“When he had spoken, John Alden, the fair-haired, taciturn stripling,
  All aghast at his words, surprised, embarrassed, bewildered,
  Trying to mask his dismay by treating the subject with lightness,
  Trying to smile, and yet feeling his heart stand still in his bosom.

  Just as a timepiece stops in a house that is stricken by lightning. 160
  Thus made answer and spake, or rather stammered than answered: 
  “Such a message as that, I am sure I should mangle and mar it;
  If you would have it well done,—­I am only repeating your maxim,—­
  You must do it yourself, you must not leave it to others!”
  But with the air of a man whom nothing can turn from his purpose 165
  Gravely shaking his head, made answer the Captain of Plymouth: 
  “Truly the maxim is good, and I do not mean to gainsay it;
  But we must use it discreetly, and not waste powder for nothing. 
  Now, as I said before, I was never a maker of phrases. 
  I can march up to a fortress and summon the place to surrender, 170
  But march up to a woman with such a proposal, I dare not. 
  I’m not afraid of bullets, nor shot from the mouth of a cannon,
  But of a thundering ‘No!’ point-blank from the mouth of a woman,
  That I confess I’m afraid of, nor am I ashamed to confess it! 
  So you must grant my request, for you are an elegant scholar, 175
  Having the graces of speech, and skill in the turning of phrases,”
  Taking the hand of his friend; who still was reluctant and doubtful,
  Holding it long in his own, and pressing it kindly, he added: 
  “Though I have spoken thus lightly, yet deep is the feeling
      that prompts me;
  Surely you cannot refuse what I ask in the name of our friendship!” 180
  Then made answer John Alden:  “The name of friendship is sacred;
  What you demand in that name, I have not the power to deny you!”
  So the strong will prevailed, subduing and moulding the gentler,
  Friendship prevailed over love, and Alden went on his errand.

  III

  THE LOVER’S ERRAND.

  So the strong will prevailed, and Alden went on his errand, 185
  Out of the street of the village, and into the paths of the forest,
  Into the tranquil woods, where bluebirds and robins were building
  Towns in the populous trees, with hanging gardens of verdure,
  Peaceful, aerial cities of joy and affection, and freedom! 
  All around him was calm, but within him commotion and conflict, 190
  Love contending with friendship, and self with each generous impulse. 
  To and fro in his breast his thoughts were heaving and dashing,
  As in a foundering ship, with every roll of the vessel,
  Washes the bitter sea, the merciless surge of the ocean! 
  “Must I relinquish it all,” he cried with a wild lamentation,—­ 195
  “Must I relinquish it all, the joy, the hope, the illusion?[21]