Holmes County Republican. [volume] (Millersburg, Holmes County, Ohio) 1856-1865, 1861-01-10
4oag.
From the Atlantic Monthly.
A NEW POEM BY LONGRELLOw.
PAUL REyERE's RIDE.


M PAUL REvERE's RIDE.
Listen, my children. and you shall hear
OF the midnight ride of Paul Revere,
On the eighteenth of April, in SeTenty-Fire:
Hardly a man is now alive ....5--..,r
Who remembered that famous day and year.
He SAID to his friend-.If the British march
By land or sea from the town tonight,
Hang lantern aloft in the belfry-arch
OF the North Church tower, as a signal-light-
One if by land, and two if by sea,
And on the opposite shore will be,
Ready to ride and spread the alarm
Through every Middlesex village and farm.
For the country-folk TO be up and to arm"
Then he said good night, and with muffled oa,
Silently rowed to the Charleston shore,
Just as the moon rose over the bay,
Where swinging wide at her mooripgs lay
The Somerset British man-of war: l6
A phantom ship with each mast and spar
Across the moon like prison-bar.
And huge black hulk. that was magnihed
By its own reflection in the tide.
Meanwhile, his friend. through alley and street
Wanders and watches with eager ears.
Till in the silence around him he hears
i
The sound of arms, and the tramp of feet.
And the measured tread of the grenadiers,
Marching down to their boats on the shore.
Then he climbed to the tower of the church.
Up the wooden stairs, with stealthy tread,
To the belfry -chamber overhead.
And startled the pigeons from their perch
On the sombre rafters. that round him made
Masses and moving shapes of shade
Up the light ladder. slender and tall,
To the highest window in the wall.
Where he paused 10 listen and look down
A moment on the roofs of the town,
And the moonlight flowing over all.
Beneath in the churcbyard. lay the dead
In their night encampment on the hill.
Wrapped in silence 50 deep and still.
That be could hear, like seItinel's tread
The waichful night-wind as it went
Creeping along from tent to tent.
And seeming to whisper, "all is WE'LL"
A moment only he feels the spell
OF the place and the hoar. and the secret dread
Of The lonely belfry and the dead;
For suddenly all his thoughts are bent
On shadowy something far away.
Where the river widens 10 meet the bay
A line of black that bends and floats
On the rising tide, like bridge of boats.
Meanwhile, impatient to mount and ride,
Booted and spurred with heavy stride,
On the opposite shore walked Paul Revere.
Now he paited his horses side,
Now he gazed on the landscape far and near,
Then impetuous stamped the earth.
And turned and frightened his saddle-girlh;
But mostly he watched with eagre search
The belfry tower Of the old North Church,
As it rose above the graves on the hill,
Lonely and spectral, sombre and still.
And lol as he looks, on the belfry' height,
A glimmer, and then CLEAN of light!
He springs to the saddle, the bride he turns,
A second lamp in the belfry burns!
A hurry of hoofs in village street,
A shape In the moonlight, bulk in the dark,
Struck out by steed that flies fearless and fleet;
That was ALL And yet, through the gloom and
the light,
The fate Of nation was riding that night, flight,
And the spark struck out by that sieed. in his
kindled the land into flame with its heat.
1t was twelve by the village clock,
When be crossed the bridge into Mcdford town.
He heard the growing of the cock,
And the barking of the farmers dog,
And felt the damp Of the river fog,
That rises when the sun goes down.
1t was one by the village clock,
When he rode into Lexington.
He saw the gilded weathercock
Swim in the moonlight as he passed,
And the Westinghouse windows, blank and bare
Gaze at him with spectral glare,
As if they already stood aghast
At the bloody work they would look upon.
1t 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-breez
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 living dead,
Pierced BY the British musket-ball.
You know the rest. In the books YOU have read
How the British regulars fired and fed
How the farmers gave them ball for ball,
From behind each fence and farmyard wall,
Chasing the red-coats down the lane,
Then crossing the fields 10 emerge again
Under the trees at the turn of the road,
And only pausing 10 fire and load.
So through tie 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, knock at the door,
And word that shall echo forevermorel
For, borne on the night-wind of the Past,
Through all our history, to the last,
In the hour of dakness and peril and need,
The people will waken and listen to hear
The hurrying hoof- beat of that steed.
And the midnight message of Paul Revere