Grant County herald. [volume] (Lancaster, Wis.) 1850-1968, 1908-02-12
Old FaVOriteS
Paul Revere's Ride.

five;
Hardly a man is now alive
Who remembers 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 l on the opposite shore will be,
Ready to ride and spread the alarm
Through every Middlesex village and
farm,
For the country folks to be up and arm.
Then he said, Good night!" and with
muffied oar,
Silently rowed to the Charlestown shore,
Just as the moon rose over the bay,
Where swinging wide at her mornings
lay
The Somerset, British man-of-war;
A phantom ship, with each mast and spar
Across the moon like prison bar,
And a huge black hulk, that was magni-
fed
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 grena-
diers,
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 trembling ladder, steep 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 church yard, lay the dead,
In their night encampment on the hill,
Wrapped in silence so deep and still
That he could hear, like a sentinels
tread,
The watchufl night-wind, as it went,
Creeping along from tent to tent,
And seeming to whisper, "All IS well :"
A 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 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 20 mount and Tide,
Booted and spurred, with heavy stride
On the opposite shore walked Paul Re
we're.
Now he patted his horses side,
Now gazed at the landscape far and near,
Then, impetuous, stamped the earth,
And turned and frightened his 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 sombre, and
still,
And 10! as he looks, on the belfry's
height
A glimmer, and then a CLEAN of light
He springs to the saddle, the bride he
turns,
But fingers and gazes, till full on his
sight,
A second light in the belfry burns!
A hurry of hOofs in a village street,
A shape in the moonlight, bulk in the
dark,
And beneath, from the pebbles, in pass
ing, a spark,
Struck out by a steed flying fearless ond
fleet;
That was all! And yet, through the
gloom and the light
The fate of a nation was riding that
night;
And the spark struck out by that steel
in his flight,
Kindled the land into fame with its
heat,
He has left the village and mounted the
steep
And beneath him, tranquil, and broad
and deep,
Is the mystic, meeting the ocean tides !;
And under the alders that skirt its edge,
Now soft ON the sand, now loud on the
ledge,
Is heard the tramp of his steed as he
rides.
1t was twelve by the village clock,
When he crossed the bridge into Med
ford 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 after the sun goes down.
1t was one by the village clock,
When he galloped into Lexington.