[1] Written in 1802 or 1803, when an invasion of England by Napoleon was expected.

[2] This phrase is quoted from a poem by Daniel, an Elizabethan poet.

[3] in bogs and sands should perish.  Should be destroyed by Napoleon.

  THE COURTSHIP OF MILES STANDISH.[1]

  I

  MILES STANDISH.

  In the Old Colony days, in Plymouth the land of the Pilgrims,[2]
  To and fro in a room of his simple and primitive dwelling,
  Clad in doublet[3] and hose, and boots of Cordovan[4] leather,
  Strode, with a martial air, Miles Standish the Puritan Captain. 
  Buried in thought he seemed, with his hands behind him,
      and pausing 5
  Ever and anon to behold his glittering weapons of warfare. 
  Hanging in shining array along the walls of the chamber,—­
  Cutlass and corselet[5] of steel, and his trusty sword of Damascus,[6]
  Curved at the point and inscribed with its mystical[7] Arabic sentence,
  While underneath, in a corner, were fowling-piece, musket,
      and matchlock.[8] 10
  Short of stature he was, but strongly built and athletic,
  Broad in the shoulders, deep-chested, with muscles and sinews of iron;
  Brown as a nut was his face, but his russet beard was already,
  Flaked with patches of snow, as hedges sometimes in November. 
  Near him was seated John Alden,[9] his friend and household
      companion, 15
  Writing with diligent speed at a table of pine by the window;
  Fair-haired, azure-eyed, with delicate Saxon complexion,
  Having the dew of his youth, and the beauty thereof, as the captives
  Whom Saint Gregory saw, and exclaimed, “Not Angles but Angels."[10]
  Youngest of all was he of the men who came in the Mayflower. 20

  Suddenly breaking the silence, the diligent scribe interrupting,
  Spake, in the pride of his heart, Miles Standish the Captain
      of Plymouth. 
  “Look at these arms,” he said, “the warlike weapons that hang here
  Burnished and bright and clean, as if for parade or inspection! 
  This is the sword of Damascus, I fought with in Flanders;[11]
      this breastplate, 25
  Well I remember the day! once saved my life in a skirmish;
  Here in front you can see the very dint of the bullet
  Fired point-blank at my heart by a Spanish arcabucero.[12]
  Had it not been of sheer steel, the forgotten bones of Miles Standish
  Would at this moment be mould, in their grave in the
      Flemish morasses.” 30
  Thereupon answered John Alden, but looked not up from his writing: 
  “Truly the breath of the Lord hath slackened the speed of the bullet;