; but, alas! It was the thought of her brain that assumed the shape of a phantom. Seeming more sweet to his nostrils than all the scents of the forest. Where all men were equal, and all were brothers and sisters. Month after month passed away, and in Autumn the ships of the merchantsCame with kindred and friends, with cattle and corn for the Pilgrims.All in the village was peace; the men were intent on their labors,Busy with hewing and building, with garden-plot and with merestead,Busy with breaking the glebe, and mowing the grass in the meadows,Searching the sea for its fish, and hunting the deer in the forest.All in the village was peace; but at times the rumor of warfareFilled the air with alarm, and the apprehension of danger.Bravely the stalwart Miles Standish was scouring the land with his forces,Waxing valiant in fight and defeating the alien armies,Till his name had become a sound of fear to the nations.Anger was still in his heart, but at times the remorse and contritionWhich in all noble natures succeed the passionate outbreak,Came like a rising tide, that encounters the rush of a river,Staying its current awhile, but making it bitter and brackish. Dwells in his little village the Black Robe chief of the Mission. Urge me to marry your friend, though he were the Captain Miles Standish. Then from a stall near at hand, amid exclamations of wonder. Swiftly they glided away, like the shade of a cloud on the prairie. "Thereupon answered John Alden, and told her the whole of the story,—Told her his own despair, and the direful wrath of Miles Standish.Whereat the maiden smiled, and said between laughing and earnest,"He is a little chimney, and heated hot in a moment! Faces, clumsily carved in oak, on the back of his arm-chair, Laughed in the flickering light, and the pewter plates on the dresser. said the priest, as he stood at the shadowy threshold;"See that you bring us the Prodigal Son from his fasting and famine,And, too, the Foolish Virgin, who slept when the bridegroom was coming.""Farewell!" Found they trace of his course, in lake or forest or river, Nor, after many days, had they found him; but vague and uncertain. Waiting with anxious hearts the dubious fate of to-morrow. Where no path could be seen but the track of wheels in the greensward. Bursting with hay were the barns, themselves a village. With the delicious balm that they bore in their vases of crystal. The blossoms of passion. Grew up together as brother and sister; and Father Felician, Priest and pedagogue both in the village, had taught them their letters. "But, without heeding his warmth, continued the notary public,—"Man is unjust, but God is just; and finally justiceTriumphs; and well I remember a story, that often consoled me,When as a captive I lay in the old French fort at Port Royal. Peace seemed to reign upon earth, and the restless heart of the ocean. Thus as they sat, there were footsteps heard, and, suddenly lifted,Sounded the wooden latch, and the door swung back on its hinges.Benedict knew by the hob-nailed shoes it was Basil the blacksmith,And by her beating heart Evangeline knew who was with him."Welcome!" Nut-brown ale, that was famed for its strength in the village of Grand-Pré; While from his pocket the notary drew his papers and inkhorn. There disorder prevailed, and the tumult and stir of embarking.Busily plied the freighted boats; and in the confusionWives were torn from their husbands, and mothers, too late, saw their childrenLeft on the land, extending their arms, with wildest entreaties.So unto separate ships were Basil and Gabriel carried,While in despair on the shore Evangeline stood with her father.Half the task was not done when the sun went down, and the twilightDeepened and darkened around; and in haste the refluent oceanFled away from the shore, and left the line of the sand-beachCovered with waifs of the tide, with kelp and the slippery sea-weed.Farther back in the midst of the household goods and the wagons,Like to a gypsy camp, or a leaguer after a battle,All escape cut off by the sea, and the sentinels near them,Lay encamped for the night the houseless Acadian farmers.Back to its nethermost caves retreated the bellowing ocean,Dragging adown the beach the rattling pebbles, and leavingInland and far up the shore the stranded boats of the sailors.Then, as the night descended, the herds returned from their pastures;Sweet was the moist still air with the odor of milk from their udders;Lowing they waited, and long, at the well-known bars of the farm-yard,—Waited and looked in vain for the voice and the hand of the milkmaid.Silence reigned in the streets; from the church no Angelus sounded,Rose no smoke from the roofs, and gleamed no lights from the windows. There upon mats and skins they reposed, and on cakes of the maize-ear. Crept away to die in the almshouse, home of the homeless. Better than flocks and herds, being proofs of her skill as a housewife. Come, take thy place on the settle. On whose pendulous stairs the angels ascending, descending. "Benedict Bellefontaine, thou hast ever thy jest and thy ballad! Knocked from his pipe the ashes, and slowly extending his right hand. But it was long ago, in some far-off place or forgotten. Shielding her eyes from the level rays of the sun, that, descending, Lighted the village street with mysterious splendor, and roofed each. When he had spoken, John Alden, the fair-haired, taciturn stripling. Darkness of slumber and death, forever sinking and sinking. Fighting some great campaign in Hainault or Brabant or Flanders. Thus for a while he stood, and mused by the shore of the ocean. Then Evangeline lighted the brazen lamp on the table, Filled, till it overflowed, the pewter tankard with home-brewed. The attack