4. And in the world, as in the school,

I'd say how fate may change and shiftThe prize be sometimes with the fool, The race not always to the swift; The strong may yield, the good may fall, The great man be a vulgar clown, The knave be lifted over all,

The kind cast pitilessly down.

5. So each shall mourn, in life's advance,
Dear hopes, dear friends, untimely killed―
Shall grieve for many a forfeit chance,
And longing passion unfulfilled.
Who misses or who wins the prize-
Go, lose or conquer as you can;
But if you fail, or if you rise,

Be each, pray God, a gentleman.

6. A gentleman, or old or young!

(Bear kindly with my humble lays ;)
The sacred chorus first was sung
Upon the first of Christmas days;
The shepherds heard it overhead—
The joyful angels raised it then:
Glory to heaven on high, it said,
And
peace on earth to gentle men i

24

PART II.

CONTAINING celebrated poems which have become familiar to most readers, and which are so valuable as to demand a place in every acceptable series.

XCVII. THE PILGRIM FATHERS.

1. The Pilgrim Fathers-where are they?
The waves that brought them o'er
Still roll in the bay and throw their spray,
As they break along the shore;

Still roll in the bay as they rolled that day,
When the Mayflower moored below,—
When the sea around was black with storms,
And white the shore with snow.

2. The mists that wrapped the Pilgrim's sleep
Still brood upon the tide ;

And the rocks yet keep their watch by the deep,
To stay its waves of pride.

But the snow-white sail that he gave to the gale,
When the heavens looked dark, is gone ;-
As an angel's wing, through an opening cloud,
Is seen and then withdrawn.

3. The Pilgrim exile-sainted name!

The hill, whose icy brow

Rejoiced when he came, in the morning's flame,
In the morning's flame burns now;

And the moon's cold light, as it lay that night
On the hill-side and the sea,

Still lies where he laid his houseless head

But the Pilgrim—where is he?

4. The Pilgrim Fathers are at rest;

When summer's throned on high,

And the world's warm breast is in verdure dressed, Go stand on the hill where they lie.

The earliest ray of the golden day

On that hallowed spot is cast;

And the evening sun, as he leaves the world,
Looks kindly on that spot last.

5. The Pilgrim spirit has not fled :

It walks in noon's broad light;

And it watches the bed of the glorious dead,
With the holy stars, by night.

It watches the bed of the brave who have bled,
And shall guard this ice-bound shore

Till the waves of the bay where the Mayflower lay
Shall foam and freeze no more.

XCVIII. OUR NATIONAL HYMN.

1. My country, 'tis of thee,

Sweet land of liberty,

Of thee I sing;

Land where my fathers died,
Land of the Pilgrim's pride,
From every mountain side
Let freedom ring.

2. My native country, thee—
Land of the noble free-
Thy name I love;

I love thy rocks and rills,
Thy woods and templed hills:
My heart with rapture thrills
Like that above.

3. Let music swell the breeze,
And ring from all the trees
Sweet freedom's song:

Let mortal tongues awake;
Let all that breathe partake;

Let rocks their silence break-
The sound prolong.

4. Our fathers' God, to thee,

Author of liberty,

To thee we sing :

Long may our land be bright
With freedom's holy light,

Protect us by thy might,

Great God, our King.