William Bradford Poetry

The Founding of Plymouth by William Bradford

When we came first, we were in number small,
Not much above a hundred, in all;
And in a number, we did here arrive,
And, by God's mercy, were all brought alive.
But when we came, here was no house nor town,
Nor certain place we knew, where to sit down,
Nor any friends, of whom we could expect
Us for to help, or any way direct.
Some forth were sent, to seek a place fitting,
Where we might harbor, and make our dwelling.
But in a place, where one cold night they lay,
They were assaulted, about break of day,
By these Indians, with great clamor loud,
Whose arrows fell, like to a dropping cloud.
Yet none were hurt, though some had clothes shot through;
But them repelled, from this their rendezvous,
And, with their musket, made them fly and run;
So that long after none at us would come.
But now sharp winter storms came us upon,
So here we made our habitation;
And till such time as we could houses get,
We were exposed to much cold and wet,
With such disease as our distempers bred;
So that within the space of three months' tide,
The full half of our weak company died;
And the condition of the rest was sad,
But the Lord compassion on them had,
And them again to health and strength restored,
And cheered them up; with courage as before,
And hath enabled them for to go on,
And, with comfort, the work to lead along.
And many of them still there be,
And some their children's children married see.
Famine once we had, wanting corn and bread;
But other things God gave us in the stead,
As fish and ground-nuts, to supply our meat,
That we might learn on providence to wait,
And know, by bread man lives not in his need,
But by each word that doth from God proceed.
But a while after, plenty did come in,
From His hand only, who doth pardon sin;
And all did flourish, like the pleasant green,
Which, in the joyful spring, is to be seen.[3]