They sang hymns of praise
for deliverance from the dangers of the sea.
And the heavy night hung dark
The hills and waters o'er,
When a band of exiles moored their bark
On the wild New England shore.
Not as the conqueror comes,
They, the true hearted came;
Not with the roll of the stirring drams,
Or the trumpet that sings of fame.
Not as the flying come,
In silence and in fear,
They shook the depths of the desert gloom
With their hymns of lofty cheer.
Amidst the storm they sang,
And the stars heard and the sea;
And the sounding aisles of the dim woods rang
To the anthem of the free.
- Felicia Henaans.
CHAPTER XII
LAKE CHAMPLAIN
How richly glows the water's breast,
Before us tinged with evening's hues,
When facing thus the crimson west,
The boat her silent course pursues,
And see how dark the backward stream,
A little moment past so smiling!
And still perhaps some faithless gleam,
Some other loiterer beguiling.
Such views the youthful bard allure,
But heedless of the following gloom,
He dreams their colors shall endure
Till peace go with him to the tomb.
And let him nurse his fond deceit;
And what if he must die in sorrow
Who would not cherish dreams so sweet;
Though grief and pain may come tomorrow.
