The Emporia news. [volume] (Emporia, Kan.) 1859-1881, 1861-01-19
from the January Atlantic Monthly.
PAUL REVERE'S RIDE.
a new POEM BY LoSeFrLIow.

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A NEW POEM BY LoSGFELLow.
Listen nay 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.
He said to his friend-ssIf the British march
By land or sea, from the town tonight,
Hang lantern aloft in the belfry arch
OF the North Church tower as signal light
One if by land, and two if by sea;
And on the opposite shore will be,
Ready to ride aud 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 mufled oar
Silently rowed to the Charlestown shore,
Just the moon rose over the bay,
Where swinging wide at her msorings lay
The Somers' t, British man-of-war:
A phantom ship with each mast and spar
Across the moon, like prison bar,
And huge, black hulk, that was magnifed
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 barrack door.
The sound of arms, and the tramp of feet.
And the measured tread of the erenaGiers
Marching down to their boats on the shore.
IuCil ilS W the tower OI the
Up the wooden, stairs with stealthy tread,
To the belfry chamber overhead,
And startled the pigeons from their perch
On the som bre rafters, that round him made
Masses of moving shapes Of shade
Up the high ladder, slender and tall,
To the highest window in the wall,
Where lie paused to listen and look down
A moment on the roofs of the town,
And the moonlight flowing over all
Beneath, in the churchyard, lay the dead
In their night encamPment on the hill,
Wrapped III silence so deep and still,
That he could hear like sentine's tread,
The watchful night wind as it went
Creeping along from tent TO tent
And seeming to whisper, 'All is we'll %
moment only he feels the spell
OF the place and the hour, 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 to meet the bay
line of black that bends and floats
On the rising tide like bridge of boats.
Meanwhile impatient to mount and ri de-
Booted and sPurrcd with heavy stride,
On the opposite shore walked Paul Revere.
Now he ratted his horses side,
Now he gazed on the landscape far and near,
Then impetuous stamped the earth,
And trrned and frightened his saddle girth;
But mostly he watched with eager search
The belf tower of the old North Church,
As it rose above the graves on the HILL
Lonely, and spectral, sombr and still.
And 10 as he looks, on the helfrys height,
A glirnmer, and then a CLEAN of light
be springs to the saddle the brIdIe he turns
But fingers and gazes, till full on his sight
second lamp in the belfry burns
A hurry of hoofs in village street.
l.. Sd =, :. g9onlight, bulk in the street.
TIC sehtihent heie: lies in passing, spark
W. flies fearless and fleet
that ~.s all And yet, through the gloom anc
the light.
The fate of a nation was riding that night
And the spark struck out by that steed in bis
flight,
Kindled the land into flame with his heat.
1t was twelve by the villsge 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 goes down.
1t was one by the village clock,
When he rode into Lexington.
He saw the gilded weathercock
Swim in the moonlight he passed.
And the meeting house windows, blank and bare
Gaze ut him with a 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 heari the bleating of the flock.
And the twitter of birds among the trees,
And felt the breath of the morning breeze
Blowing over the meadows brown
And one safe and asleep in his bed
Vino at the bridge would be first to fall.
Who that day would be lying dead,
Pierced by British musketbal
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 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 Middlesex village and farm
A cry of defiance and not of fear
A voice in the dark ness, knock at the door.
And Il ord that shall echo forevtrmo-e
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 midnight message of Paul Revere.