THE SAILING OF THE MAYFLOWER by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow: Summary, Meaning & Analysis
This is Canto VI of Longfellow's narrative poem *The Courtship of Miles Standish*, depicting the Pilgrims of Plymouth on the morning the Mayflower prepares to return to England.
The poem
Just in the gray of the dawn, as the mists uprose from the meadows, There was a stir and a sound in the slumbering village of Plymouth; Clanging and clicking of arms, and the order imperative, "Forward!" Given in tone suppressed, a tramp of feet, and then silence. Figures ten, in the mist, marched slowly out of the village. Standish the stalwart it was, with eight of his valorous army, Led by their Indian guide, by Hobomok, friend of the white men, Northward marching to quell the sudden revolt of the savage. Giants they seemed in the mist, or the mighty men of King David; Giants in heart they were, who believed in God and the Bible,-- Ay, who believed in the smiting of Midianites and Philistines. Over them gleamed far off the crimson banners of morning; Under them loud on the sands, the serried billows, advancing, Fired along the line, and in regular order retreated. Many a mile had they marched, when at length the village of Plymouth Woke from its sleep, and arose, intent on its manifold labors. Sweet was the air and soft; and slowly the smoke from the chimneys Rose over roofs of thatch, and pointed steadily eastward; Men came forth from the doors, and paused and talked of the weather, Said that the wind had changed, and was blowing fair for the Mayflower; Talked of their Captain's departure, and all the dangers that menaced, He being gone, the town, and what should be done in his absence. Merrily sang the birds, and the tender voices of women Consecrated with hymns the common cares of the household. Out of the sea rose the sun, and the billows rejoiced at his coming; Beautiful were his feet on the purple tops of the mountains; Beautiful on the sails of the Mayflower riding at anchor, Battered and blackened and worn by all the storms of the winter. Loosely against her masts was hanging and flapping her canvas, Rent by so many gales, and patched by the hands of the sailors. Suddenly from her side, as the sun rose over the ocean, Darted a puff of smoke, and floated seaward; anon rang Loud over field and forest the cannon's roar, and the echoes Heard and repeated the sound, the signal-gun of departure! Ah! but with louder echoes replied the hearts of the people! Meekly, in voices subdued, the chapter was read from the Bible, Meekly the prayer was begun, but ended in fervent entreaty! Then from their houses in haste came forth the Pilgrims of Plymouth, Men and women and children, all hurrying down to the sea-shore, Eager, with tearful eyes, to say farewell to the Mayflower, Homeward bound o'er the sea, and leaving them here in the desert. Foremost among them was Alden. All night he had lain without slumber, Turning and tossing about in the heat and unrest of his fever. He had beheld Miles Standish, who came back late from the council, Stalking into the room, and heard him mutter and murmur, Sometimes it seemed a prayer, and sometimes it sounded like swearing. Once he had come to the bed, and stood there a moment in silence; Then he had turned away, and said: "I will not awake him; Let him sleep on, it is best; for what is the use of more talking!" Then he extinguished the light, and threw himself down on his pallet, Dressed as he was, and ready to start at the break of the morning,-- Covered himself with the cloak he had worn in his campaigns in Flanders,-- Slept as a soldier sleeps in his bivouac, ready for action. But with the dawn he arose; in the twilight Alden beheld him Put on his corselet of steel, and all the rest of his armor, Buckle about his waist his trusty blade of Damascus, Take from the corner his musket, and so stride out of the chamber. Often the heart of the youth had burned and yearned to embrace him, Often his lips had essayed to speak, imploring for pardon; All the old friendship came back, with its tender and grateful emotions; But his pride overmastered the nobler nature within him,-- Pride, and the sense of his wrong, and the burning fire of the insult. So he beheld his friend departing in anger, but spake not, Saw him go forth to danger, perhaps to death, and he spake not! Then he arose from his bed, and heard what the people were saying, Joined in the talk at the door, with Stephen and Richard and Gilbert, Joined in the morning prayer, and in the reading of Scripture, And, with the others, in haste went hurrying down to the sea-shore, Down to the Plymouth Rock, that had been to their feet as a door-step Into a world unknown,--the corner-stone of a nation! There with his boat was the Master, already a little impatient Lest he should lose the tide, or the wind might shift to the eastward, Square-built, hearty, and strong, with an odor of ocean about him, Speaking with this one and that, and cramming letters and parcels Into his