Year: 1861

line stirring poem which follows is from the AT
iantic Monthly for January. 1t is from the pen o
Prof Longfellow.
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


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 a signal light
One ifby land and two if by sea


And on the opposite shore wis be,


Ready o ride and spread the alarm
through every Middlesex villsgeaHd farm,
For the eountry-folks to be up ana armp
Then he said good night and with mufiied oar
silently rowed TO the Charestown shore,
just as the moon rose over the bay,


w here swinging wide at her mornings lay
The Somerset, British man f-war:
phantom ship, with each mast and spar
Across the moon, like prison bar,
huge, black hulk, that was magni6ed
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,
lhe sound of arms, and the tramp of feet,
And the measured tread of the granadiers
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 beltry chamber overhead,
And started the pigeons from their perch
On the somber rafters that round him made s
Masses and moving shapes of shade = 40
Up the light ladder, slender and4ali
TO the highest window in the wall,
Where he paused to listen and look down
moment on the roofs of the town,
And the moonlight flowing over all.
beneath, in the lurchyard, lay the dead
In their night encampment on tue hill,
Wrapped i'll silence so deep and still,
That he could hear, like sentinel's tread,
I he watchtul night-wind, it went
Creeping along from It mt to tent,
And seeming to whisper, " All is welH'
moment only he feels the spell
OF the place and the hour, the secret dread
Ofthe lonely belfry and the dead;
. For suddenly all his th ong hts 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 bOate.
Meanwhile, impatient TO mount and ride,
Bu0ted and 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 imIetuous stamped the earth.
And turned and tightened his saddle girth;
Bat mostly he watched with eager search
The belfry tower of the Old North Church.
A. 1t rose. above the graves ON the hill,
Lonely and spectral, and sombre, and still
And To- as he looks, on the beltry's height.
A gmmer, and then a CLEAN OF light
He springs TO the saddle, the bride he turns,
But fingers and gazes, till full on his sight
second lamp IN tie belfry burns!
hurry of hoofs in a village street,
A hape in the moonlight, bulk in the dark,
And beneath from the pebbles, in passing a spark,
Struck out by steed that flies fearless and fees;
That was all! And yet through the gloom and the


light,


The fate OF nation was riding that night;
And the sparks struck out by that steed in his flight
kiudled the land into flame with its heat
1t was twelve by the village clock
When he crossed the bridge into Medford town
lie 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 goes down.


1t was one by the village clock
When he rede into Lexington,
He the glded weathercock
Swim in the moonlight as he passed
And the meeting house windows, blank and bare,
Gaze at 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 brdgein Concord town,
He heard the bleatng of the flock,
And the twittering of birds among the trees,
And felt the breath of the morning breeze
Blowing over the meadows brown,
And one was safe and asleep in his bed
Who at the bridge would be first to fall,
Pierced by British musket ball.
You know the rest. In the books you have read
How the British regulars fred and fed,-
How the farmers gave them ball for ball,
From behind each fence and farmyard wall,
Dhasing the red-coats down the lane,
Under the at the turn of the road,
Aud only pausing to fire and load
So through the night rode Paul Revere
And so through the night went his cry o. alarm
To every Middlesex village and farm,
A cry of defiance and not OF fear
a voice il the darkness, a knock al the door,
And a word that shall echo foreyermore!
For borne on the nj ght-wind OF the past
Through all our history, tothe last
In the hour of darkness, and peril, and need,
The people will waken and listen to hear,
fhe urying hoOf-beat of that steed,
And the midnight message OF Paul Revere.