On the shadowy something far away,
Where the river widens to meet the bay,-
A line of black that bends and floats
On the rising tide, like a bridge of boats.

Meanwhile, impatient to mount and ride,
Booted and spurred, with a heavy stride
On the opposite shore walked Paul Revere.
Now he patted his horse's side,

Now gazed at the landscape far and near;
Then, impetuous, stamped the earth,
And turned and tightened his saddle-girth;
But mostly he watched with eager search
The belfry-tower of the Old North Church,
As it rose above the graves on the hill,
Lonely and spectral and sombre and still.
And lo! as he looks, on the belfry's height
A glimmer, and then a gleam of light!
He springs to the saddle, the bridle he turns,
But lingers and gazes, till full on his sight
A second lamp in the belfry burns!

A hurry of hoofs in the village street,

A shape in the moonlight, a bulk in the dark,
And beneath, from the pebbles, in passing, a spark
Struck out by a steed flying fearless and fleet:
That was all! And yet, through the gloom and
the light,

The fate of a nation was riding that night;

And the spark struck out by that steed, in his

flight,

Kindled the land into flame with its heat.

He has left the village and mounted the steep,
And beneath him, tranquil and broad and deep,
Is the Mystic, meeting the ocean tides;
And under the alders that skirt its edge,
Now soft on the sand, now loud on the ledge,

Is heard the tramp of his steed as he rides.

It was twelve by the village clock

When he crossed the bridge into Medford town.
He heard the crowing of the cock,

And the barking of the farmer's dog,
And felt the damp of the river fog
That rises after the sun goes down.

It was one by the village clock
When he galloped into Lexington.
He saw the gilded weathercock

Swim in the moonlight as he passed,

And the meeting-house windows, blank and bare, Gaze at him with a spectral glare,

As if they already stood aghast

At the bloody work they would look upon.
It was two by the village clock

When he came to the bridge in Concord town.

He heard the bleating of the flock,

And the twitter of birds among the trees,
And felt the breath of the morning breeze
Blowing over the meadows brown.
And one was safe and asleep in his bed
Who at the bridge would be first to fall,
Who that day would be lying dead,
Pierced by a British musket-ball.

You know the rest. In books you have read,
How the British Regulars fired and fled,—
How the farmers gave them ball for ball,
From behind each fence and farm-yard wall,
Chasing the red-coats down the lane,
Then crossing the fields to emerge again
Under the trees at the turn of the road,
And only pausing to fire and load.

So through the night rode Paul Revere;
And so through the night went his cry of alarm
To every Middlesex village and farm,-

A cry of defiance and not of fear,

A voice in the darkness, a knock at the door,
And a word that shall echo forevermore!
For, borne on the night-wind of the Past,
Through all our history, to the last,

In the hour of darkness and peril and need,
The people will waken and listen to hear
The hurrying hoof-beats of that steed,
And the midnight message of Paul Revere.

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow.

NOTES

1. Locate on the sketch-map all places mentioned in the poem. 2. Middlesex. The county of Massachusetts in which Boston is located. 3. “One if by land, two if by sea." If the troops marched by way of Boston Neck and crossed the Charles River by the bridge just opposite Cambridge, it would be said that they went "by land." If they rowed directly across from the barracks to Charlestown, it would be said that they went "by sea."

4. Look up the meanings of the following words and expressions: belfry, muffled oar, moorings, phantom ship, barracks, grenadiers, sombre, impatient, booted and spurred, impetuous, spectral, tranquil, red-coats, emerge.

EXERCISES

1. Sketch briefly the events leading to the story of the poem.

2. Study the map until you can make your own map from memory and locate the important places.

3. When and under what circumstances was the poem written?

4. Why should the British march on Lexington and Concord?

5. Explain "by land or sea."

6. From whose point of view is the Somerset described?

7. What sights and sounds came to "the friend"?

8. Describe Paul Revere as he waited.

9. What signal caused him to start?

10. Explain "the fate of a nation was riding that night."

11. Explain fully the next two lines.

12. Upon your map trace the course of the ride as you read. 13. If "you know the rest," why tell what is in stanza 13? 14. What was the "word that shall echo forevermore"?

15. In what sense are the last six lines true?

16. Then what is the deeper purpose and message of the poem?

ADDITIONAL READINGS

Any good histories of the time.

PIERPONT: Warren's Address at the Battle of Bunker Hill,

SCOTT: Patriotism.

WHITTIER: Abraham Davenport.

LOWELL: Centennial Hymn.

SIMS: Battle of King's Mountain.

GIBBONS: We are Coming, Father Abraham.

BRYANT: Our Country's Call.

READ: Our Defenders, The Rising in 1776.

WALLACE: The Sword of Bunker Hill.

TILTON: The Great Bell Roland.

PROCTOR: A Legend of Bregenz.

SMITH: Patriot Songs of Patriot Sires.

MONTGOMERY: My Country.

A. H. EVERETT: The Battle of Bunker Hill.

BRYANT: Seventy-six.

BANCROFT: History of the United States, Battles of Lexington and

Concord.

PATRICK HENRY: A Call to Arms.

MCMASTER: The Old Continentals.

ROBERT KELLEY WEEKS: A Song for Lexington.

EMERSON: Concord.

HAWTHORNE: The Gray Champion.

BROWNING: How They Brought the Good News from Ghent to Aix.

THE DREAM OF HOME

Who has not felt how sadly sweet

The dream of home, the dream of home,
Steals o'er the heart, too soon to fleet,

When far o'er sea or land we roam?

Sunlight more soft may o'er us fall,

To greener shores our bark may come;
But far more bright, more dear than all,
That dream of home, that dream of home.

Ask of the sailor youth when far

His light bark bounds o'er ocean's foam,
What charms him most, when evening's star
Smiles o'er the wave?— to dream of home.

Fond thoughts of absent friends and loves
At that sweet hour around him come,
His heart's best joy, where'er he roves,

That dream of home, that dream of home.
Thomas Moore.