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Felicia Dorothea Hemans - The Pilgrim Fathers
Work rating: Medium

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 the 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 
To the anthem 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 the 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 have left unstained what there they found — 
Freedom to worship God.
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