But all appareled as in days of old, With ermined mantle and with cloth of gold; THE REVOLUTIONARY RISING THOMAS BUCHANNAN READ The hero of Read's poem was John Peter Gabriel Muhlenberg, a native of Pennsylvania, born, 1746, died, 1807. "He went to school at Halle, from which he ran away, and passed a year as a private in the dragoons. Returning to America, 1766, he studied for the Lutheran ministry; was called to Virginia, 1771; to have a legal standing there as a clergyman, went to England, 1772, and was ordained by the bishop of London; in the same year was settled at Woodstock, Virginia. Soon after the beginning of the revolutionary war, he told his congregation that there was a time to preach and a time to fight, and at the close of the services, he tore off his gown, showing himself in full uniform, and read from the pulpit his commission as colonel. He had the drummers strike up for volunteers, and many of his congregation volunteered and joined his regiment, the 8th Virginia, popularly known as the German regiment, afterwards noted for its courage and good discipline." -International Cyclopaedia. Out of the North the wild news came, Far flashing on its wings of flame, At midnight through the startled skies. And there was tumult in the air, The fife's shrill note, the drum's loud beat, And through the wide land everywhere The answering tread of hurrying feet; Within its shade of elm and oak The church of Berkley Manor stood; There Sunday found the rural folk, And some esteemed of gentle blood. In vain their feet with loitering tread Passed mid the graves where rank is naught; All could not read the lesson taught In that republic of the dead. How sweet the hour of Sabbath talk, The vale with peace and sunshine full, Where all the happy people walk, Decked in their homespun flax and wool! Where youth's gay hats with blossoms bloom; And every maid, with simple art, Wears on her breast, like her own heart, A bud whose depths are all perfume; The pastor came; his snowy locks Hallowed his brow of thought and care; And calmly, as shepherds lead their flocks, Then soon he rose; the prayer was strong; Then from his patriot tongue of flame Even as he spoke, his frame, renewed Rose, as it seemed, a shoulder higher; A moment there was awful pause, When Berkley cried, "Cease, traitor! cease! God's temple is the house of peace!" The other shouted, "Nay, not so; And now before the open door The warrior priest had ordered so— "Who dares?"-this was the patriot's cry, For her to live, for her to die?" A hundred voices answered, "I!" I saw in the naked forest our scattered remnant castA screen of shivering branches between them and the blast; The snow was falling round them, the dying fell as fast; I looked to see them perish, when lo! the vision passed. Again mine eyes were opened-the feeble had waxed strong; The babes had grown to sturdy men, the remnant was a throng. By shadowed lake and winding stream, and all the shores along, The howling demons quaked to hear the Christian's godly song. They slept—the village fathers-by river, lake and shore, When far adown the steep of Time the vision rose once more: |