pockets capacious, and messages mingled together Into his narrow brain, till at last he was wholly bewildered. Nearer the boat stood Alden, with one foot placed on the gunwale, One still firm on the rock, and talking at times with the sailors, Seated erect on the thwarts, all ready and eager for starting. He too was eager to go, and thus put an end to his anguish, Thinking to fly from despair, that swifter than keel is or canvas, Thinking to drown in the sea the ghost that would rise and pursue him. But as he gazed on the crowd, he beheld the form of Priscilla Standing dejected among them, unconscious of all that was passing. Fixed were her eyes upon his, as if she divined his intention, Fixed with a look so sad, so reproachful, imploring, and patient, That with a sudden revulsion his heart recoiled from its purpose, As from the verge of a crag, where one step more is destruction. Strange is the heart of man, with its quick, mysterious instincts! Strange is the life of man, and fatal or fated are moments, Whereupon turn, as on hinges, the gates of the wall adamantine! "Here I remain!" he exclaimed, as he looked at the heavens above him, Thanking the Lord whose breath had scattered the mist and the madness, Wherein, blind and lost, to death he was staggering headlong. "Yonder snow-white cloud, that floats in the ether above me, Seems like a hand that is pointing and beckoning over the ocean. There is another hand, that is not so spectral and ghost-like, Holding me, drawing me back, and clasping mine for protection. Float, O hand of cloud, and vanish away in the ether! Roll thyself up like a fist, to threaten and daunt me; I heed not Either your warning or menace, or any omen of evil! There is no land so sacred, no air so pure and so wholesome, As is the air she breathes, and the soil that is pressed by her footsteps. Here for her sake will I stay, and like an invisible presence Hover around her for ever, protecting, supporting her weakness; Yes! as my foot was the first that stepped on this rock at the landing, So, with the blessing of God, shall it be the last at the leaving!" Meanwhile the Master alert, but with dignified air and important, Scanning with watchful eye the tide and the wind and the weather, Walked about on the sands; and the people crowded around him Saying a few last words, and enforcing his careful remembrance. Then, taking each by the hand, as if he were grasping a tiller, Into the boat he sprang, and in haste shoved off to his vessel, Glad in his heart to get rid of all this worry and flurry, Glad to be gone from a land of sand and sickness and sorrow, Short allowance of victual, and plenty of nothing but Gospel! Lost in the sound of the oars was the last farewell of the Pilgrims. O strong hearts and true! not one went back in the Mayflower! No, not one looked back, who had set his hand to this ploughing! Soon were heard on board the shouts and songs of the sailors Heaving the windlass round, and hoisting the ponderous anchor. Then the yards were braced, and all sails set to the west-wind, Blowing steady and strong; and the Mayflower sailed from the harbor, Rounded the point of the Gurnet, and leaving far to the southward Island and cape of sand, and the Field of the First Encounter, Took the wind on her quarter, and stood for the open Atlantic, Borne on the send of the sea, and the swelling hearts of the Pilgrims. Long in silence they watched the receding sail of the vessel, Much endeared to them all, as something living and human; Then, as if filled with the spirit, and wrapt in a vision prophetic, Baring his hoary head, the excellent Elder of Plymouth Said, "Let us pray!" and they prayed, and thanked the Lord and took courage. Mournfully sobbed the waves at the base of the rock, and above them Bowed and whispered the wheat on the hill of death, and their kindred Seemed to awake in their graves, and to join in the prayer that they uttered. Sun-illumined and white, on the eastern verge of the ocean Gleamed the departing sail, like a marble slab in a graveyard; Buried beneath it lay for ever all hope of escaping. Lo! as they turned to depart, they saw the form of an Indian, Watching them from the hill; but while they spake with each other, Pointing with outstretched hands, and saying, "Look!" he had vanished. So they returned to their homes; but Alden lingered a little, Musing alone on the shore, and watching the wash of the billows Round the base of the rock, and the sparkle and flash of the sunshine, Like the spirit of God, moving visibly over the waters. VI
This is Canto VI of Longfellow's narrative poem *The Courtship of Miles Standish*, depicting the Pilgrims of Plymouth on the morning the Mayflower prepares to return to England. Miles Standish has gone off to war, and John Alden almost boards the ship to flee his heartbreak. However, a glance from Priscilla halts him in his tracks, and he decides to remain. The colony watches the ship fade from view, prays together, and confronts the reality that there's no turning back.
