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(From Bride Brook)
WHEN this fair town was Nam-e-aug, | |
| A bleak, rough waste of hill and bog, | |
| In huts of seaweed, thatch, and log, | |
| Our fathers few, but strong and cheery, | |
| Sate down amid these deserts dreary. | 5 |
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| ’T was all a wild, unchristian wood; | |
| A fearful, boisterous solitude; | |
| A harbor for the wild-fowl’s brood, | |
| Where countless flocks of every pinion | |
| Held o’er the shores a bold dominion. | 10 |
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| The sea-hawk hung his cumbrous nest, | |
| Oak-propped, on every highland crest; | |
| Cranes through the seedy marshes prest; | |
| The curlew, by the river lying, | |
| Looked on God’s image, him defying. | 15 |
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| The eagle-king soared high and free, | |
| His shadow on the glassy sea | |
| A sudden ripple seemed to be; | |
| The sunlight in his pinions burning | |
| Shrouded him from eyes upturning. | 20 |
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| They came; the weary-footed band, | |
| The paths they cleared, the streams they spanned; | |
| The woodland genius grew more bland; | |
| In haste his tangled vines unweaving, | |
| Them and their hopes with joy receiving. * * * * * | 25 |
| Great hearts were those that hither came,— | |
| A Winthrop of undying fame, | |
| A Brewster of an honored name,— | |
| Great hearts, the growth of three great nations, | |
| Laid deep for us these firm foundations. * * * * * | 30 |
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