Then once again the groups
were drawn
Through corridors, or down
the lawn,
Which bloomed in beauty like
a dawn:
Where countless fountains
leap alway,
Veiling their silver heights
in spray,
The choral people held their
way.
There, ’mid the brightest,
brightly shone
Dear forms he loved in years
agone,—
The earliest loved,—the
earliest flown:
He heard a mother’s
sainted tongue,
A sister’s voice who
vanished young,
While one still dearer sweetly
sung!
No further might the scene
unfold,
The gazer’s voice could
not withhold,
The very rapture made him
bold:
He cried aloud, with clasped
hands,
“O happy fields!
O happy bands,
Who reap the never-failing
lands!
“O master of these broad
estates,
Behold, before your very gates
A worn and wanting laborer
waits!
Let me but toil amid your
grain,
Or be a gleaner on the plain,
So I may leave these fields
of pain!
“A gleaner, I will follow
far,
With never look or word to
mar,
Behind the Harvest’s
yellow car:
All day my hand shall constant
be,
And every happy eve shall
see
The precious burden borne
to Thee!”
At morn some reapers neared
the place,
Strong men, whose feet recoiled
apace,—
Then gathering round the upturned
face,
They saw the lines of pain
and care,
Yet read in the expression
there
The look as of an answered
prayer.
* * * * *
THE NEW-ENGLAND REVOLUTION OF THE SEVENTEENTH CENTURY.
In the first week of March, 1689, Sir Edmund Andros returned to Boston from an expedition against the Indians of Maine. He had now governed New England more than two years for King James II., imitating, in his narrow sphere, the insolent despotism of his master.
The people had no share in the government, which was conducted by Andros with the aid of Counsellors appointed by the King. Some of these were the Governor’s creatures,—English adventurers, who came to make their fortunes. Their associates of a different character were so treated that they absented themselves from the Council-Board, and at length not even formal meetings were held. Heavy taxes were arbitrarily imposed on the inhabitants. Excessive fees were demanded for the transaction of business in the courts and public offices. Town-meetings were forbidden, except one to be held in each year for the choice of assessing-officers. The ancient titles to land in the Colony were declared to be worthless, and proprietors were required to secure themselves by taking out new patents from the Governor, for which high prices were extorted. Complaint of these usurpations was severely punished by fine and imprisonment. An order that “no man should remove out of the country without the Governor’s leave” cut off whatever small chance existed of obtaining redress in England. The religious feelings of the people were outraged. The Governor directed the opening of the Old South Church in Boston for worship according to the English ritual. If the demand had been for the use of the building for a mass, or for a carriage-house for Juggernaut, it would scarcely have given greater displeasure.