Line-by-line
Just in the gray of the dawn, as the mists uprose from the meadows, / There was a stir and a sound in the slumbering village of Plymouth;
Many a mile had they marched, when at length the village of Plymouth / Woke from its sleep, and arose, intent on its manifold labors.
Foremost among them was Alden. All night he had lain without slumber, / Turning and tossing about in the heat and unrest of his fever.
There with his boat was the Master, already a little impatient / Lest he should lose the tide, or the wind might shift to the eastward,
"Here I remain!" he exclaimed, as he looked at the heavens above him, / Thanking the Lord whose breath had scattered the mist and the madness,
Meanwhile the Master alert, but with dignified air and important, / Scanning with watchful eye the tide and the wind and the weather,
Soon were heard on board the shouts and songs of the sailors / Heaving the windlass round, and hoisting the ponderous anchor.
Long in silence they watched the receding sail of the vessel, / Much endeared to them all, as something living and human;
Tone & mood
The tone is ceremonial and mournful, fitting for describing something destined to be remembered. Longfellow maintains momentum with robust dactylic hexameter, creating a flowing, wave-like rhythm that complements the sea setting. The poem features moments of genuine tenderness (like Alden watching Priscilla), subtle humor (the captain's relief at leaving), and shared sorrow (the prayer on the shore). Beneath it all lies a quiet sense of wonder, as these ordinary people engage in an act that will resonate for centuries.
Symbols & metaphors
- Plymouth Rock — The rock serves as the connection between the Old World and the New. Alden positions himself with one foot on the rock and the other in the boat, symbolizing his choice between the past and the future. His declaration that his foot will be the first to touch it and the last to depart transforms a mere geological occurrence into a founding myth.
- The Mayflower's sail — As the ship fades from view, its white sail evokes a marble slab in a graveyard, symbolizing the end of any hope to return. The ship represented safety and home; seeing it leave feels like watching that door close for good.
- The cloud beckoning over the ocean — Alden spots a white cloud shaped like a hand pointing back toward England. It symbolizes the allure of the familiar, the comfort it brings, and the desire to flee from pain. However, he chooses to focus on the real hand—Priscilla's—that keeps him anchored to the shore.
- The signal cannon's smoke — The puff of smoke from the Mayflower's side marks the moment everything comes to life. It sparks the community's rush to the shore, creating the emotional peak of the canto. As the smoke drifts toward the sea, it reflects the ship, which will soon disappear in the same direction.
- The vanishing Indian on the hill — The quiet, vanishing Native American figure at the end serves as a haunting counterpoint to the Pilgrims' founding story. He observes for a moment, then disappears, reminding us that the colonists' "new world" and "cornerstone of a nation" is land that is already home to people and rich history.
- Light on the water — The final image shows sunlight sparkling on the waves, reminiscent of "the spirit of God, moving visibly over the waters," echoing Genesis 1:2. It presents the colony's survival as a new creation, emphasizing a beginning instead of an ending.
