--_Longfellow._

[19] _bards_, ancient poets.

[20] _benediction_, blessing.

THE LANDING OF THE PILGRIMS.

The breaking waves dashed high on a stern and rock-bound coast,
And the woods against a stormy sky their giant branches tossed;
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 stirring drums, and 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 with the anthems of the free!
The ocean eagle soared from his nest by the white wave's foam,
And the rocking pines of the forest roared--this was their welcome home!

There were men with hoary hair amidst that pilgrim band;
Why had they come to wither there away from their childhood's land?
There was woman's fearless eye, lit by her deep love's truth;
There was manhood's brow serenely high, and the fiery heart of youth.

What sought they thus afar? Bright jewels of the mine?
The wealth of seas, the spoils of war? They sought a faith's pure shrine!
Ay, call it holy ground, the soil where first they trod:
They left unstained, what there they found, Freedom to worship God.

--_Mrs. Hemans._

HE PRAYETH BEST.

"He prayeth best, who loveth best
All things both great and small;
For the dear God who loveth us,
He made and loveth all."

--_Coleridge._

EACH AND ALL.

Little thinks, in the field, yon red-cloaked clown,
Of thee from the hilltop looking down;
The heifer that lows in the upland farm,
Far heard, lows not thine ear to charm,
The sexton, tolling his bell at noon,
Deems not that great Napoleon
Stops his horse, and lists with delight,
Whilst his files sweep round yon Alpine height;
Nor knowest thou what argument
Thy life to thy neighbor's creed has lent.
All are needed by each one;
Nothing is fair or good alone.
I thought the sparrow's note from heaven,
Singing at dawn on the alder bough;
I brought him home, in his nest, at even,
He sings the song, but it cheers not now,
For I di