also caused widespread panic among Indian tribes throughout the region. The merry lads of the villageStrongly have built them and well; and, breaking the glebe round about them,Filled the barn with hay, and the house with food for a twelvemonth.Rene Leblanc will be here anon, with his papers and inkhorn.Shall we not then be glad, and rejoice in the joy of our children? On this mat by my side, where now the maiden reposes, Told me this same sad tale then arose and continued his journey!". "Smiling she spake these words; then suddenly paused, for her fatherSaw she slowly advancing. Yet am I not of those who imagine some evil intention, Brings them here, for we are at peace; and why then molest us?". Mingled their sound with the whir of the wheels and the songs of the maidens, Solemnly down the street came the parish priest, and the children. Gentle Evangeline lived, his child, and the pride of the village. The second wife of Miles Standish, Barbara, arrived on the ship Anne in 1623 and they were married that same year. Numberless noisy weathercocks rattled and sang of mutation. Calmly and sadly she waited, until the procession approached her. Led through an orchard wide, and disappeared in the meadow. Smiling at length he exclaimed to the stalwart Captain of Plymouth: "Pecksuot bragged very loud, of his courage, his strength, and his stature,—, Mocked the great Captain, and called him a little man; but I see now, Big enough have you been to lay him speechless before you!". Nearer, ever nearer, among the numberless islands. While in their little hands they clasped some fragments of playthings. So he stood there abashed, and gave her the flowers for an answer. Led by their Indian guide, by Hobomok, friend of the white men. Stood a cluster of trees, with tangled cordage of grapevines. And the streets still re-echo the names of the trees of the forest. Told she the tale of the fair Lilinau, who was wooed by a phantom. Anon they sank into stillness;Heavily closed, with a jarring sound, the valves of the barn-doors,Rattled the wooden bars, and all for a season was silent. Standish the stalwart it was, with eight of his valorous army. Mixed with the whoop of the crane and the roar of the grim alligator. Thus they ascended the steps, and, crossing the breezy veranda, Entered the hall of the house, where already the supper of Basil. Fervently then, and devoutly, the excellent Elder of Plymouth. Softly the youth and the maiden repeated the words of betrothal. Like the great chords of a harp, in loud and solemn vibrations. The same idea plays out in The Courtship of Miles Standish, but with a few different wrinkles that earn our respect. Nation, scattered along the coast, now floating together. Waited and looked in vain for the voice and the hand of the milkmaid. Then there appeared and spread faint streaks of gray o'er her forehead. Historian Justin Winsor and others have insisted that the name of Duxbury was given by Standish in honor of Duxbury Hall, near Chorley in Lancashire, which was owned by a branch of the Standish family. Then in his place, at the prow of the boat, rose one of the oarsmen,And, as a signal sound, if others like them peradventureSailed on those gloomy and midnight streams, blew a blast on his bugle.Wild through the dark colonnades and corridors leafy the blast rang,Breaking the seal of silence, and giving tongues to the forest.Soundless above them the banners of moss just stirred to the music.Multitudinous echoes awoke and died in the distance,Over the watery floor, and beneath the reverberant branches;But not a voice replied; no answer came from the darkness;And, when the echoes had ceased, like a sense of pain was the silence.Then Evangeline slept; but the boatmen rowed through the midnight,Silent at times, then singing familiar Canadian boat-songs,Such as they sang of old on their own Acadian rivers,While through the night were heard the mysterious sounds of the desert,Far off,—indistinct,—as of wave or wind in the forest,Mixed with the whoop of the crane and the roar of the grim alligator. Either your warning or menace, or any omen of evil! She was unmarried. Seemed to assume once more the forms of its earlier manhood; So are wont to be changed the faces of those who are dying. Together, Evangeline and The Courtship of Miles Standish captured the bittersweet quality of America's colonial era. Men and women and children, all hurrying down to the sea-shore. Signature of Miles Standish on the Mayflower Compact Miles Standish and Plymouth Colony Rise, like an exhalation, the misty phantoms of passion; Angels of light they seem, but are only delusions of Satan. No further record exists. Anon they sank into stillness; Heavily closed, with a jarring sound, the valves of the barn-doors. Rent by so many gales, and patched by the hands of the sailors. Into this wonderful land, at the base of the Ozark Mountains,Gabriel far had entered, with hunters and trappers behind him.Day after day, with their Indian guides, the maiden and BasilFollowed his flying steps, and thought each day to o'ertake him.Sometimes they saw, or thought they saw, the smoke of his camp-fireRise in the morning air from the distant plain; but at nightfall,When they had reached the place, they found only embers and ashes.And, though their hearts were sad at times and their bodies were weary,Hope still guided them on, as the magic Fata MorganaShowed them her lakes of light, that retreated and vanished before them. Hotly pursued and beset; but their sachem, the brave Wattawamat, Fled not; he was dead. Darkened by shadows of earth, but reflecting an image of heaven? Near it a trough for the horses thoughts of love, one of old... 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