The Landing of the Pilgrims
Felicia Dorothea Hemans
1793 to 1835
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The breaking waves dashed high
On a stern and rock-bound coast,
And the woods against a stormy sky
Their branches tossed;
And the heavy night hung dark
hills and waters o'er,
When a band of exiles their bark
On the wild New England shore.
as the conqueror comes,
They, the true-hearted, came,—
with the roll of the stirring drums,
And the that sings of fame;
Not as the flying come,
In silence and in fear;
They shook the depths the desert's gloom
With their hymns of lofty cheer.
Amidst the storms they sang;
And the stars heard, the sea;
And the sounding aisles of the dim rang
To the anthem of the free.
The eagle soared
From his nest by the white wave's foam;
And the rocking pines of the forest roared—
This their welcome home!
There were men with hoary
Amidst that pilgrim band:
Why had they come to there
Away from their childhood's land?
There was woman's fearless eye,
Lit by her deep love's truth;
There manhood's brow serenely high,
And the fiery heart of youth.
What sought they thus afar?
Bright jewels of mine?
The wealth of seas, the spoils of war?—
They sought a faith's pure shrine.
Ay, call holy ground,—
The soil where first they trod!
have left unstained what there they found—
Freedom to God!