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THE MERRIMAC 
 
 ITS INCIDENTS 
 
 JLN EPIC POEJa 
 
 ROBERT BC CAVERLY. 
 
 /^ 
 
 ^ 
 
 BOSTON: 
 
 INNES & NILES, PRINTERS, 37 CORNHILL, 
 1866. 
 
76 la'?'/- 
 
 Entered, according to Act oi Congress, in the year 1865, by 
 
 ROBERT B. CAVERLY, 
 
 In the Clerk's Office of the District Court for the District of MagsnchuBctts 
 
 <^'^ 
 
 I 
 
Zo tfje 
 REV. THEODORE EDSON, D. D. 
 
 FIRST EECTOR OP THB 
 
 FIRST CHURCH (ESTABLISHED IN 1824) IN LOWELL, "THE FIELD' 
 
 WHEBB 
 
 ELLIOT, 
 
 IN 1674, PREACHED TO THE TRIBES OF 
 
 WONALANCET, 
 
 THIS VOLUME IS RESPECTFULLY DEDICATED. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 . -t^gSLJt. 
 
 The Creation 
 
 Pact 
 11 
 
 The Storm ^^ 
 
 The Torrent ..•••••• ^^ 
 
 The Landscape ••••••• ^^ 
 
 The Sea 1* 
 
 The Workmg of the Waters 15 
 
 Finny Tribes, First Appearance of . • • • .16 
 
 Animals, " «««.•.. 19 
 
 Birds, « " " 18 
 
 Furst Indian, Appearance of . . . • • 19 
 
 The Indian's Habits and History ..... 20 
 The Pilgrims coming, find Sqitanto, alias Tisquanium, "wan- \ 
 
 y 23 
 
 dering here alone" .,..•••' 
 5 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 Pagb 
 
 Samoset! his Personal Appearance, etc. ♦ ... 24 
 
 The First Treaty — Pilgrims with King Massasoit . . .25 
 
 Tisquantum dies, giving all this Domain to the Pilgrims . 26 
 
 Progress in that Day . . . . . . .28 
 
 The Fifty Years' Peace, up to Philip's Tune ... 28 
 
 Philip meditates War, and Sassamon divulges it to the Pilgrims, 29 
 Sassamon is murdered by Philip's Men . , • ,29 
 
 The Murderers are tried in an English Court ... 29 
 
 Philip appears in Court, denying the Jurisdiction . . .29 
 
 Philip's Argument ....... 80 
 
 The Murderers Executed is the first Step to Philip's "War . 31 
 The War, and Philip's Death . . . • • 31 
 
 Peace 32 
 
 King William's War, and Woman's Heroism in that Day . 35 
 
 The White Man's mode of Defence to Indian Warfare . . 86 
 
 The Story of the Capture of Mrs. Dustin and her two^ 
 
 Assistants by the Indians;— the Slaughter of the Indi- i 37 to 51 
 
 ans by them, and their final Escape from Captivity J 
 
 Progress as made by the Pilgrims . • , , 52 
 
 The Revolution ...•••». 53 
 
 The Veterans of tho Revolution ...».■ 53 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 Faqb 
 Industry and Habits of the Generation next succeeding the ) 
 
 y 54 
 
 Revolution, in the Seasons of I 
 
 Haying ...••... 55 
 Threshing the Grain . . • • . 56 
 
 Harvesting and Huskmg the Com ... 57 
 
 The Sabbath-Bsiy 59 
 
 Habits of the Household in the Olden Time • . .60 
 
 Modern Inventions ...«••• 61 
 
 Progress in this Valley in the 
 
 Building of Cities 62 
 
 Turning the River Power . • . • . 62 
 
 Erecting Manufactories . . . • • .62 
 
 Making Progress in Science as -well as Art . • 63 
 
 The Railroad in this Valley, and its "Work . . .64 
 
 The Telegraph and its Work ..... 65 
 
 Improvements here in Husbandry . • . . .66 
 
 The Six Cities, — Lowell, Manchester, Concord, New-' 
 
 huryport, Lawrence, and Nashua, with the Villages and 
 
 Towns on the Merrimac in their various Trades, 
 
 Art, Science, and Industry 
 
 Of the many renowned Sons of this Valley, a few are named, 
 
 to wit: 
 
 66 to 69 
 
' CONTENTS. 
 
 Paqb 
 Lowell and Jackson, famed for Force of Character, and ) 
 
 I 62 
 for Knowledge and Skill in the Arts . . ) 
 
 Stark and Pieece, known to Revolutionary Fame . . 54 
 
 Webster for Eloquence . , . . , .69 
 
 Parsons for Law and Learning ..... 69 
 
 Ayer for the extent of his operations in the Healing Art . 67 
 
 "Whittier for truthful Song . . . . . 69 
 
 The Four Years' Rebellion ; and the rush from this Valley to ) 
 
 [ 70 
 resist it .......) 
 
 The Force employed in its Overthrow .... 71 
 
 Lincoln, Grant, Sherman, and Sheridan • . 73, 74 
 
 Tisquanttjm's Return to the Merrimao • • . 75 
 
 8 
 
rLLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 Faob 
 
 I. A Home in Centralville .... Frontispiece. 
 Engraver, R. Carpenter. 
 
 II. The Man in the Mountain . From Harper's Magazine. 10 
 
 m. The Whale "seeking deeper Waters" 17 
 
 Artist, C. A. Barry. Engraver, J. Andrew. 
 
 IV. Samoset From the Harpers*. 25 
 
 V. Massasoit and Governor Carver . . " " " 26 
 
 VI. The Moose " taking Leave " . . . " " " 28 
 
 VII. The Horse from "The Old World" " « " 29 
 
 VIII. Death of PhUip « «« «« 32 
 
 IX. The Conflict 
 
 (I « u 37 
 
 X. Indians crossing the Merrimac with their Captives . . 41 
 
 From the Harpers'. 
 
 XI. Mrs. Dustin, Killing her Captors 43 
 
 Artist, C. A. Barry. Engraver, J. Andrew. 
 
 XII. The Old Homestead .... From the Harpers'. 58 
 
 XIII. The Wheel of the Olden Time 61 
 
 Artist, C. A. Barry. Engraver, J. Andrew. 
 
 XIV. The Pemigewaset north of Franklin From the Harpers'. 69 
 
 XV. Tisquantum 75 
 
 Artist, C. A. Barry. Engraver, J. Andrew. 
 
THE MERRIMAC. 
 
 ELESTIAL Bards ! in magic numbers skilled 
 We thee invoke; ivlio, blest with music /?W, 
 Chant high in heaven above, yet present 
 
 Deign oft to witness in this earthly sphere 
 What mortals do, and what of good or ill 
 In truthful song is celebrated still, 
 And what of beauty grand in Nature lives, 
 What Heaven ordains and what experience gives, 
 Yet left unsung, — inspired attend, repair 
 Up to yon mountain-top, in regions fair, 
 Where prospect wide above the woodland shade 
 Unfolds the works creative wisdom made, — 
 9 
 
THE MERRIMAC. 
 
 Survey proud Merrlmac/ whose praise we sing, 
 And to mine aid some grateful measure bring, — 
 Some note of landscape grand in dale and bill, 
 Adorned with glittering lake, cascade, or rill. 
 With forest wild, with winding wave between 
 The giant groves along the valley green; 
 Fair floral regions sweet at early dawn. 
 And fields of lihes in the dewy lawn, — 
 Whate'er thy vision meets, o'er all the plain, 
 From mountain height to ocean's wide domain, 
 Of rural Nature or of handy Art, 
 In truthful numbers faithfully impart. 
 Nor sights alone observe, but sound, of birds, 
 The lambkin-bleatings, and the lowing herds. 
 The cuckoo's echo at the close of day, 
 And wakeful whippoorwilPs wild warbling lay, 
 That cheer the vale ; — with chime of village bell, 
 Which w^akes, to thought divine, Pilgrims that dwell 
 
 10 
 
THE MERRIMAC. 
 
 Along the broad highway, — whose voices swell 
 Praises to Him who " doeth all things well ; " — 
 
 With these and more, our humble song indite, 
 That tend to raise the soul by Nature's light 
 To light of Heaven^ and to the fruitful source 
 Whence all things came to pass and took their 
 course. 
 
 Sweet river I thy true source^ which angels sung 
 At the creation when the world begun, 
 We seek; and how thy rills of chaos^ horn, 
 First leaped, rejoicing in their native form; — 
 When bleak New England's height began to rise. 
 And moon and stars just formed ht up the skies; 
 How the Great God on high, with outstretched 
 hand, 
 
 Divided waters from the massive land, 
 11 
 
THE MERRIMAC. 
 
