Delaware State journal and statesman. [volume] (Wilmington, Del.) 1855-1870, 1861-02-19

Listen, my children, and you shall hear
OF the midnight ride of Paul Revere,
On the eighteenth of April IN Seventy Five;
Hardly man is now alive
Who remembers that famous day and year.
lie 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 NOrih-Church tower, as signal-light,
One if by land, and two if by sea
Aud | on the opposite shore will be,
Ready to ride and spread the alarm
Through every Middesex village and farm,
For the country folk to be up and to arm"
Then he said goodnight, and with mullied oar
Silently rowed to the Charlestown shore,
Just as the moon rose over the bay,
Where swinging wide at her moorings lay
The Somerset, British man-of-war:
phantom ship, with each mast and spar
Acrose the moon like pTison-bar,
And huge black hulk, that was magnieed
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
The muster of men at the bRrnck-door,
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 steathy 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 to listen and look down
A moment on the roofs Of the town,
And the moonlight flowing over all.
Beneath, in the churchyard 10y the dead
In their night-encampmen on the hill,
Wrapped in silence so deep and still,
That be could hear like a senu0els tread,
The watchful night-wind as it went,
Creeping along from tent to tent,
And seeming to whisper, ''Al is WE'LL"
A moment only he feels the spell
OF the place aud the hour, the secret dread
OF the lonely belfry and the dead;
For suddenly oil his thoughts are bent
On a 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 bridge of boats.
Meanwhile, impatient to mount and ride,
Booted end spurred, with heavy stride,
On the opposite shore walked Paul Revere.
Now he patted his horses side,
Now gazed on the landscape far and near,
Then impetuous stamped the earth,
And turned and tightened bis 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 somber, and still.
And 10 as he looks, On the befry's height,
A elimmer, and then CLEAN of light
lie springs to the saddle, the bride he turns,
But fingers and gazes, till full on his sight
second lamp in the belfry burns
A hurry of hoofs in village-street,
A shape in the moonlight, bulk in the dark
And beneath from the pebbles, in passing
spark
Struck out by steed thai flies fearless and fleet
That was all Aud 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,
kindlcd the land into flame with its heat.
1t was twelve by the village clock,
When he crossed the bridge into Medford 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 goess down.
1t was one by the village clock,
When he rode into Lexington.
lie saw the gilded weathercOck
Swim in the moonlight as he passed,
Aud the meeting house windows blank and bare
Gaze at him with a spectral glare,
As if theyRlready 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 bleadng of the flock,
And the twitter OF birds among the trees,
And felt the breath Of the morning breeze
Blowing over the meadows brown.
Aud 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 British musket-ball.
You know the rest. In the books you have read
How the British regulars fired and aed-
How the farmers gave them ball fer ball,
From behind each fence aud farmyard wall,
Chasing the red coats down tho lane,
Then crossing the eds 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 Miidlescz village and farm
A cry OF defiance, and not Of fear
A voice in the darkness, knock ut the door,
And word that shall echo foreyermore
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-beat of that steed,
and the midnightmcssage Of Paul Revere.
LOSoFGLLow.
--ssass-----