"Such a message as that, I am sure I should mangle and mar it; If you would have it well done,-I am only repeating your maxim,— You must do it yourself, you must not leave it to others!" But with the air of a man whom nothing can turn from his purpose, Gravely shaking his head, made answer the Captain of Plymouth : 66 Truly the maxim is good, and I do not mean to gainsay it ; But we must use it discreetly, and not waste powder for nothing. I can march up to a fortress and summon the place to surrender, But march up to a woman with such a proposal, I dare not. I'm not afraid of bullets, nor shot from the mouth of a cannon, But of a thundering No!' point-blank from the mouth of a woman, That, I confess, I'm afraid of, nor am I ashamed to confess it! me; Surely you cannot refuse what I ask in the name of our friendship ! Then made answer John Alden: "The name of friendship is sacred: What you demand in that name, I have not the power to deny you ! So the strong will prevailed, subduing and moulding the gentler; Friendship prevailed over love, and Alden went on his errand. III. THE LOVER'S ERRAND. So the strong will prevailed, and Alden went on his errand, All around him was calm, but within him commotion and conflict, As in a foundering ship, with every roll of the vessel, "Must I relinquish it all," he cried with a wild lamentation, "Must I relinquish it all, the joy, the hope, the illusion? Was it for this I have loved, and waited, and worshipped in silence? Over the wintry sea, to the desolate shores of New England ? All is clear to me now; I feel it, I see it distinctly! anger, For I have followed too much the heart's desires and devices, Worshipping Astaroth blindly, and impious idols of Baal. This is the cross I must bear; the sin and the swift retribution." So through the Plymouth woods John Alden went on his errand; Crossing the brook at the ford, where it brawled over pebble and shallow, Gathering still, as he went, the May-flowers blooming around him, Fragrant, filling the air with a strange and wonderful sweetness, Children lost in the woods, and covered with leaves in their slumber. "Puritan flowers," he said, "and the type of Puritan maidens, Modest and simple and sweet, the very type of Priscilla ! So I will take them to her; to Priscilla the May-flower of Plymouth, Modest and simple and sweet, as a parting gift will I take them ; Breathing their silent farewells, as they fade and wither and perish, Soon to be thrown away as is the heart of the giver." So through the Plymouth woods John Alden went on his errand; Came to an open space, and saw the disk of the ocean, Sailless, sombre and cold with the comfortless breath of the east wind; Saw the new-built house, and people at work in a meadow; |