 Scooped the vast concave of the ocean bed, 
 And infant channels for the rivers made ; 
 And how and when his wisdom next arranges 
 To move the stagnant floods by natural changes, 
 Compel the seas their rugged bounds forsake, 
 Becloud the hills, and shining rivers make ; 
 To make thin vapors, heated to excess, 
 On ocean more^ on terra-firma less, 
 Out from the briny waves incessant rise 
 Above the hills, and back to other skies. 
 Combine in clouds, and vast collections form. 
 Spreading the heavens with impendhig storm. 
 Whence earth itself full formed begins to move 
 Through mighty conflicts by the hand of Jove 
 Outward and onward from its native source 
 Round with the whirling spheres to take its course. 
 
 Now then the forked light, ascending high, 
 12 
 
THE MERRIMAC. 
 
 Unveils the terrors of a troubled sky ; 
 Tempestuous gales in darkness intervene, 
 Sweeping the world with howlings in extreme 
 And thunderings loud; the clouds, let loose in drops, 
 Dash down their showers on the mountain-tops. 
 
 Then leap the streamlets from the mountain- 
 waste 
 As if by stern command requiring haste. 
 As if God's power with screw and lever plied. 
 Squeezing the lofty hills to raise the tide. 
 Would drown the earth in awful floods sublime, 
 For local sin, or want of faith divine. 
 As since in wrath he did in Noah's time. 
 
 Thus at creation's dawn did Merrimac 
 Begin to flow. The storm subsides, and light, 
 Bright gleaming sunbeams, broke from sable night. 
 
 13 
 
THE MERRIMAC. 
 
 And now the Sweeping Wave, with banks o'erflown, 
 Brilliant and grand, 'mid azure splendor sJionCy 
 Bolls on, — and with accumulated force 
 Of mighty waters on their destined course 
 Through naked banks, ne'er washed by waves 
 
 before, — 
 Now curving o'er the cliff with dashing roar 
 Of cataract ; now swelling far and w^ide 
 Down sloping vales in full majestic tide ; 
 Then gliding smooth, as plain or meads ensue, 
 In tranquil pride resplendent bravely through, 
 Conveys her fountains to the untried shore 
 Where wave or flood had never reached before, — 
 
 To form a sea, and on the world bestow 
 A vast highway, with tides to ebb and flow ; 
 In light refulgent, in extent subhme, 
 To swarm with joyous life through endless time, 
 
 14 
 
THE MERPwIMAC. 
 
 To float huge ships in commerce and in strife, 
 Of unborn nations, waking into life. 
 Through constant heat her atoms rise again 
 Floating in transit backward whence they came, 
 Feeding the stream with purer founts aflew. 
 Which, made eternal, onward still pursue ; 
 Both flood and vapor in one circuit run, 
 Like planet in her orb about the sun. 
 Or, like the life-blood coursing through the vein 
 By means of arteries return again, 
 Sustaining man's frail body from his birth, — 
 So moving waters do the vital earth ; 
 Pervading Nature's germs and fibres free. 
 Upward in channels creep through herb and tree, 
 They deck the daisy in her checkered bloom, 
 And swell the rose to yield a sweet perfume, 
 Are felt in trunk, in branch, in bud and leaves. 
 And thence escape in clouds, borne on the breeze ; — 
 
 15 
 
THE MERRIMAC. 
 
 Emblem of the ^^ Eternal T^ in their round 
 E'er free to give, but ne'er exhausted, found. 
 
 Next near the shore now gliding glittering seen, 
 Minnows innumerous in the waters green, 
 Minute in size, some faster fuller grown, 
 Each for an end, yet then unseen, unknown, 
 In caves now playful cautious prone to be. 
 Then out in depth of waters sporting free, 
 Each draws from Heaven the fleeting breath of life, 
 Here to subsist through elemental strife, 
 Varied in species, color, and in form. 
 Some cold in temperament, others warm. 
 Each to its kind attached, prolific, free 
 To seek and share a common destiny. 
 In lapse of time, from tiny minim grown. 
 The lohale loomed up in vast proportion shown, — 
 Now restless seeks more spacious depths to gain, 
 
 16 
 
THE MERRIMAC. 
 
 And finds a homestead in the briny main. 
 Huge sturgeons^ too, — all fish of larger growth,— 
 Swelled the deep current seaward splashing forth ; 
 While smaller forms, as trout and pickerel, 
 Inhabit native stream, content to dwell 
 Fresh-water tenants, tranquil quite as yet, 
 By foe unsought, unhurt by hook or net. 
 
 While others rove. The favorite salmon tries 
 The Arctic seas, in light of other skies; 
 Yet oft as spring betides the Merrimac, 
 His out-bound path he fondly follows back 
 With finny tribes. Then through the inlets trace 
 A countless progeny, an infant race 
 From hidden spawns, to swarm the harmless shore, 
 Then gambol outward, onward, as before, 
 Quiet, yet quick in transit to and fro, 
 E'er keen to see, what makes for weal or woe, 
 17 
 
THE MERRIMAC. 
 
 They drink sweet joys in light of nature given, 
 And fill a purpose grand, ordained of Heaven. 
 
 Meanwhile the tree for fruit and forest, sprung 
 From latent life beneath the soil, begun 
 To spread in varied shadows mother earth, 
 Verdant and fruitful; in productive birth. 
 Alike of insects strange, of beast or bird, 
 In ^airs connubial, fit for flock or herd. 
 As thus 'mid thicket dense, or bower green. 
 In earth or air, at first half hidden seen. 
 The merest mites ; — thence formed and fluttering 
 
 move, 
 Unfeathered owls, the raven, hawk, and dove; — 
 Whence flaunts the eagle due in course of time. 
 And songsters, warbling, wing for every clime. 
 .Whence all the nervy tenants of the air. 
 From proudest swan to flitting insect rare; 
 18 
 
THE MERRIMAC. 
 
 Whence clods of earth and drops of water pure, 
 First fraught with life, with life can but endure. 
 
 Of tardy growth sleek whelps in tiny form, 
 From latent caverns in the hill-side warm, 
 Of lion race, and beasts of other kind. 
 At length emerge and habits varied find. 
 
 Then next from curious germ beneath the sod, 
 Now blest in needful care of Nature's God, 
 Whose eye all-seeing here began to scan 
 The strange invention of mysterious man, — 
 By vigorous thrift, as fell the beaming rays 
 Of Phoebus, fitly felt on vernal days. 
 Came forth an Indian's^ infant form divine, 
 
 * The natives were called Indians by Columbus through mistake, 
 who at first supposed he had arrived on the eastern shore of India, 
 by which error they took their name. 
 
 19 
 
THE MERRIMAC. 
 
 First spawn of manhood on the stream of time; 
 Basking in valleys wild, earth-formed, earth-fed 
 For ripened age, — by native reason led. 
 And chief o'er beast and bird in power became 
 A fitful terror to the timid game. 
 
 Increased at length by nature's selfsame laws 
 To numerous tribes prolific, men and squaws, 
 From artful wigwams new, spread o'er the land. 
 First skill evinced in architecture grand, 
 He wanders wild, belted with arrows keen. 
 And blest with knowledge right and wrong between, 
 A stately Priest at peace. Provoked to strife, 
 He wields a hatchet and a scalping-knife 
 With dire revenge. E'er true to self and squaw 
 He knows no faith, no code, but Nature's law. 
 His footsteps fondly dwell where now we trace 
 Primeval heirlooms of the human race 
 
 1 
 20 
 
THE MEERIMAC. 
 
 The chisel smooth and tomahawk first made 
 Of stone, ere Art had formed the iron blade ; 
 Where, from a narrow dock with native crew, 
 He launched, in naval pride, the first canoe 
 And ploughed the Merrimac. His dripping oar 
 Ripples the waters never pressed before, — 
 Bestirs the scaly tribes to nervous fear 
 For rights most sacred thus invaded here. 
 As if by instinct they the chieftain knew 
 To be a tyrant and a glutton too, 
 Intent on native beast, on bird or fish. 
 By slaughter dire to fill a dainty dish ; 
 Whose webs are nets from bark of trees alone. 
 And mills that grind are mortars made of stone; 
 Who clothed his tribes, if clad they e'er appear. 
 In raiment plundered from the bounding deer; 
 Who maketh treacherous hooks from guiltless bones, 
 And drags a deadly net o'er sacred homes. 
 21 
 
THE MEREIMAC. 
 
