Which of the three he should choose for his consolation and comfort,
  Whether the wars of the Hebrews, the famous campaigns
      of the Romans, 75
  Or the Artillery practice, designed for belligerent Christians. 
  Finally down from its shelf he dragged the ponderous Roman,
  Seated himself at the window, and opened the book, and in silence
  Turned o’er the well-worn leaves, where thumb-marks thick
      on the margin,
  Like the trample of feet proclaimed the battle was hottest. 80
  Nothing was heard in the room but the hurrying pen of the stripling,
  Busily writing epistles important, to go by the Mayflower,[17]
  Ready to sail on the morrow, or next day at latest, God willing! 
  Homeward bound with the tidings of all that terrible winter,
  Letters written by Alden, and full of the name of Priscilla,[18] 85
  Full of the name and the fame of the Puritan maiden Priscilla!

  II

  LOVE AND FRIENDSHIP.

  Nothing was heard in the room but the hurrying pen of the stripling,
  Or an occasional sigh from the laboring heart of the Captain,
  Reading the marvellous words and achievements of Julius Caesar. 
  After a while he exclaimed, as he smote with his hand,
      palm downwards, 90
  Heavily on the page:  “A wonderful man was this Caesar! 
  You are a writer, and I am a fighter, but here is a fellow
  Who could both write and fight, and in both was equally skilful!”
  Straightway answered and spake John Alden, the comely, the youthful: 
  “Yes, he was equally skilled, as you say, with his pen and
      his weapons. 95
  Somewhere have I read, but where I forget, he could dictate
  Seven letters at once, at the same time writing his memoirs.” 
  “Truly,” continued, the Captain, not heeding or hearing the other,
  “Truly a wonderful man was Caius Julius Caesar! 
  Better be first, he said, in a little Iberian village, 100
  Than be second in Rome,[19] and I think he was right when he said it. 
  Twice was he married before he was twenty, and many times after,
  Battles five hundred he fought, and a thousand cities he conquered;
  He, too, fought, in Flanders, as he himself has recorded;
  Finally he was stabbed by his friend, the orator Brutus! 105
  Now, do you know what he did on a certain occasion in Flanders,
  When the rear-guard of his army retreated, the front giving way too,
  And the immortal Twelfth Legion was crowded so closely together
  There was no room for their swords?  Why, he seized a shield
      from a soldier,
  Put himself straight at the head of his troops, and commanded
      the captains,