Historical context
Longfellow published *The Courtship of Miles Standish* in 1858, and it sold 10,000 copies on its first day in both Boston and London. This narrative epic is written in dactylic hexameter, a meter Longfellow took from Homer and Virgil. It recounts the story of real historical figures Miles Standish, John Alden, and Priscilla Mullins, who arrived on the Mayflower in 1620. Canto VI depicts the morning when the Mayflower returned to England, around spring 1621, after the Pilgrims endured their harsh first winter. Longfellow was writing during a time of significant national tension, with the Civil War looming just three years later. The poem's themes of commitment, sacrifice, and nation-building resonated strongly with contemporary readers. Additionally, being a direct descendant of John Alden and Priscilla Mullins adds a personal touch to the poem, something Longfellow openly embraced.
FAQ
On the surface, it seems straightforward: the Mayflower is heading back to England, and the Pilgrims are bidding farewell. However, the real tension lies in John Alden's choice to remain behind. He almost jumps on the ship to escape his heartache—he loves Priscilla, but so does his friend Standish—and it’s Priscilla’s quiet gaze that holds him back. The ship's departure signifies the moment the colonists realize they can't return to their old lives.
All three were real people. Miles Standish served as the military captain of Plymouth Colony. John Alden, a cooper (barrel-maker), arrived on the Mayflower and later became a significant figure among the colonists. Priscilla Mullins was a young woman who tragically lost her entire family during the first winter. Family tradition says that Standish asked Alden to court Priscilla for him, but Alden ended up falling for her himself, and she ultimately chose him. Longfellow is a direct descendant of Alden and Priscilla.
Alden is suffering emotionally. He loves Priscilla but played the role of Standish's messenger in his attempts to win her over, which she turned down. Now Standish is angry with him, their friendship has been shattered, and Alden is left feeling guilty and embarrassed. He believes that if he sails back to England, he can leave the pain behind. Longfellow describes this as "thinking to drown in the sea the ghost that would rise and pursue him," a striking way to express that you can't escape your own feelings.
It means that every Pilgrim who survived the first winter decided to remain in Plymouth instead of sailing back to safety. The Mayflower went back to England with its crew but without any passengers. Longfellow sees this as an incredible act of collective bravery, and the biblical reference ("not one looked back, who had set his hand to this ploughing") portrays it as a sacred promise.
Dactylic hexameter is the meter used in Homer's *Iliad* and *Odyssey* as well as Virgil's *Aeneid*. Each line consists of six rhythmic feet, with the main pattern being one stressed syllable followed by two unstressed ones (DUM-da-da). This creates a long, flowing rhythm that mirrors the ocean setting. Longfellow intentionally employed this meter to elevate the Pilgrims to the status of epic heroes, aligning them with figures like Achilles and Aeneas.
Hobomok was a real Wampanoag man who served as a close ally and interpreter for the Plymouth colonists. He leads Standish's soldiers north to address a reported uprising. Although his appearance at the beginning is brief, the silent Native American figure observing from the hill at the end of the canto adds a quiet, unsettling atmosphere to the entire scene of Pilgrim settlement.
Longfellow describes the white sail as gleaming "like a marble slab in a graveyard" and notes that "buried beneath it lay for ever all hope of escaping." This imagery is intentionally somber. The ship represented the colonists' final connection to England and the chance of returning home. Seeing it fade away feels like watching a door close over a grave. From this moment, Plymouth transforms from a temporary campsite into their permanent home.
Longfellow taps into the Plymouth Rock tradition, which by the 19th century had evolved into a strong national symbol, to imbue Alden's choice to stay with the essence of a founding myth. When Alden claims his foot was the first to touch the rock upon arrival and will be the last to leave, he isn't merely making a personal promise to Priscilla. He is asserting his lifelong connection to the New World and, by extension, to the nation that will emerge from it.