 And thuSj o^er land and stream for ages long, 
 A race of red men, vagrant, plod along, 
 With language, taught from rustic Nature's throne, 
 And habits, each peculiarly their own ; 
 On growth spontaneous fed, content with prey. 
 What serves the purpose of a single day. 
 Their God is seen afar at rise of sun; 
 Their life in heaven is hunting here begun; 
 By laws unwritten, Sachems rule the tribes. 
 And lead the host, wherever ill betides. 
 To fatal war. By force of arrows, hurled, 
 They reigned sole monarchs in this western world. 
 
 The countless years thus passed of man's career, 
 Fraught with achievements oft enacted here ; 
 With works of skill, what human thought could 
 
 do ; 
 With grand exploits, or deeds of direful hue; 
 
 22 
 
THE MEERIMAC. 
 
 With kings and prophets, chief in note or wortn, 
 Through generations vast, transpired on earth, 
 Make but a blank in time's historic lore, 
 Till voyagers from another world came o'er; — 
 Columbus first of all; then many more 
 Within a hundred years, then next, before 
 The Pilgrims land,"*— adventurers indeed, — 
 From Adam sprung, juniors in race and hreed^ 
 But versed in letters, statute law, and art, 
 Seniors in science, just in head and heart. 
 
 They meet old Squanto wandering here alone, 
 Who, sore depressed, bereaved of friends and home, 
 Kecounts events which true tradition brought. 
 Of Indian life, what sad experience taught. 
 How, far and near, the dead unburied lay, 
 His own Patuxet tribes all swept away; 
 Yet nations seaward, deep in woods afar, 
 23 
 
THE MERRIMAC. 
 
 Spared from the scourge of pestilence and war, 
 Still thrive. There Massasoit, whose power main- 
 tains 
 The peace of tribes, in full dominion reigns. 
 
 From thence Samoset comes, with heart and 
 
 hand, 
 
 To "welcome Englishmen" and grant them land; 
 
 His visage dark with long and raven hair, — 
 
 No treacherous marks his beardless features bear; 
 
 With frame erect and strangely painted o'er, 
 
 Belted around his loins, a Sagamore, 
 
 Whose bony arm a bow and arrow held, 
 
 A heart unsoiled his tawny bosom swelled 
 
 To generous deeds. He broken EngHsh spake, 
 
 And talked anon of men, — of Francis Drake,* 
 
 That gallant white man, years before who came, 
 
 And gave New Albion her historic name, — 
 24 
 
THE MERRIMAC. 
 
 Of Captain Smith who since surveyed the coast, 
 And other voyagers, now a scattered host, — 
 Of former days some history tried to give, 
 And 'May of land" where rambUng red men live. 
 Truthful Samoset proves, and seeks to bring 
 The Pilgrim saiats in audience with his king. 
 
 Then Massasoit, the king, and chiefs appear; 
 As well the governor and suit draw near. 
 By music led, and soldiers at command. 
 Clad in the homespun of a foreign land. 
 And greet the king. The Icing no armor bears, 
 Save on his breast a knifelike weapon wears. 
 White beads about his neck, a gaudy ring, 
 And quaint tobacco bag, suspended by a string. 
 Comprise the insignia of his regal power, 
 
 Known and observed of nations as of yore. 
 
 25 
 
x-^^^^ \ P\ 
 
THE MERRDIAC. 
 
 Both king and chiefs, with painted features, 
 loear 
 Feathers disjoined from birds of plumage rare. 
 But little else. Kindly in turn they greet '^ 
 The Pilgrim band, and down in group now seat 
 Themselves, holding discourse of allied strength 
 In treaty,* and, when all agreed, at length. 
 They pass the pipe around, each drinh^ in turn. 
 A sacred compact thus they all confirm, — 
 A treaty wise, that full contentment gives 
 For fifty years while Massasoit lives. 
 
 Squanto meanwhile who'd served a peaceful end, 
 
 And in the Pilgrims' God had found a Friend 
 
 Bereaved and worn by care of bygone years 
 
 In mazy pathways through a vale of tears, 
 
 Falls sick ; and as by fever low depressed. 
 
 And life in doubt, to Pilgrims thus addressed 
 
 26 
 
THE MERRIMAC. 
 
 His sovereign will : " This hunting-ground is mine ; 
 The lakes, the vales, those mountain heights sublime, 
 The green-grown banks where Merrimac bright glows 
 And all the hills far as Pawtucket goes, — 
 These spacious ivilds, my kindred, now no more, 
 In full dominion held, and hunted o'er ; 
 Then dying, all their titles thence descend 
 To me, TisQUANTUM,' now so near this end 
 Of life. To thee, my Pilgrim Friends, I give 
 This broad domain ; here may the white man 
 
 live ; — 
 My bow and arrow, too, — I give thee all. 
 Hence let me go, obedient to the call 
 Of angel Death. Adieu ! " 
 
 Thus gracious dies 
 The last red ma7i beneath Patuxet skies. 
 And thus the English sole possession share, 
 By will from Squanto, all this region fair, 
 ' 27 
 
.r-iWp 
 
THE MERRIMAC, 
 
 Forever thence, to lay the forest low, 
 
 To fence fair fields, and drive the crooked plough, 
 
 To waste the wigwams which for ages spread 
 
 The wild, and build broad mansions in their stead ; 
 
 Schoolhouses, temples to the God of grace. 
 
 And cities proud, peculiar to the race 
 
 Of Adam, Diligent through honest toil, 
 
 They reap rich harvest from the virgin soil. 
 
 From culture urged with bold, aggressive sway, 
 
 Wild beasts, becoming frantic, flee away. 
 
 As ravenous bears and moose and wolves recede 
 
 Black-cat-tle and the noble horse succeed 
 
 In aid of husbandry.* Full flocks abound ; 
 
 The lierds increase as roll the seasons round ; 
 
 The desert e'en, through culture's grateful care. 
 
 Soon set with fruit, begins to bloom and bear; 
 
 Fair Nature smiles responsive to the plan 
 
 Of faith in God and industry of man, 
 28 
 
Jl>^ 
 
 
 1k.m 
 
THE MERRIMAC. 
 
 Next follows war. Dread anarchy appears, 
 As if to blast the crowning thrift of years 
 At death of Massasoit. Philip succeeds 
 As king,^ and hostile to the whites proceeds 
 To flagrant deeds ; and first of all in time, 
 A native priest,"^ suspected of no crime 
 But to have broached a secret plot, is slain ^° 
 By murderous hand. On Philip rests this stain 
 Of blood; and Justice stern but waits to draw 
 Her penal sword by force of English law 
 Against the natives. 'Tis not long withheld ; 
 By strong indictment seized, arraigned, and held, 
 Tobias and confederates are tried 
 By petit-jury, white and red allied, 
 Whose doubtful jurisdiction Philip pleads. 
 And to address the Forum thus proceeds : — 
 
 ♦ John Sassamon. 
 29 
 
THE MERRIMAC, 
 
 "What right, what law, these prisoners to ar- 
 raign 
 Have Englishmen in this my own domain? 
 What lease of venue from allotted lines 
 To make invasion and adjudge of crimes? 
 Why seek the Indian's life in guile forlorn — 
 Of these three men of native mothers born; 
 Who, one and all, with Sassamon, the slain, 
 Were my liege subjects, bound by laws the same 
 Which governed tribes a thousand years ago. 
 But which evaded brings an endless woe ? 
 What mind, what project, prompts your boundless 
 
 sway 
 But hence to drive the red man far away 
 From this fair lard, his birthright and his wealth, 
 And hold these regions vast through royal stealth? 
 With flagrant wrong the tribes will ne'er concur, 
 And to your bold intrusion I demur ! 
 
THE MERRIMAC. 
 
 My subjects here an English court may try ; 
 By spurious judgments, they may fall and die ; 
 Yet vengeance dread shall point the red man's steel, 
 And to the God of battles I'll appeal." 
 
 Philip withdrew, and ne'er returned again ; 
 His truthful talk was uttered but in vain. 
 The prisoners held and thus condemned to die 
 Brought darkness gathering o'er the western sky. 
 *' The bloody sunset " and the forked light 
 That broke the curtain of that fearful night, 
 Awaking English matrons, 'mid alarms. 
 To hug sweet infants with tenacious arms, 
 Foretold gross carnage of successive years 
 And devastation in a land of tears. 
 
 True to his word, which prudence thus defied, 
 
 Philip the Pilgrims fought, and, fighting, died,*' 
 
 31 
 
THE MERRIMAC. 
 
