. Great men and famous deeds. els the spellOf the place and the hour, the secret dreadOf the lonely belfry and the dead;For suddenly all his thoughts are bentOn a shadowy something far away,Where the river widens to meet the bay,—A line of black, that bends and floatsOn the rising tide, like a bridge of boats. Meanwhile, impatient to mount and ride,Booted and spurrd, with a heavy stride,On the opposite shore walkd Paul he patted his horses side,Now gazed on the landscape far and near,Then impetuous stampd the earth,And turnd and tightend his saddle-girth;But mostly he watchd with ea
. Great men and famous deeds. els the spellOf the place and the hour, the secret dreadOf the lonely belfry and the dead;For suddenly all his thoughts are bentOn a shadowy something far away,Where the river widens to meet the bay,—A line of black, that bends and floatsOn the rising tide, like a bridge of boats. Meanwhile, impatient to mount and ride,Booted and spurrd, with a heavy stride,On the opposite shore walkd Paul he patted his horses side,Now gazed on the landscape far and near,Then impetuous stampd the earth,And turnd and tightend his saddle-girth;But mostly he watchd with eager searchThe belfry-tower of the old North Church,As it rose above the graves on the hill,Lonely, and spectral, and sombre, and still. And, lo! as he looks, on the belfrys height,A glimmer, and then a gleam of light!He springs to the saddle, the bridle he turns,But lingers and gazes, till full on his sightA second lamp in the belfry burns! 580 Ipaul IReveres IRtoe A hurry of hoofs in a village slreet. —Vol. VIII, p. Paul Reveres Ride A hurry of hoofs in a village street,A shape in the moonlight, a bulk in the dark,And beneath from the pebbles, in passing, a sparkStruck out by a steed that flies fearless and fleet:That was all! And yet, through the gloom and the light,The fate of a nation was riding that night;And the spark struck out by that steed, in his flight,Kindled the land into flame with its heat. It was twelve by the village clock, When he crossd the bridge into Medford town, He heard the crowing of the cock, And the barking of the farmers dog, And felt the damp of the river-fog, That rises when the sun goes down. It was one by the village clock, When he rode into Lexington. He saw the gilded weathercock Swim in the moonlight as he passd, And the meeting-house windows, blank and bare, Gaze at him with a spectral glare, As if they already stood aghast At the bloody work they would look upon. It was two by the village clock,When he came to the bridge in Concord
Size: 1308px × 1911px
Photo credit: © Reading Room 2020 / Alamy / Afripics
License: Licensed
Model Released: No
Keywords: ., bookcentury1900, bookdecade1900, booksubjectbiography, bookyear19
