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!

Aye, call it holy ground,

The soil where first they trod;

They have left unstained what there they found,

Freedom to worship God.

THE PAYS

OF

CHIVALRY.

LAS! the days of chivalry are fled,

The brilliant tournament exists no more; Our loves are cold, and dull as ice or lead, And courting is a most enormous bore.

In those good "olden times," a "ladye bright" Might sit within her turret or her bower, While lovers sang and played without all night, And deemed themselves rewarded by a flower.

Yet if one favored swain would persevere,

In despite of her haughty scorn and laugh, Perchance she threw him, with the closing year, An old odd glove, or else a worn-out scarf.

Off then, away he'd ride o'er sea and land,
And dragons fell and mighty giants smite
With the tough spear he carried in his hand;
And all to prove himself her own true knight.