 With countless victims by the self-same blade, 
 Which mutual madness had in folly made. 
 
 And which in blood by oft-recurring strife 
 Through conflicts desperate kindled into life 
 By hate implacable still lingering long 
 Avenges Philip's death, and flagrant wrong 
 Eemembered well, encroachments rasli^ designed^ 
 Bepeated oft, as self had long inclined 
 The strangers here. But through the lapse of time, 
 Whence wayward hearts to better faith incline. 
 Whence discord wanes away, — then truth began 
 To shed with light the vagrant paths of man ; 
 Distracted foes their errors soon discern. 
 And back to reason once again return. 
 
 Then Peace, that welcome harbinger of health, 
 
 Of generous thrift, foreshadowing weal and wealth, 
 
 32 
 
THE MERRIMAC. 
 
 Brings her glad tidings down and cheers the land, 
 With prompt good-will, and noble deeds at hand, 
 To heal the broken heart, to make amends 
 For wilful waste, which from the past descends. 
 
 Thence this fair vale from mountain to the main 
 In vernal grandeur buds to bloom again. 
 And plenteous harvest with her golden ears 
 Crowning the prudence of progressive years 
 Adorns the field, and grace triumphant gives 
 To honest toil. Here Wonalancet^- lives 
 Unscathed by war, a sachem wise and true, — 
 Of fragment tribes still roving far and few 
 Along these banks where Pennakook ^' had stood 
 For countless years, through tempest, storm, and 
 
 flood ; — 
 And further seaward where Wamesit'"* lies, 
 Still well intrenched, a wigwam city thrives, 
 
THE MEREIMAC. 
 
 Eightly reserved the home of hunters here, 
 A fort within, and habitations dear 
 To friendly red men. While from dearth released, 
 From scourge of conflict and in strength increased, 
 Through many a favored year the Pilgrim mind^ 
 By faith and works, religious freedom find ; 
 Such as the Fathers sought and had foretold 
 Should come, in grace abounding as of old. 
 
 At length the French with England disagree, 
 Which next portends what carnage hence shall be, 
 
 What man's estate must prove, — a varied life; 
 
 From quiet peace proceeds terrific strife; 
 
 From plenty, dearth; from faith and virtue, sin; 
 
 From health, disease^ that wages war within. 
 
 Thus strangely intermixed are good and ill; 
 
 True to the purpose of a sovereign will 
 
 84 
 
THE MERRIMAC. 
 
 Nature but thrives by fire that burns within, 
 From planets broken, other worlds begin. 
 Yet bloody conflicts, such the world abhor 
 As mark the advent of avenging war; 
 And such the crime that now involves the race, 
 Fraught with its cruel curse and deep disgrace, 
 That through successive years again devours 
 The vital substance of contending powers. 
 
 From war-whoops wild, and earth in crimson 
 
 glow, 
 
 A wail goes up, — a note of woman^s woe ! 
 
 Fierce vengeance tempts her singleness of heart, 
 
 Her heroism true, her guileless art. 
 
 Her purity, her own maternal care, 
 
 Her faitli in God, that never knows despair, 
 
 Eler love indeed, that triumphs most and best 
 
 In trial sad, when most by danger pressed ; 
 
 85 
 
THE MERRIMAC. 
 
 Whose truth endures^ when fails our vital breath, 
 Inspires fond hope, and smooths the bed of death. 
 
 Such were the hearts whose wails went up 
 afar, 
 That brooked the fury of King William's War ; " 
 Whose just protection, savages defied. 
 And deare^st hopes of house and home denied ; 
 Around her hearth from hidden ambush springs 
 The lurking foe, and death, with horror, brings. 
 
 And this is war I — and such in wrath makes 
 haste 
 To lay the white man's cot and village waste ; 
 That deals in daggers poisoned, — coated o'er, — 
 The fagot torch, and gluts on human gore. 
 
 Against such crime the settlers strong unite ; 
 36 
 
iv 
 
THE MERRIMAC. 
 
 In various ways they rally for the fight ; 
 Some seek defence by force of gun and dogs ; 
 Some take to garrisons^ strong built of logs, 
 And some in squads with weapons rude assail 
 The /oe, and fierce pursue the hidden trail. 
 'Twas so at Newbury and at Bradford Town, 
 Far further north and seaward further down, 
 Along the vale where'er the white man dwelt. 
 Still unprovoked the selfsame scourge was felt. 
 
 And at old Haverhill, as " Mather " ** tells. 
 The flaring fagot burns where Dustin dwells. 
 That faithful father, frenzied to dismay. 
 Hastens the flight of children far away. 
 But not the infant ; that in wrath is slain. 
 Its mother, captured, trudges in the train 
 Of savages ; while in the clouds are shown 
 The crackling ruins of an English home. 
 
 37 
 
THE MERRIMAC. 
 
 The tribes evade pursuit; they skirt the glen, 
 
 Fast hastening through the fields away, and then 
 
 Dense woods and sable night conceal the foe; — 
 
 * 
 There, couched on broken boughs in beds of snow. 
 
 Repose they seek. Still mindful of the past, 
 
 Her heart depressed, by sleep benumbed at last. 
 
 There dreams that mother, weary, sick, at rest. 
 
 Of happy home, — of father, children blest, — 
 
 Of life's sweet joys profusely, kindly given, — 
 
 Of angel visits from the throne of Heaven, — 
 
 Of that true bliss religious life inspires, 
 
 That wafts the soul above earth's frail desires, — 
 
 Thus moved congenial thought her dreamy 
 
 mind 
 
 As moved that mighty forest in the wind, — 
 
 Thus, on, — till twilight gray with breaking beam 
 
 Now turns the tenor of a fleeting dream; 
 
 88 
 
THE MERRIMAC. 
 
 When half aroused, before her vision gaze 
 Appear grim visages and fagot blaze ; — 
 Tall sjpectreSj gaunt, whose garments drip with gore 
 From that infanticide the day before, 
 Wrought strange convulsions. Whence that fear- 
 ful wail? 
 'Twas Hannah Dustin," waking for the trail. 
 
 Her dark brown hair back on her shoulders 
 spread, 
 The frosts of night still on her garments laid. 
 At sight of death, at sound of war-whoop cry, 
 Avenging justice flashes in her eye ; 
 Still, far beyond the cloud-capt tree-tops, shown, 
 There gleamed in prospect yet another home ; 
 Light paints a tinge upon her pallid brow, 
 And up to God above she made a vow ; 
 For on the trees are marks of kindred blood, 
 
 39 
 
THE MERRIMAC. 
 
 And vengeance just is whispered in the wood. 
 Firm as the granite hills that brave the storm, 
 That mother's will is Jixedf and waxes warm. 
 Yet held to follow through the rugged way, 
 Kept equal step for many a weary day 
 ('Twas death to falter 'mid a savage throng) 
 With Mary Neff*' and boy,'' all move along 
 Through winding paths and tangled wildwood fens, 
 Where prowled the wolf, and where the serpent 
 
 dens. 
 Declivities they wind, and ford the brooks 
 That leap the mountain pass from granite rocks; 
 Thence in dark thicket, then in sunhght gleam. 
 And then in boats of birch on spacious stream, 
 Up where old Contoocook unites in pride 
 With Merrimac, profound in rolling tide ; 
 There, on an island wildj are captives shown 
 The wigwam rude, an Indian's favored home. 
 
 40 
 
tliPill 
 
 ;kl'"v - ill* 
 
 flyiiLiiirt 
 
THE MERRIMAC. 
 
 And there on mats, around the camp-fire flame, 
 Seated in group, they glut the slaughtered game. 
 Which hunger sought; and night, now gathering in. 
 Spreads her dark mantle o'er the woods within; 
 While from afar, a gentle zephyr breeze 
 Plays grateful music on the waving trees. 
 Inviting rest from th' rambling drudge of day. 
 That lulls the spirit from the world away. 
 
 Still does that zephyr omens strange portend, 
 A baleful bickering, some tragic end; 
 Yet ne'er more safe, ne'er less by danger pressed, 
 Than felt the drowsy foe reclined at rest ; — 
 And sleep sonorous, which fatigue inspires. 
 Drowns deep the tribe in front of midnight fires. 
 
 Then rose that mother, noiseless, moving near 
 
 To Neff, breathes mandates startling to her ear; 
 
 41 
 
THE MERRIMAC, 
 
 To Samuel, too, her vent of vengeance went 
 That fired his heart. They move with joint intent 
 And signal stealth. Around the foe they felt, 
 And drew a tomahawk each^ from the belt, 
 That touched his loins; and then erect they stand 
 Lifting that bloody blade with heedful hand; — 
 Down on his guilty head, three times they strike, 
 And three times three death follows, each alike. 
 
