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thers died, Land of the Pilgrims' pride; From every mountain side, Let freedom ring. 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. 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. 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. S.F. SMITH. THE LANDING OF THE PILGRIMS. "The Landing of the Pilgrims," by Felicia Hemans (1749-1835), is a poem that children want when they study the early history of America. The breaking waves dashed high On a stern and rock-bound coast, And the woods against a stormy sky Their giant branches tossed. 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, They, the true-hearted, came; Not with the roll of the stirring drums, And the trumpet that sings of fame. Not as the flying come, In silence and in fear; They shook the depths of the desert gloom With their hymns of lofty cheer. Amid 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, Amid 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! Ay! call it holy ground, The soil where first they trod: They have left unstained what
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