Though bright his eyes flashed 'neath the forehead's base,
They rather seem'd to smile than fiercely glare,
And the free dignity of Waban's race,

Seemed moving in his limbs and breathing from his face.

LXIV.

Williams the pledge of friendship now returned,
And courteous thanks to the red hunter gave;
"From the great spirit sure my brother learned
His brother's danger, when he came to save.”
"Waban," he answered, "from his lodge discerned,

A stranger's fire and heard the monsters rave-
Waban has long within these wilds sojourned;
But ne'er before has pale Awanux burned

LXV.

"His fire within this far sequestered glade.

Wanders my brother from his homeward way?
The storm is thick, he surely may have strayed-
Or has he hunted through the weary day
The rapid moose; or has he come to lay
The subtil snare beneath this lonely shade,
To trap the deer, or artfully essay

To catch the wilely beavers, who have made
Their cunning wigwams in the river's bed?

LXVI.

""Twere hard to tell my brother of the woods,

What cause has forced his pale-faced brother here, The red and white men have their different modes, And scant is Narraganset's tongue, I fear,

In fitting terms to teach my brother's ear,

The themes of strife among white multitudesThemes yet unknown within these forests drear, Where undisturbed ye worship various gods, And persecution leave to white abodes.

LXVII.

"Let it suffice, (for weary is the night,) That late across the mighty lake I came,

And sought protection here of brothers white,

From pale chiefs armed with chains or fagot's flame, Who dare to burn their brothers who delight,

The mighty spirit over all the same,

To worship in a mode they think is right,
Because from theirs that mode hath difference slight.

LXVIII.

My brethren here had persecution fled,

And much I hoped with them a home to find,
But to our common God whene'er we prayed,
My worship seemed ill-suited to their mind;
It differed greatly from their own they said;
Their anger kindled, and with speech unkind,
They drove me from my family and shed,
To rove an exile in this tempest dread.

LXIX.

And now my brother through the wilds I go,

To seek some far-some lone sequestered glen-
Where never shall the flame of fagot glow,
Kindled by wrath of persecuting men ;

Where all may worship, as their Gods they know,
Or lights the conscience the believer's ken,
Where ages after ages still may bow,

And from free hearts the free orisons flow.

LXX.

Waban a space mused on our founder's tale,

Silent he sate in meditative mood,

For much he wondered why his brothers pale,
For different worship sought their kindred's blood.
At last he deemed, they little understood,

That the great spirit was a father kind,

Or thought that Chepian* was perchance their God, Who to all deeds of goodness disinclined,

Joyed only in the fell and cruel mind.

*The name of the Indian's Devil.

LXXI.

Then blended pity with his wonder grew,
Here was the victim of that evil one,
Who from the demon's angry servants flew,
To seek a shelter in the forests lone.
"Brother," he said, "thy brother's mused upon
The tales thou tellest of thy kindred's ire,
And much it grieves him thou art forced to shun,
Thy well framed wigwam-thy familiar fire,
And sleep in wilds afar amid this tempest dire.

LXXII.

"Hear brother now what Waban has to say,

The night is cold and fast the snows descend— Here round thy sleep will howl the beasts of prey, And scarce the flames will thy repose defend; Will not my brother to my wigwam wend?

It smokes hard by, deep in the sheltered glen ; There may my brother this drear season spend, And shun the wrath of Chepian's angry men, Until Sowanui's breezes scatter flowers again.

LXXIII.

Right welcome to the red man's lodge shall be,
His pale-faced brother safe from Sachems pale ;
Waban's nausamp and venison shall be free,

When hunger craves, and when his store shall fail, His dart is true, and swift and far will he,

Pursue the bounding deer o' er hill and valeWhen melts the snow we may together raise, On Seekonk's banks, our common field of maize."

LXXIV.

Williams replied, my brother sure is kind,

But his red friends are doubtless with him here, And they may show my kindred left behind, To track my footsteps through the forest drearTo journey homeward I have little mind; My course is with the sun to wilds afar

There would I form, with leave of Sachems red,
A tribe which ne'er should stake or fagot dread."

LXXV.

"Alone is Waban," was the sad reply,

"His wife and child have to that country gone, Where go our spirits when our bodies die,

And left thy brother in his lodge alone: He goes by day to catch the beavers shy,

And sits by night in his still house to moan,

And much 'twould please him should the wanderer come, And tell him where the spirits have their home."

LXXVI.

Brother, I thank thee-thou art kind indeed,"
Our founder said—" and with thee I will go,
Would that my brethren of the christian creed,
Did half thy charity and goodness know!
Waban thou wilt thy brother's purpose speed,

And all the boundaries of those countries show,
Which lie around famed Narraganset's bay,
And name the chiefs that over them hold sway."

LXXVII.

"Waban can do it"-was the answer quick

And Williams followed as the hunter led;

With blazing brands they moved through boscage thick;
The wolves around them gathered as they sped;
But Waban often raised the mimic shriek

Of the fierce panther, and as oft they fled;
And now the ground, descending swiftly steep,
Told they approached the hunter's valley deep.

LXXVIII.

Then Williams noted, through the deepest night,
The sparkles rising from the roof unseen,
And, by the glancing of the fire-brand's light,

Above him marked the thickening branches skreen ;

For denser here, and of a loftier height,

Rose the broad cedar and the tapering pine;

Their still boughs bent beneath the burden hoar, And further off was heard the hollow tempest's roar.

LXXIX.

The undressed deer skin closed the entrance rude
Of the frail mansion of our founder's friend;
"Brother," said he, "this is my poor abode,
But thou art welcome-it will thee defend
From this cold storm," and as he spoke he showed
The open pass, and both did entering bend-
From 'mid the room the blazing fagots sent

The smoke and sparkles through the low roof's rent ;

LXXX.

And glancing around did for the ceiling show

The braided mat of many colors made, Veiled here and there, where hanging in a row, The beavers' hides their silvery coats displayed; And oft the antlers that once armed the brow

Of bounding buck, were round the room arrayed; And here and there the hunter's gear among The dusky haunches of his venison hung.

LXXXI.

Hard by the blazing hearth, raised from the ground
Three braided pallets, with their furs bespread,
Shewed where red Waban's family once found
The humble settle, and still humbler bed;

But now,

alas! within a narrower bound,

Two of the three on colder couches laid

The wampum girdle, that his spouse once wore,
Gleamed on her garb of furs the settle o'er.

LXXXII.

Warm was the room, and plenteous was the cheer
Which generous Waban did our founder bring;
In trays the nocake,* and the joints of deer,
And in the gourd-shell water from the spring;
And all the whilst he made our founder hear,

* A corruption of the Indian Nokehick-parched meal.