 No groan nor sigh is heard, nor sign of woe; 
 But stiff and cold there lies the bloody foe 
 'Neath clouds of night ; the wigwam embers fade, — 
 And phantom-shadows stalk along the glade 
 In depth of woods. The hills are hushed aloof, — 
 No voice, save from the owl or hungry wolf, 
 That clamors for his prey. 
 
 Yet as these three, 
 Once captive bound, now turn away, thus free^ 
 
 42 
 
THE MERRIMAC. 
 
 Bright beaming stars, through parted clouds be- 
 tween, 
 True guides intent from Heaven's arch serene. 
 Look down; while truths still valiant to prevail 
 O'er wrong, and justice stern with even scale, 
 Approve the deed; and from that crimson glade. 
 That dark, lone wigwam with unburied dead, 
 Eelieved, yet sad, they board a hght canoe 
 To dip the oar in hope of home, pursue 
 Adown bright Merrimac in generous tide, 
 That bears the craft on high through borders 
 
 wide, — 
 Thence paddling east, they gain a favored shore 
 Above the fall, where troubled waters roar 
 Below, — all safe at land. 
 
 The day-star rose, 
 Nature anon awakes from night's repose. 
 Wild birds from far thick gathered in the trees 
 
 43 
 
THE MERRIMAC. 
 
 Warble sweet welcome on the morning breeze 
 To strange adventurers; while all that day 
 Along the winding shore that leads the way 
 To Haverhill, they thoughtful trudge and talk, 
 What each had seen in life's bewildered walk, — 
 Of childhood years beguiled with favorite toys, — 
 Of love^ — of home delights, — of buried joys. 
 
 Thus did the women mutual converse hold, 
 Till Samuel from mutest manner cold 
 Bespoke them thus. " What mean these signs of 
 
 pain? 
 These crimson marks that through my garments 
 
 stain ? 
 Did such from veins of Bampaco descend. 
 Who gave me bow and arrow as a friend ? 
 Truth undisguised these morning beams disclose. 
 The sure avenger of his dying woes ! 
 44 
 
THE MERRIMAC. 
 
 Unwelcome tints ! they haunt my homeward way 
 
 And at the threshold threatened to betray 
 
 ^le there. Shall I, long-lost, a mother's boy, 
 
 Return and pangs impart instead of joy 
 
 To such a heart? No, — leave me here; unknown 
 
 To seek some hidden cave aloof from home ; 
 
 Or send me, captive bound, to dwell again 
 
 In tents, afar from her who mourns me slain, — 
 
 Whence crime concealed shall never vent a stain 
 
 Nor rumor sad to blot a cherished name." 
 
 He said, and there half halting stood 
 
 Till Mary chides him in a different mood ; — 
 
 " I pray thee, Samuel, list to me awhile, — 
 
 Misgivings sad attend but to beguile 
 
 Thy youth. But list, — they move me to descry 
 
 In wrong, if thou art guilty, so am I ; 
 45 
 
THE MERRIMAC. 
 
 For at the war-whoop cry I could have fled, 
 And shunned captivity, its horrors dread ; 
 Yet would not yield to fate that infant dear. 
 Nor fail my mistress kind through selfish fear. 
 Alarmed, I seized it from the cradle there ; — 
 That life, I begged a furied fiend to spare 
 At risk of self. Yet we no favor gain; 
 Our plea, our prayers most fervent, all in vain ! 
 Impelled, from horrors which this heart had stung. 
 To our liege mother and to thee I clung. 
 In bonds a comrade held, a volunteer 
 In all the dangers dread of such career. 
 I've more to fear than thou, who, found alone, 
 Wert forced at Worcester from parental home 
 By brutal foes. Grim cruelties they sought, 
 But on themselves relentless vengeance brought, 
 In which an agent I indeed was one 
 To bear a part in wrong, if wrong were done — 
 
 46 
 
THE MERRIMAC. 
 
 If in the shed of blood a crime it be, 
 To break from hell-born bondage to be free, 
 Then is the fault in me much more than thee. 
 Who had no choice of lot nor chance to flee. 
 Yet have I faith from inward teachings given, 
 Life's freedom gained is justified of Heaven ; 
 Whose care paternal henceforth let us trust, 
 As did our lathers, faithful from the first." 
 
 Thus did they talk of self, of wrong and right. 
 Meandering along till late at night 
 Through narrow pathways, hindered now and then 
 By tangled thicket dark, by brook and fen. 
 Then next by range of hills, where lies at length 
 A deep ravine, and there, through lack of strength. 
 They turn aside beneath a shelving rock 
 O'ergrown of spreading pines; thither to stop, 
 Inclined to rest; but fain would loakeful keep, 
 
 47 
 
THE MERRIMAC. 
 
 Yet, lost anon by force of needful sleep, 
 Kemain still there, till morn's refulgent ray 
 Reflected on the wave of Nashua,'^" 
 Cast varied shadows in the branchy wood 
 Around the group. 
 
 There "mother Dustin" stood 
 Invoking favors from the throne of God 
 To be bestowed in coming time for good 
 For Mary Neff, for Samuel the same, 
 Her pilgrim comrades, whence deliverance came— 
 
 And briefly now, as ended then her prayer. 
 
 Addressed them each in turn still waiting there 
 
 In kindness thus : " Mary, to thee I owe 
 
 Much more of debt than I can e'er bestow 
 
 Of earth's reward. Thy truthfulness of heart, 
 
 Thy generous constancy, thy guileless art, 
 
 In trial proved, this thankful soul reveres; 
 48 
 
THE MEERIMAC. 
 
 May blessings, Mary, crown thy future years j 
 My home is thine, if home I see again, 
 Devoutly favored thou shalt there remain. 
 
 "And you, dear Samuel, valiant in the past, 
 
 Honest in purpose, faithful to the last. 
 
 No more should doubt. To savages belong 
 
 The retribution of relentless wrong, 
 
 And not to thee. Are not His dealings just 
 
 Who Israel led? Shall we our God distrust? 
 
 No. — Brood no more of doubts, most noble boy ! 
 
 Go, seek thy way to Worcester ; bear true joy 
 
 To her who bore thee, and whose hallowed care 
 
 Shall haste thee onward to her presence there. 
 
 Still icndlsguised, in trutJi of God still led. 
 
 Wash not a stain from out thy garments red. 
 
 Thy deeds but known shall welcome truth impart ; 
 
 They'll prove the valor of a valiant heart. 
 49 
 
THE MERRIMAC. 
 
 Take yonder skiff; 'twill be no trespass done, 
 For thee it drifted from a fate unknown. 
 For thee my voice in thanks shall hence ascend ; 
 Away ! and blessings on thy life attend." 
 
 Still loath to part, yet harboring doubts no more. 
 The lad, wide wafted on the westward shore, 
 His beckoning paddle raised; with aprons, too. 
 The women, answering, waved their last adieu. 
 
 Thence turning, — tearful, meditating mild 
 On distant " dear ones,^ wandered through the wild, 
 And Haverhill reached : — to whom, from governors 
 
 even. 
 Came generous gifts and thankful plaudits given. 
 
 And there they rest. There upward points, 
 to-day, 
 
 60 
 
THE MERRIMAC. 
 
 , A monument of stone from Dustings clay. 
 Her noble deeds are held in high renown, 
 Sacred like heirloom in that ancient town ; 
 And long as Merrimac's bright waters glide 
 Shall stand that mother's fame^ still by its side. 
 
 Such were the bickerings that brought the woes 
 Of WilliomCs time ; which from the tribes arose 
 Through sordid hate, that rankled in the place 
 Of gospel truth J unknown to such a race. 
 
 Enough of war. Yet others still there were 
 Profuse in blood. 'Tis man's estate to err. 
 Let pass Queen Anne^s^^ the troubles of her day, 
 The craft of Jesuits, fruitful of dismay; 
 Nor need to note the French and Indian^^ strife. 
 Nor trace the torch, the tomahawk, and knife 
 Further. 'Tis now the olive-branch divine, 
 51 
 
THE MERRIMAC. 
 
 That springs from culture's agency benign, 
 With better deeds the record to embalm, 
 Succeeds the war of Wolf against Montcalm. 
 
