lirik lagu the courtship of miles standish - hal holbrook
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 sp~ce, 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;
heard, as he drew near the door, the musical voice of priscilla
singing the hundredth psalm, the grand old puritan anthem
music that luther sang to the sacred words of the psalmist
full of the breath of the lord, consoling and comforting many
then, as he opened the door, he beheld the form of the maiden
seated beside her wheel, and the carded wool like a snow~drift
piled at her knee, her white hands feeding the ravenous spindle
while with her foot on the treadle she guided the wheel in its motion
open wide on her lap lay the well~worn psalm~book of ainsworth
printed in amsterdam, the words and the music together
rough~hewn, angular notes, like stones in the wall of a churchyard
darkened and overhung by the running vine of the verses
such was the book from whose pages she sang the old puritan anthem
she, the puritan girl, in the solitude of the forest
making the humble house and the modest apparel of home~spun
beautiful with her beauty, and rich with the wealth of her being!
over him rushed, like a wind that is keen and cold and relentless
thoughts of what might have been, and the weight and woe of his errand;
all the dreams that had faded, and all the hopes that had vanished
all his life henceforth a dreary and tenantless mansion
haunted by vain regrets, and pallid, sorrowful faces
still he said to himself, and almost fiercely he said it
“let not him that putteth his hand to the plough look backwards;
though the ploughshare cut through the flowers of life to its fountains
though it pass o’er the graves of the dead and the hearths of the living
it is the will of the lord; and his mercy endureth for ever!”
so he entered the house: and the hum of the wheel and the singing
suddenly ceased; for priscilla, aroused by his step on the threshold
rose as he entered, and gave him her hand, in signal of welcome
saying, “i knew it was you, when i heard your step in the passage;
for i was thinking of you, as i sat there singing and spinning.”
awkward and dumb with delight, that a thought of him had been mingled
thus in the sacred psalm, that came from the heart of the maiden
silent before her he stood, and gave her the flowers for an answer
finding no words for his thought. he remembered that day in the winter
after the first great snow, when he broke a path from the village
reeling and plunging along through the drifts that encumbered the doorway
stamping the snow from his feet as he entered the house, and priscilla
laughed at his snowy locks, and gave him a seat by the fireside
grateful and pleased to know he had thought of her in the snow~storm
had he but spoken then! perhaps not in vain had he spoken;
now it was all too late; the golden moment had vanished!
so he stood there abashed, and gave her the flowers for an answer
then they sat down and talked of the birds and the beautiful spring~time
talked of their friends at home, and the mayflower that sailed on the morrow
“i have been thinking all day,” said gently the puritan maiden
“dreaming all night, and thinking all day, of the hedge~rows of england,—
they are in blossom now, and the country is all like a garden;
thinking of lanes and fields, and the song of the lark and the linnet
seeing the village street, and familiar faces of neighbors
going about as of old, and stopping to gossip together
and, at the end of the street, the village church, with the ivy
climbing the old gray tower, and the quiet graves in the churchyard
kind are the people i live with, and dear to me my religion;
still my heart is so sad, that i wish myself back in old england
you will say it is wrong, but i cannot help it: i almost
wish myself back in old england, i feel so lonely and wretched.”
thereupon answered the youth:—“indeed i do not condemn you;
stouter hearts than a woman’s have quailed in this terrible winter
yours is tender and trusting, and needs a stronger to lean on;
so i have come to you now, with an offer and proffer of marriage
made by a good man and true, miles standish the captain of plymouth!”
thus he delivered his message, the dexterous writer of letters,—
did not embellish the theme, nor array it in beautiful phrases
but came straight to the point, and blurted it out like a schoolboy;
even the captain himself could hardly have said it more bluntly
mute with amazement and sorrow, priscilla the puritan maiden
looked into alden’s face, her eyes dilated with wonder
feeling his words like a blow, that stunned her and rendered her speechless;
till at length she exclaimed, interrupting the ominous silence:
“if the great captain of plymouth is so very eager to wed me
why does he not come himself, and take the trouble to woo me?
if i am not worth the wooing, i surely am not worth the winning!”
then john alden began explaining and smoothing the matter
making it worse as he went, by saying the captain was busy,—
had no time for such things;—such things! the words grating harshly
fell on the ear of priscilla; and swift as a flash she made answer:
“has he no time for such things, as you call it, before he is married
would he be likely to find it, or make it, after the wedding?
that is the way with you men; you don’t understand us, you cannot
when you have made up your minds, after thinking of this one and that one
choosing, selecting, rejecting, comparing one with another
then you make known your desire, with abrupt and sudden avowal
and are offended and hurt, and indignant perhaps, that a woman
does not respond at once to a love that she never suspected
does not attain at a bound the height to which you have been climbing
this is not right nor just: for surely a woman’s affection
is not a thing to be asked for, and had for only the asking
when one is truly in love, one not only says it, but shows it
had he but waited awhile, had he only showed that he loved me
even this captain of yours—who knows?—at last might have won me
old and rough as he is; but now it never can happen.”
still john alden went on, unheeding the words of priscilla
urging the suit of his friend, explaining, persuading, expanding;
spoke of his courage and sk!ll, and of all his battles in flanders
how with the people of god he had chosen to suffer affliction
how, in return for his zeal, they had made him captain of plymouth;
he was a gentleman born, could trace his pedigree plainly
back to hugh standish of duxbury hall, in lancashire, england
who was the son of ralph, and the grandson of thurston de standish;
heir unto vast estates, of which he was basely defrauded
still bore the family arms, and had for his crest a c~ck argent
combed and wattled gules, and all the rest of the blazon
he was a man of honor, of n0ble and generous nature;
though he was rough, he was kindly; she knew how during the winter
he had attended the sick, with a hand as gentle as woman’s;
somewhat hasty and hot, he could not deny it, and headstrong
stern as a soldier might be, but hearty, and placable always
not to be laughed at and scorned, because he was little of stature;
for he was great of heart, magnanimous, courtly, courageous;
any woman in plymouth, nay, any woman in england
might be happy and proud to be called the wife of miles standish!
but as he warmed and glowed, in his simple and eloquent language
quite forgetful of self, and full of the praise of his rival
archly the maiden smiled, and, with eyes over~running with laughter
said, in a tremulous voice, “why don’t you speak for yourself, john?”
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