Covered himself with the cloak he had worn in his campaigns in Flanders,

Slept as a soldier sleeps in his bivouac, ready for action.

But with the dawn he arose; in the twilight Alden beheld him

535

Put on his corselet of steel, and all the rest of his

armor,

Buckle about his waist his trusty blade of Damascus, Take from the corner his musket, and so stride out of the chamber.

Often the heart of the youth had burned and yearned to embrace him,

Often his lips had essayed to speak, imploring for

pardon;

540

All the old friendship came back with its tender and grateful emotions;

But his pride overmastered the nobler nature within him,

Pride, and the sense of his wrong, and the burning fire of the insult.

So he beheld his friend departing in anger, but spake not,

534 Bivouac a soldier often has to sleep on the field of battle wrapped only in his cloak, ready for action at a moment's notice. This is called bivouacking.

Saw him go forth to danger, perhaps to death, and he spake not!

545

Then he arose from his bed, and heard what the people were saying,

Joined in the talk at the door, with Stephen and Richard and Gilbert,

Joined in the morning prayer, and in the reading of Scripture,

And, with the others, in haste went hurrying down to the sea-shore,

Down to the Plymouth Rock, that had been to their feet as a doorstep

Into a world unknown,

550

the corner-stone of a nation!

There with his boat was the Master, already a little impatient

547 Stephen, Richard, Gilbert: these are first names of some of the colonists.

550 Plymouth Rock: the famous rock may still be seen at Plymouth. Years ago when the town felt obliged to build out a new wharf which threatened to cover the rock, an effort was made to remove the cherished landmark. The upper part was broken off and is preserved at the Museum of the Pilgrim Society. The rest of the boulder remains in its place some paces back from the water, enclosed, and surmounted with a granite canopy in which are preserved a few bones of the first settlers disinterred from the old burying lot.

561 Why is it called the corner-stone of a nation?

Lest he should lose the tide, or the wind might shift to the eastward,

Square-built, hearty, and strong, with an odor of ocean about him,

Speaking with this one and that, and cramming letters

and parcels

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Into his pockets capacious, and messages mingled to

gether

Into his narrow brain, till at last he was wholly bewildered.

Nearer the boat stood Alden, with one foot placed on the gunwale,

One still firm on the rock, and talking at times with the sailors,

Seated erect on the thwarts, all ready and eager for

starting.

56c

He too was eager to go, and thus put an end to his

anguish,

Thinking to fly from despair, that swifter than keel is or canvas,

Thinking to drown in the sea the ghost that would rise and pursue him.

But as he gazed on the crowd, he beheld the form of Priscilla

Standing dejected among them, unconscious of all that

was passing.

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Fixed were her eyes upon his, as if she divined his intention,

Fixed with a look so sad, so reproachful, imploring, and patient,

That with a sudden revulsion his heart recoiled from

its purpose,

As from the verge of a crag, where one step more is destruction.

Strange is the heart of man, with its quick, mysteri

ous instincts!

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Strange is the life of man, and fatal or fated are mo

ments,

Whereupon turn, as on hinges, the gates of the wall adamantine!

“Here I remain!" he exclaimed, as he looked at the heavens above him,

Thanking the Lord whose breath had scattered the mist and the madness,

Wherein, blind and lost, to death he was staggering

headlong.

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"Yonder snow-white cloud, that floats in the ether

above me,

Seems like a hand that is pointing, and beckoning over the ocean.

There is another hand, that is not so spectral and ghost-like,

Holding me, drawing me back, and clasping mine for protection.

Float, O hand of cloud, and vanish away in the

ether!

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Roll thyself up like a fist, to threaten and daunt me; I heed not

Either your warning or menace, or any omen of evil! There is no land so sacred, no air so pure and so wholesome,

As is the air she breathes, and the soil that is pressed by her footsteps.

Here for her sake will I stay, and like an invisible

presence

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Hover around her forever, protecting, supporting her

weakness;

Yes! as my foot was the first that stepped on this rock at the landing,

So, with the blessing of God, shall it be the last at the leaving!"

Meanwhile the Master alert, but with dignified air and important,

Scanning with watchful eye the tide and the wind and the weather,

590

Walked about on the sands, and the people crowded around him