THE HEROIC BOY.

The boy stood on the burning deck, Whence all but he had fled;

The flames that lit the battle's wreck
Shone round him o'er the dead.

Yet beautiful and bright he stood,
As born to rule the storm;
A creature of heroic blood,
A brave, though childlike form.

The flames rolled on-he would not go
Without his father's word;
That father, faint in death below,
His voice no longer heard.

He called aloud-"Say, father, say
If yet my task is done!"

He knew not that the chieftain lay
Unconscious of his son.

Speak, father!" once again he cried, "If I may yet be gone;"

And but the booming shots replied,

And fast the flames rolled on.

Upon his brow he felt their breath,

And in his waving hair,

And looked from that lone post of death

In still, yet brave despair.

And shouted but once more aloud,

"My father, must I stay?"

While o'er him fast, through sail and shroud,

The wreathing fires made way.

They wrapped the ship in splendor wild,

They caught the flag on high,

And streamed above the gallant child,
Like banners in the sky.

There came a burst of thunder-sound

The boy-0, where was he? Ask of the winds, that far around

With fragments strewed the sea,

With mast, and helm, and pennon fair,
That well had borne their part—
But the noblest thing that perished there
Was that young, faithful heart.

Hemans.

THE LANDING OF THE PILGRIMS.

The breaking waves dashed high

On a stern and rock-bound coast, And the woods against a stormy sky

Their giant branches tossed, And the heavy night hung dark

The hills and waters o'er,

When a band of exiles moored their bark On the wild New England shore.

Not as the conquerors come,

They the true-hearted came;

Not with the roll of the stirring drum,
Or the trumpet that sings of fame:
Not as the flying come,

In silence and in fear;

They shook the depths of the desert's gloom, With their hymns of lofty cheer.

272 SONGS FOR THE LITTLE ONES.

Amidst the storm they sang,

And the stars heard, and the sea;

And the sounding aisles of the dim woods

rang,

To the ANTHEM OF THE FREE.

The ocean eagle soared

From his nest by the white wave's foam, And the rocking pines of the forest roaredThis was their welcome home.

What sought they thus afar?
Bright jewels of the mine?

The wealth of seas, the spoils of war?

They sought a faith's

Aye, call it holy ground,

pure shrine.

The spot where first they trod

They have left unstained, what there they

INDEX OF FIRST LINES.

A little bird built a warm nest in a tree,

A little black ant found a large grain of wheat,

128

A little child who loves to pray,

138

A little girl was sitting beside a cottage door,
A little girl with a happy look,

182

187

A penny I have, .

"A nosegay! who'll buy ?" cried a sweet little child,. 70

A poor boy went by with his raiment all torn,

246

91

Come, brother, go to church with me,

239