Paul Revere's Ride

(From the Atlantic Monlhlv.) Listen, my eliildren, and you slinll ho.ir Of tlie midnight ride of Paul Reveré, Zo th eightenth of April, in Seventy-Fivo Hardly a man is now nlive Who remembers thnt fumous day and yenr. Ele said toliia friend, - "if the British mareh By land or sea from the town to-night, Hang a lnntern aloft in the belfry arch Df theNorth Church-tower, as a sigual light, Oneif by land, and two if by sea; And I on the opposite shore will be, ïeftdy to ride and spread the alarm l'hrough every Middlesex village and fiirm, "or the country folk to be up and arin." Then he said good nighl, and with muffled oar Silently rowed to the Charlestown shore, rut as thu nioon rose over the bay, Fhere sWinging wide at lier moorings lay The Somerset, Britisli man of-war: A phantom ship, with eaeh mast and spar Across the moon, like a prison bar, And a huge black huil, that was mnguificd By its own reflection in the tide, Meanwhile.hisfriend.throughalley andstreet, Wainlcrs and walches with eager ears, Till in the silenee around him he hears The muster of men at the barraek door, The sound of arms, and the tramp of feet, And the measured tread of the grenadiers ilarcliiug down totheir boats ou the thore. Thenhe climbed to the towcr of thechurch, Up the wooden stairs, with stealthy tread, To the belfry-chamDer oerheard, And staried the pigeons from their perch On the somber rafters, that round him made llasses and moving ehapea of rhadc - Up the light ladder, slender and t all, To the highest window in the wall, Where he paused to listen and look down A moment on the roofs of the town, And the moonlight flowing over all. Benoath, in the chureh-ynrj, lay the dead In their night-encainpment on the hill, Wrapped in silence so deep and still, That he could hear, like a sentinol s tread, The watchtul right wind as it went Creepingalong from tent to tont, And seeming to wliisper, "All is well '." A moment only he feel8 the epell Ot the place and the hour the secret dreaJ Of the lonely belfry and the dead; For suddenly all his thoughte are bent On a shadowy lomething i'ar away, A here the river widons to meet the bay - A line of black, that bendsand floate On the nsing tide, like a bridge of boats. Meanwhile, impatúnt to mount and ride, Booted and spurred, with a heivy sride, On the opposite sliore walked Paul Kerere. Noiv he patted his liorse's side, Now gazed on the landscape farand near, Then impetuous stamped the eanh , Andturnedand tightened his saddle girth; But mostly he watched with eagei' search The belfry tower of the old North Church, As it rose above the graves on the hill, ■I onely, and spectral, and somber, aud still. And lo ! as he looks on the belfry's height, A ghnn:er, and then a gleam of light 1 He springs to the saddle, the bridle he tarot, But lingera and guzes, till full on his siglit A sccond lamp in the belfry burns ! A hurry of hoofs in the village strcet, A shape in the moonlig'at, a bulk in the dark, And beneath from the pebbles, in passing, a' spark Struck out by a steed that flies fearless and fleet ; That was all ! And yet, through the gloom and the liglit The fate of a uation was riding that night; And the spark struck out by that steed, 'in his flight, Kindled the land into flame with its heat . lt was twelve by the village clock, When he erossed the bridge into Medford town, Heheard the crowing of the cock, And the baiking of the farmer's dog, And ftlt ihe darup of the river fog, Thiit rises wheii the sun gocs down. It -was one by the villnge eloek, When he rode into Lexingtoa - He saw the gilded wealbeveock Swim in the moonlight as he passed, And the meeting house Windows, blank and b;ire, Gnze at him with a spectral glare, As if they already stood aghast At the bioody work they would look upon. It was two by the village doek, When he eame to the bridge in Concord town. He heard the bleating of the floek, And the twitter of birds among the trees, And feit the breath of the moriiing breeze Blowing over the meadows tirown. And one was safe and asleep in hia bei Who at the bridge would be first to fall, Wlio that day would be lying dead, Pierced by a British musket-baü. Tou know the rest. In the books you have read How the Britisli regulars fired and fled - How the farmers gave them ball for ball, From behind each fence and larm yard wall, Chasing the red-eosts down thelanc, Then crossing the fiolds to emerge again Uuderthe treea at the turn of the road, And only pausing to fire and load. So through the Dight rode Paul Reveré; And 60 hrough the night went his cry of alarm Toevery Middlestx viilage and farm - A cry of dtfiance, and not of fear - A voiee ia the darkness, a knock at the door, And a word tb at shall echo foreverrnore! For borue on the nightwind of the past, Through all our history to the last, In the hour of darkness, and peril and need, The people will waken and listen to hear The hurrying hoof beat of that steed. And the mid night message of Paul Reveré.