"While I resolved these ideas, new warmth flowed in upon my heart I was wrong. These feelings were the growth of selfishness. Of this I was not aware, and, to dispel the mist that obscured my perceptions, a new effulgence, and a new mandate were necessary. From these thoughts I was recalled by a ray that was shot into the room. A voice spake like that which I had before heard: 'Thou hast done well. But all is not done the sacrifice is incomplete thy children must be offered-they must perish with their mother! — ' EARLY NATIONAL PERIOD JOSEPH RODMAN DRAKE [Born at New York City, August 7, 1795; died at New York City, September 21, 1820] THE FAY'S SENTENCE FROM "THE CULPRIT FAY" The monarch sat on his judgment-seat, And his peers were ranged around the throne He looked around and calmly spoke; His brow was grave and his eye severe, But his voice in a softened accent broke : Fairy! Fairy! list and mark, Thou hast broken thine elfin chain, Thy flame-wood lamp is quenched and dark, Tied to the hornet's shardy wings; Of the worm, and the bug, and the murdered fly; Had a stain been found on the earthly fair. Now list, and mark our mild decree Fairy, this your doom must be: "Thou shalt seek the beach of sand Where the water bounds the elfin land, Thou shalt watch the oozy brine Till the sturgeon leaps in the bright moonshine, And catch a drop from his silver bow. "If the spray-bead gem be won, The stain of thy wing is washed away, But another errand must be done Ere the crime be lost for aye; Thy flame-wood lamp is quenched and dark, Mount thy steed and spur him high To the heaven's blue canopy; And when thou seest a shooting star, Follow it fast, and follow it far The last faint spark of its burning train THE SECOND QUEST Up, Fairy! quit thy chickweed bower, Thou 'lt need it ere the night be gone. He put his acorn helmet on; It was plumed of the silk of the thistle-down; His cloak, of a thousand mingled dyes, His shield was the shell of a lady-bug queen, Studs of gold on a ground of green; And the quivering lance which he brandished bright, Was the sting of a wasp he had slain in fight. Swift he bestrode his fire-fly steed; He bared his blade of the bent-grass blue; He drove his spurs of the cockle-seed, And away like a glance of thought he flew, To skim the heavens and follow far The moth-fly, as he shot in air, Crept under the leaf, and hid her there; The katy-did forgot its lay, The prowling gnat fled fast away, The fell mosquito checked his drone, And folded his wings till the Fay was gone, And the wily beetle dropped his head, And fell on the ground as if he were dead; For they had felt the blue-bent blade, And writhed at the prick of the elfin spear; When the sky was clear and the moon was bright, They had heard the twang of the maize-silk string, Some hunter-sprite of the elfin ground; And they watched till they saw him mount the roof Then glad they left their covert lair, THE AMERICAN FLAG When Freedom from her mountain height She tore the azure robe of night, |