 Now industry with thrift again moves on, 
 Blest in the fruits of earth and arts anon, 
 While Science fair her grateful tribute brings. 
 And Charity, with healing in her wings, 
 To faith and works. The colonies incline 
 To independence, and in strength combine ; 
 The tribes remote from civil life retire, 
 Still wandering wild as wont through frail desire, 
 Leave free the field to prosper many a year 
 Unstained of war, in fruitful bounties fair. 
 
 Then selfcontrol begins to seek solution, 
 
 A thirst for freedom threatens revolution. 
 
 At first provoked by Britain's indiscretion, 
 62 
 
THE MERPJMAC. 
 
 Her power assumed, her flagrant legislation, 
 And other wrongs, invasion comes at length, 
 Resistance follows, — then a tug at strength 
 Full seven years." On hostile fields, engaged, 
 The armies gathered, and the battle raged. 
 
 John Bull, in strength of scientific drill, 
 Inflamed the ardor of untutored skill ; — 
 The Yankee's fire-lock belched terrific flame. 
 Against whose vengeance science was but vain ; - 
 And scythe and pitchfork wielded for the right 
 The better weapons proved, in such a fight. 
 True valor thus from pilgrim hearts of yore, 
 Drove the brave Britons from Columbia's shore. 
 
 Then through the vale, the Veteran we trace. 
 
 Firm in deportment, faithful to his race, 
 
 Down from the fields of conquest and renown, 
 
 53 
 
THE MERRIMAC. 
 
 Observed of all the host, the heroes of the towu ; — • 
 Ben. Pierce''' is there far seen amid the. throng, 
 With laurels crowned, they wind the way along ; — 
 And there's old John^^ who, when the field was dark, 
 Would risk his life at risk of ''Molly Stark.'' 
 These were our fathers, manly in their might 
 From whom descended liberty and right. 
 
 Where now they rest shall fragrant flowers grow; 
 Their valiant deeds shall coming ages know ; 
 And filial care shall cherish evermore, 
 That noble tree they planted at our door. 
 
 So wasteful revolution passed away 
 Like darkest hour, foreshadowing brilliant day. 
 
 Now smiling spring comes in from winter's blast 
 To swell the seed ; and now the bloom is past ; 
 
 54 
 
THE MERRIMAC. 
 
 Productive seasons flit their hours away, 
 Each warms the world in bounty day by day, 
 That Hving things in nature may survive. 
 That man and beast that come and go may thrive. 
 From varied gifts subsistence we devise, 
 And in due season gather in supphes. 
 The husbandman hath care for weighty sheaves, 
 Yet for a time unthreshed the grain he leaves ; 
 While down the meadow, mowers all the way 
 Swing swath on swath of verdant heavy hay, — 
 Tagged there by Johnny, tossing it in air. 
 To make the crop while yet the field is fair ; 
 The rakers next, — the teamster in his turn. 
 With rugged cart and oxen, comes anon. 
 Each vies in strength, in manly ardor shown. 
 To glean the glen, and hear the harvest home. 
 But when dark clouds thick gather o'er the sky, 
 
 They quit the fumid field to thresh the rye, 
 55 
 
THE MERRIMAC. 
 
 Up to the barn, a grandsire built of old, 
 Where frightened swallows weary wings unfold 
 Above. There face to face within the door, 
 In squads divided on the spacious floor ; — 
 The heavy sheaves lay head to head between, 
 The swinging flails high in the air are seen. 
 Blow follows blow, and strength to strength they vie. 
 The bundles bounding rattle out the rye. 
 
 As when two charioteers by Bacchus strong 
 Inflamed, now homeward lash their steeds along 
 O'er yonder bridge, — swift whirl the wheels 
 
 around 
 By dint of trial, — and heavy hoofs rebound. 
 So from the floor the farmer's noisy flail 
 Reverberates aloud along the vale, — 
 
 Then notCj when evening gathers o'er the plain^ 
 56 
 
THE MERRIMAC. 
 
 Now laid at length a heavy heap of grain; 
 There to be winnowed, when old Boreas blows, 
 Then high the chaff in cloudy current flows, 
 And from the lifted measure shaken seen, 
 The grain in conic pile falls pure and clean ; 
 Then stored in bin, or cask, safe-held at will, 
 Awaits the money-market or the mill. 
 
 Meanwhile the field assumes a spiky form; 
 The time hath come to gather in the corn ; 
 On hand the laborers, on hand the cart, 
 The lads are all aglee to take a part ; 
 For now they know when eve approaches near, 
 'Twill bring that joyful husking of the year. 
 All now one purpose faithfully fulfil. 
 The rustling ears are hurried from the hill 
 With ardent zeal ; and flushed with hopeful joys 
 Above the standing stocks both men and boys 
 67 
 
THE OLD HOMES TEA.D. 
 
THE MERRIMAC. 
 
 High on their shoulders crowded baskets wield. 
 
 The heavy harvest carted from the field, 
 
 They pile in heaps within the grating door 
 
 Throughout the spacious barn and kitchen floor^ 
 
 At eve. 
 
 There then the guests all seated down, 
 
 From every cottage home in all the town ; 
 
 Some bldy some young, and some quite lately born, 
 
 Vie with each other husking out the corn;- 
 
 In social chat and merry song they heep 
 
 The golden ears fast flying from the heap; 
 
 "While startled oft, the seated crowd appear, 
 
 At lucky swains, who find a crimsoned ear; 
 
 For in such luck, 'tis never deemed amiss, 
 
 To " go the round " and give the maids a kiss. 
 
 The sprightly boys, with bending baskets borne, 
 
 Remove the husks, and bear away the corn. 
 
 68 
 
THE MERRIMAC. 
 
 Then comes the hour that gathers large supplies 
 Of apple-dowdies^® and of pumpkin-pies, 
 Then bends the board with viands, fruit, and wine; — 
 All hail ! that gleeful hour, the olden time. 
 Then when the week hath turned its toil away 
 How mild and silent is the Sabbath-day I 
 
 The modest maiden churchward as she goes, 
 Proud in good looks and go-to-meeting clothes. 
 Across the glen untouched of dust or dews. 
 Bears in her hand her nice embroidered shoes; 
 Her stockings, too, home knit, of purest white; — 
 Now near the temple, pulls them on aright; 
 Then in the precinct of that holy place. 
 Where loud the parson grave dispenses grace, 
 Shines forth a beauty flounced; there seated down 
 The belle of all the beaux in Dracut Town. 
 
 69 
 
THE MERRIMAC. 
 
 Such neat conceptions and such care in dress, 
 Deliberate judgments do not count the less. 
 Go back and see ! A glance shall well suffice ; 
 Our kind old mothers were the best of wives; — 
 They formed our habits, shaped our very lives; 
 Their precepts prayerful, pointed to the skies. 
 True joys most dear to early days alone, 
 Un grudged they sought, forgetful of their own. 
 Men of my age ! We hail that highland glee 
 That cheered the homes, the hearts of you and me 
 Of yore. 
 
 Ye matrons, too, whosj childliood prime 
 Is merged in memories of the olden time, 
 Call up that hour ! and bear me witness, too. 
 Of what in early life you used to do, — 
 How then on tip-toe cotton yarn you spun, 
 How buzzed the band and how the spindle run, 
 
 How moved the thread around the handy reel, 
 
 60 
 
THE MERRIMAC. 
 
 How dear old mother whirled the linen wheel; 
 
 While at her knee the prattling baby stands 
 
 Provoking grandma with his little hands, 
 
 To feel the forked distaff's flaxy curl, 
 
 Or ferret out the curious whiz and whirl 
 
 Of wheel and spool ; —heedless of frown or fliers 
 
 Or flax-comb keen. So fondly he admires. 
 
 Th' enchanting scenes of childhood's joyful day 
 We cherish still, though fled like flowers of May. 
 In truth, alike the habits had of yore, 
 That linen wheel and loom are known no more. 
 
 Anon advance the riper years of art, 
 In which inventions take decisive part, 
 Whence generous genius prosecutes the plan 
 To overcome the drudgery of man ; 
 Makes lifeless things, impeUed at his control, 
 
 61 
 
THE MERRIMAC. 
 
 To do the duty of a living soul. 
 
 Hence cotton-gins and spinning-jennies fine 
 
 Outrun the wooden wheels of olden time. 
 
 Hence power of steam, applied on sea and land, 
 
 Expelling labor with a heavy hand, 
 
 Work startling wonders, through mechanic skill, 
 
 To move the car, the steamboat, or the mill. 
 
 By industry that artful Lowell" led, 
 By faith far-seeing which a Jackson^® had, 
 The noisy flood, that o'er the breaker swells, 
 Is turned aside to follow huge canals. 
 Structures gigantic rise in prospect fair ; 
 Cities that spread in beauty, here and there 
 Adorn the valley. Manufactories filled 
 With prompt machinery, as art had willed 
 Her work, in stately ranks now line the shore 
 Of Merrimac. 
 
