Page:Complete Poetical Works of John Greenleaf Whittier (1895).djvu/49

Rh That night a stalwart garrison
 * Sat shaking in their shoes,

To hear the dip of Indian oars,
 * The glide of birch canoes.

The fisher-wives of Salisbury—
 * The men were all away—

Looked out to see the stranger oar
 * Upon their waters play.

Deer Island’s rocks and fir-trees threw
 * Their sunset-shadows o’er them,

And Newbury’s spire and weathercock
 * Peered o’er the pines before them.

Around the Black Rocks, on their left,
 * The marsh lay broad and green;

And on their right with dwarf shrubs crowned,
 * Plum Island’s hills were seen.

With skilful hand and wary eye
 * The harbor-bar was crossed;

A plaything of the restless wave,
 * The boat on ocean tossed.

The glory of the sunset heaven
 * On land and water lay;

On the steep hills of Agawam,
 * On cape, and bluff, and bay.

They passed the gray rocks of Cape Ann,
 * And Gloucester’s harbor-bar;

The watch-fire of the garrison
 * Shone like a setting star.

How brightly broke the morning
 * On Massachusetts Bay!

Blue wave, and bright green island,
 * Rejoicing in the day.

On passed the bark in safety
 * Round isle and headland steep;

No tempest broke above them,
 * No fog-cloud veiled the deep.

Far round the bleak and stormy Cape
 * The venturous Macy passed.

And on Nantucket’s naked isle
 * Drew up his boat at last.

And how, in log-built cabin,
 * They braved the rough sea-weather;

And there, in peace and quietness,
 * Went down life’s vale together;

How others drew around them,
 * And how their fishing sped,

Until to every wind of heaven
 * Nantucket’s sails were spread;

How pale Want alternated
 * With Plenty’s golden smile;

Behold, is it not written
 * In the annals of the isle?

And yet that isle remaineth
 * A refuge of the free,

As when true-hearted Macy
 * Beheld it from the sea.

Free as the winds that winnow
 * Her shrubless hills of sand,

Free as the waves that batter
 * Along her yielding land.

Than hers, at duty’s summons,
 * No loftier spirit stirs,

Nor falls o’er human suffering
 * A readier tear than hers.

God bless the sea-boat island!
 * And grant forevermore,

That charity and freedom dwell
 * As now upon her shore!

down yon blue Carpathian hills
 * The sun shall sink again,

Farewell to life and all its ills,
 * Farewell to cell and chain!

These prison shades are dark and cold,
 * But, darker far than they,

The shadow of a sorrow old
 * Is on my heart alway.

For since the day when Warkworth wood
 * Closed o’er my steed, and I,

An alien from my name and blood,
 * A weed cast out to die,—

When, looking back in sunset light,
 * I saw her turret gleam,

And from its casement, far and wide,
 * Her sign of farewell stream,

Like one who, from some desert shore,
 * Doth home’s green isles descry,