 | Legends of New-England |  |
PREFACE.
In the following pages I have attempted
to present in an interesting form some of
the popular traditions and legends of New-England.
The field is a new one—and I
have but partially explored it. New-England
is rich in traditionary lore—a thousand
associations of superstition and manly
daring and romantic adventure, are connected
with her green hills and her pleasant
rivers. I leave the task of rescuing
these associations from oblivion to some
more fortunate individual; and if this little
volume shall have the effect to induce
such an effort, I shall at least be satisfied,
whatever may be the judgment of the public
upon my own humble production.
I have in many instances alluded to the
superstition and bigotry of our ancestors—
the rare and bold race who laid the foundation
of this republic; but no one can accuse
me of having done injustice to their
memories. A son of New-England, and
cast dishonor upon its founders.—
My feelings in this respect, have already
been expressed, in language, which I shall
be pardoned I trust for introducing in this
place:
Where'e his wandering steps incline,
Forget the sky which bent above
His childhood like a dream of love—
The stream beneath the green hill flowing—
The broad-armed trees above it growing—
The clear breeze through the foliage blowing:—
Or, hear unmoved the taunt of scorn,
Breathed o'er the brave New-England born;
Or mark the stranger's Jaguar hand
Disturb the ashes of thy dead—
The buried glory of a land
Whose soil with noble blood is red,
And sanctified in every part,
Nor feel resentment, like a brand,
Unsheathing from his fiery heart!
An apology is even in worse taste than a
preface; but I would simply state that this
volume was written during the anxieties
and perplexing cares attendant upon the
management of a political and literary periodical.
| Legends of New-England | |