 62 
 
THE MERRIMAC. 
 
 Now changed that torrent roar! 
 Her fountains turned flow down in tranquil stream, 
 And rolling round the graded hills, between, 
 Through deep-laid channels, never washed before. 
 Propel the ponderous wheel with micjldy power ; — 
 
 The wheels " within the wheel,'' with one consent, 
 Fly round and round, each on its duty sent; 
 Ten thousand spindles in their places spin. 
 Ten thousand spools fast wind their fibres in. 
 Ten thousand shuttles shoot across the web 
 Fed by the mules'' slow back and forward led ; — 
 Fast roll the fabrics from the rolhng beam. 
 Complete in beauty, true in thread or seam; 
 The sheeting white, the listed broadcloths fine. 
 Neat satinet, and carpets superfine; 
 The gaudy prints and blankets plainer made. 
 For realms remote, for home or foreign trade. 
 
THE MERRIMAC. 
 
 Workshops with throngs the villes environ, 
 Magic in power o'er wood, o'er steel and iron ; 
 Alive in thought, and helping one another, 
 Onward in handy art advancing further, 
 Embracing all the works that man can do, 
 Through labor fruitful and inventions new. 
 
 The iron horse comes next to greet the day, 
 A gift of Stephenson. Now on the way, 
 With charioteer half hid upon his back. 
 Along where Merrimac had led the track 
 Bears high his head. Held harnessed to a train. 
 Fraught full of life, his energies aflame 
 Loud whistling wild, and fierce impelled amaiUf 
 He skirts the hills and snorts along the plain ; — 
 
 When in the shades of night you chance to hear 
 
 The screaming whistle of that charioteer 
 64 
 
THE MERRIMAC. 
 
 Afar; — then note the belching smoke and Jire; 
 The train, impelled as if b}^ Pluto's ire. 
 Darts like a dragon, whizzing, winding past, 
 As if from gates of hell let loose at last ; — 
 Yet takes a charge to distant realms afar, 
 And brings a kind return in peace or war, 
 Shortens forever the tedious length of space, 
 Burdens to bear for every clime and race. 
 
 Not less the Telegraph, contrived of Morse, 
 
 Makes labor less. Thrown out upon its course 
 
 Full fraught with messages diffuses light. 
 
 Nor time nor space is measured in its flight, — 
 
 From State to State in every region hurled, 
 
 Skirting the ocean-bed from world to world 
 
 To bear the news; — to tender useful aid 
 
 To all the traffic of a foreign trade ; — 
 
 To catch the culprit in his wayward flight, 
 % 65 
 
THE MEREIMAC. 
 
 And turn him back to common law and right. 
 'Tis thus that "letters to the lightnings" given, 
 Flashed o^er the earth, reflect the light of heaven, 
 Make common cause for good, with all mankind. 
 So man progresses in the march of mind. 
 
 Nor less the fields in cultivation fine, 
 Through deep discovery in progressive time, 
 Advance. The patent plough, the scythe for mowing 
 And all things else of art, that seem worth knowing. 
 Invented now overcome the farmer's toil. 
 And make him monarch of this ancient soil. 
 
 Old Pennakook puts on a modern name; 
 Wamesit wild still onward does the same ; 
 While Amoskeag, no more the red man's pride, 
 Makes Manchester a city by her side. 
 
THE MERRIMAC. 
 
 Southward and seaward, ancient Newburyport, 
 Of ships productive, strong in force and fort, 
 With even hand fulfils a noble part 
 In foreign commerce and the works of art. 
 
 Lowell is queen ; — her history recalls 
 The might and memories of Pawtucket Falls. 
 Where Wonalancet dwelt in wigwam fair, 
 Now dwells, in pride of mansion. Dr. Ayer, 
 Whose nostrums pure and scientific skill, 
 To cure the nations from a tide of ill. 
 In doses daily measured by the tons, 
 And cords of calendars in numerous tongues, 
 Go forth. 
 
 Here progress made in modern time, 
 Where science, art, and enterprise combine. 
 Tends but to tell how moves the world apace 
 
 At will and wisdom of the Saxon race. 
 
 67 
 
THE MEREIMAC. 
 
 Lawrence and Nashua, the later growth 
 Of cities chartered, proud in art and worth, 
 Still thrive. Wide interspersed are town and vill 
 At work in agriculture, shop, and mill ; 
 HooKSETT and Suncook, once an Indian home, 
 With ancient Salisbury, drive the busy loom. 
 
 Pembroke and Bradford ! Institutions there 
 Inspire the young in light of learning fair. 
 Here, too, old Andover, in science grand. 
 Gives gospel truth, glad-tidings to the land. 
 And Tyngsboro', Chelmsford ! wander where you 
 
 will, 
 The church and school are found, triumphant still. 
 
 Northward is Franklin, where wild waters meet 
 From mountain height and limpid lake to greet 
 
 Our Merrimac; — the rustic region ivhere 
 
 68 
 
,^^~t^%^^ 
 
THE MERRIMAC. 
 
 The noble Web3TER"^° lived, — first breathed the air ; 
 Schooled here in youth, in manhood he became 
 A nation's boast, a statesman known to fame ; 
 A fame still chanted from the mountain rills, 
 Soft whispered wild in these his native hills. 
 That name renowned shall live forever to he 
 Bevered with Whitefield, slumbering near the sea. 
 
 Alike shall Pilgrims inspiration draw 
 At thought of Parsons,^* " Giant of the law ; " 
 Whose life and learning found in book or plea. 
 Learned by the learned extend beyond the sea; — 
 His native Newbury strives in vain, alone. 
 Against the world to hold him as her own. 
 
 Here's Amesbury, too, far seen in learned lights, 
 'Tis here a Whittier sings for human rights^ 
 Whose prayerful cadence, high is heard in heaven 
 
 69 
 
THE MERRIMAC. 
 
 Till God's full answer back to earth is given 
 In favor kind ; — and yet through judgments just, 
 We're taught in wisdom, and in whom to trust. 
 
 Thus true it is, yet dread in deep disgrace— 
 An oligarchy of a southern race. 
 Born there of hell, and bred in slavery's school, 
 "Let loose their dogs of war " and sought to rule, 
 And Sumpter falls. " To arms ! " the patriot cries ; — 
 To arms provokedy the northern legions rise; — 
 Nor age, nor caste, nor diflferent race, decline ; 
 Alike in zeal, alike in faith combine 
 In manly strength. From all the vales and hilla. 
 Out from mechanic shops, from nois^/ mills; 
 Physicians even, divines, and legal bar 
 Turn heroes brave and rally for the war; — 
 
 As when a bull disturbs a native hive, 
 70 
 
THE MERRIMAC. 
 
 The bees ten thousand buzz and outward drive, 
 
 Black in the air the vast battalions bring 
 
 Their horrid weapons down, fierce on the wing, 
 
 Upon the herd. So bent on war, alivQ 
 
 Legions of Yankees from the northern hive 
 
 Leap forth aflame, in native strength and power, 
 
 Wielding dread engines yet unknown to war j — 
 
 Countless in cost, the preparation grand, 
 
 Eor deadly conflicts on the sea or land; 
 
 The monitor, in iron mail afloat ; — 
 
 The monstrous mortar with a yawning throat; — 
 
 Vast shells and slot ivitJiin, of strange invention ; — 
 
 Six hundred pounders, slugs of huge dimension. 
 
 The new capt-rifle keen, the seven-shooter, 
 
 Ten thousand tons of iron, lead, or pewter. 
 
 Armed thus the cohorts tramp the trembling 
 
 plain, 
 
 71 
 
THE MERRIMAC. 
 
 And crowd the mighty ships that plough the main, 
 The conscious thunders, muttering from afar, 
 Bemoan the horrors of impending war. 
 Not less the bolt, oft breaking from the sky, 
 Bespeaks dread vengeance, threatened from on high. 
 Four years of darJcness curtains all the plain. 
 Four years of conflict on the land and main, 
 Earth deep in sorrow for the thousands slain, 
 Prove but the fruit, the penalty, and pain 
 Of sin. Yet high o'er all that earth betides, 
 Th' eternal Jove in majesty presides ; 
 And in His mercy, sovereign will, and power. 
 Forgives the crime and turns the tide of war. 
 Now tumbling from her bulwarks, treason falls ; 
 Loud ring the batteries, crushing in her walls. 
 The sweeping navies press the rebel shore, 
 From field to field the belching mortars roar. 
 Yet doth dread carnage cease at Heaven's will j 
 
 72 
 
THE MERRIMAC. 
 
