Toll for the brave! Brave Kempenfelt is gone; His last sea-fight is fought, His work of glory done. It was not in the battle; His sword was in its sheath, Weigh the vessel up, Once dreaded by our foes; And mingle with our cup The tear that England owes. Her timbers yet are sound, Full charged with England's thunder, But Kempenfelt is gone, His victories are o'er; And he and his eight hundred Shall plow the wave no more. The Royal George was a British war vessel of 108 guns. On August 29, 1782, while in the harbor of Portsmouth, she was heeled or made to lean on one side, in order to be repaired. She overturned and sank. More than 800 persons were drowned, including her commander, Admiral Kempenfelt, who was writing in the cabin when the accident occurred. XIII. LANDING OF THE PILGRIMS. FELICIA HEMANS. The breaking waves dashed high On the stern and rock-bound coast, 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, Not with the roll of the stirring drums, Not as the flying come, In silence and in fear; They shook the depths of the desert's 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, Why had they come to wither there, 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. AISLES (īls), passage-ways, as in a SHRINE, a place made sacred by church. worship. II. This beautiful poem celebrates the landing of the pilgrims at Plymouth in 1620. Note how they found their new home, what they did not come for, and what they did come for and find. XIV. HASTY WORDS. "Please check my baggage," said a busy man one day as he hurried into the baggage-room at a railway station. "I will check it after I weigh it," was the answer of the old baggage-man. "It is not over-weight," said the man. "I have had that trunk checked a hundred times, and no one else had to weigh it." "That may be," was the answer; are to weigh it, and weigh it I will." "but my orders 'My train is about to go. The time is up. Can't you take my word for it? Do you think I would lie?" said the man, growing angry. "I don't think anything about you; I obey orders. I will weigh this trunk;" and the baggage-man put the trunk on the scales. "You must be an important man on this road! Are you the superintendent? You seem to own it." "No, sir; I'm not an officer of any prominence on this road; but I am here to do my work whether you like it or not," was the answer. The trunk was found to be under weight, as the man had said, and as it was checked and hurried on to the car the owner said, "Good-by, old man ; I never saw quite as smart a baggage-smasher as you are." The man hurried to his train. But he did not feel just right. "That baggage-man, after all, was only obeying orders. Why should I have spoken so unkindly to him? And he is an old man, too. I'll run back and apologize," thought he. Back he ran and said, "I beg your pardon, sir; I had no right to question your duty. It was your duty to weigh my trunk." "Never mind," said the old baggage-man. "I was too hasty; I should have taken your statement of the weight. I am sorry I weighed it." "It was my fault; I beg your pardon." "It was not your fault; it was my own," said the |