 The curse ^'^ is but removed, and all is still. 
 Great God of armies, we adore thy name 
 For thy forgiveness of a nation's shame, 
 Who, through the sea " led Israel like a flock/' 
 Hath led this modern Israel to "the rock 
 Beyond the flood." Oh, let us learn thee still; 
 Who bears thy image must obey thy will ! 
 To whom but man should noble deeds belong, 
 To learn the right divine, to spurn the lorong? 
 What we would have of others, do to them, 
 Alike the work of nations as of men. 
 
 Of God-like man ! — if thus he e'er appears, 
 
 'Tis when his truth outlives declining years, 
 
 Who ventures all in strength of youth or age, 
 
 In deeds divine his energies engage. 
 
 Who with one hand sustains a falling brother, 
 
 Yet grasps his country's flag firm in the other; 
 
 73 
 
THE MERRIMAC. 
 
 To flaunt its folds on freedom's towering height, 
 In life's last hour still battles for the right; 
 'Tis such whose hand hath broken the galling fetter, 
 'Tis he whose life hath left the world the better, 
 To him shall rise a fervid, loud acclaim; 
 So beats a nation's heart at Lincoln's name; 
 By whose true teachings treason lost its sway ; — 
 Then passed the good man from the world away. 
 Still Johnson lives, — a Grant to lead the van, 
 A Sherman bold, — a gallant Sheridan, 
 Hence shall the nation social pride maintain, 
 In sovereign States shall sovereign order reign. 
 Hail glorious day! 'Tis wisdom's plan ordained, 
 Above the storm is liberty proclaimed; 
 The sun of peace resplendent shines again ; 
 O'er all the vale, it cheers th' abodes of men. 
 
 Come back, Tisquantum I if above ye dw^ll, 
 74 
 
j: -y^^i^yy^y^ 
 
THE MEERIMAC. 
 
 Behold thy Merrimac, once loved so well; 
 Thy race had traced it from creation's start; 
 The white man turns it to the works of art; 
 Survey its progress these three hundred years, 
 Since up and down ye wandered here in tears 
 Jlone, bereaved. 
 
 Call once again to view 
 Thy thick-set forest ivild, thy birch canoe, 
 Where now thy kindred sleep as from the first. 
 Where Pilgrim saints since mingled in the dust, 
 Where now the ploughman trudges in his toil, 
 Thoughtless of what still lies beneath the soil ; 
 Oh ! let us know from what thy name inspires, — 
 What is man's destiny, what Heaven requires 
 More fully still. From realms eternal, fair, 
 Tell us of hunting-ground, of glory there, 
 Where blissful prospect Heaven shall fulfill. 
 To generations onward, upward still, — 
 76 
 
THE MEEEIMAC. 
 
 While purest fountains flowing failing never 
 Shall swell the tide of Merrimac forever, — 
 Sure sign here given of God's enduring care, 
 For what we see in heaven, in earth, or air. 
 
 76 
 
 Boston: Printed by Innes and NUes, 37 CoralulL 
 
APPENDIX 
 
 * The " Merrimac " takes its rise in the White Mountains ; is 
 formed by the junction of the Pemigewaset and Winnipisseogee Riv- 
 ers; is 110 miles long, and empties into the ocean near Newbury- 
 port. It has been said, "No river in the world works so hard aa 
 the Merrimac." 
 
 * Sir Francis Drake visited New England in 1585. 
 » The Pilgrims landed Dec. 22, 1620. 
 
 < The Indian's mode of greeting was by a kiss. 
 
 * The Treaty with King Massasoit was made March 22, 1621. 
 8 Smoking was called drinking by the natives. 
 
 '' Tisquantum, alias Siuanto, died in Dec, 1622. 
 
 8 Cattle were first brought into New England in 1624. 
 
 ^ Massasoit died, and Philip became king in 1670. 
 
 >° Sassamon was murdered Jan. 29, 1674, 0. S. Two of the mur- 
 derers, Tobias and Mattashinnamy, were executed June 8, 1674; the 
 ether, Wampapaquam, was shot in jail. The indictment against them 
 contained the following count: — 
 
 " For that being accused, that they did with joynt consent vpon the 
 29 of January anno 1674 att a place called Assowamset pond wilfully 
 
 77 
 
APPENDIX. 
 
 and of sett purpose %nd of malice fore thought and by force and armea 
 murder John Sassamon another Indian, by laying violent hands on him 
 and striking him, or twisting his necke, V7itil hee was dead; and to 
 hyde and conceale this theire said murder att the tyme and place afore- 
 said did cast his dead body through a hole of the ice i^ito the said j^ond" 
 
 " Philip was slain August 12, 1676. 
 
 '2 WoNALAKCET, a SOU of Passacouaway, lived at Pawtucket Falls, 
 and was Chief in the Merrimac Valley from 1660 to 1677. 
 
 13 Pennakook is now Concord, N. H. 
 
 14 Wamesit is Lowell, and was called the Great Neck. 
 
 15 King William's war commenced in 1690 and ended in 1698. 
 
 16 Cotton Mather, a clergyman, bom Feb. 12, 1662, and died Feb. 
 13, 1727, aged sixty-five. 
 
 1^ Hannah Dustin and Mary NefF were taken captives at Haver- 
 hill, Mass., March 15, 1697. Assisted by Samuel Leonardson, they 
 slew their captors on the 31st day of the same month. There were 
 eight children in the Dustin family. When Mrs. D. was taken, the 
 infant was slain against a tree. The other children escaped by flight, 
 assisted by the father. 
 
 18 Mary Neff, the maid of Mrs. D., who, when the Dustm house 
 was set on fire, chose captivity rather than to forsake her mistress 
 and the infant. 
 
 1® Samuel Leonardson was a boy who had been captured by the 
 
 Indians prior to then: attack upon the Dustin house, who, with Mary 
 
 Neff, assisted Mrs. D. in killing the Indians on the island in the 
 
 Contoocook. 
 
 78 
 
APPENDIX. 
 
 20 Nashua, a river emptying into the Merrimac from the west at 
 Nashua, N. H. 
 ^^ Queen Anne's war of eleven years ended March 31, 1713. 
 '2 The French and Indian war of seven years ended May 18, 1763. 
 
 23 The Revolution of seven years ended by definitive treaty Sept. 
 30, 1783. 
 
 24 Ben J. Pierce, a native of Chelmsford, Mass., was a captain in 
 the Revolution, and was two years governor of New Hampshire, and 
 died at Hillsboro* in 1839, aged eighty -one. 
 
 25 John Stark, a major-general in the Revolution, was a native 
 of Londonderry, N. H., and died at Manchester May 8, 1822, aged 
 ninety-four. He rests on the second bank of the Merrimac, in that 
 city. At Bennington, on rallying his men he is reported to have said, 
 " We will gain the battle, or Molly Stark shall be a widow to-night." 
 
 26 Apple-dowdy, a huge pie, which was common in the rural dis- 
 tricts, and known by that name. 
 
 27 Francis C. Lowell was a native of Newburyport. He died in 
 1817, aged thirty-eight. From him the city of Lowell took its name. 
 
 28 Patrick T. Jackson was a native of Newburyport. He died 
 Sept. 24, 1847, aged sixty-seven. 
 
 29 Mvle, an instrument for spinning thread for the web, worked by 
 hand; called also mule-jenny. 
 
 3" DvANiEL Webster, a native of Salisbury, now Franklin, N. H., 
 died at Marshfield, Mass., Oct. 24, 1852, aged seventy. 
 M Theophilus Parsons, a native of the Parish of Byfield in New- 
 
 79 
 
APPENDIX. 
 
 bnry, Mass., was Chief-Justice of Massachusetts seven years, and died 
 at Boston Oct. 30, 1813, aged sixty-four. 
 
 32 The Rebellion commenced April 12, 1861, at the storming of 
 Fort Sumpter, and ended at the surrender of Lee, April 9, 1865 
 
 Note. — For an extended view of what is related in the context, 
 the reader is referred to the following interesting works: Drake's 
 History of the Indians, Bouton's History of Concord, Potter's His- 
 tory of Manchester, Fox's History of Dunstable, Cowley's History 
 of Lowell, and Smith's History of Newburyport. 
 
 80 
 
 ^g»^i^^«S< 
 
 Boston: Printed by Innes and NUes, 37 CornhllL 
 
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