Enthrone deceit, and place beneath its ban

The honest heart, that dares its sentence brave? Full well I trow the Prince of Darkness fits The blood of martyrs shed by hypocrites.

XXXVI.

"Hearken for once; just as the conscience pure

Is here God's presence to my wayward will Not to constrain it, but to kindly lure

It on by duty's path, from every ill;

So to the State the Christian Church, secure

From human thrall, should be a conscience, still Ne'er to constrain, save by that heavenly light Which bares the Wrong, and maketh plain the Right."

XXXVII.

"No more, friend Williams," said the Elder here,
"No more will we on this grave theme delay;
My hopes were high, and 'twas an object dear
To shed some light on thy benighted way;
But still wilt thou with sinful purpose steer
Thy little bark against the tempest's sway;
On mayst thou go I cannot say God speed!
But would thy object were some better deed.

XXXVIII.

"Couldst thou renounce thy purpose here to base A State where heretics may refuge find,

I do not doubt that to some little grace

The Plymouth rulers would be well inclined;

But as it is, perhaps some other place,

Still more remote, may better suit thy mind;

But till the morn as may a guest befit,
My message hither do I pretermit."

XXXIX.

Our Founder pondered on the Elder's word;
What could this dark portentous message be,
With its delivery until morn deferred,

Lest it should mar night's hospitality.

The wrath of Plymouth he had not incurred,
He with her Winslow was in amity;

Then what strange message had the Elder borne,
That utterance sought, and yet was hushed till morn!

XL.

This cause, mysterious, darkling, undefined,
Did by degrees each cheerful thought efface,
And poured portentous glooms along his mind,
That seemed reflected by each friendly face;
The matron sighed, and childhood disinclined
To mirth or sport, sought slumber's soft embrace,
And soon the gathered night did all dispose,
To shun their boding thoughts in dull repose.

Rise from scant slumber, and their guest they greet; "Williams," he said, "it is my thankless lot,

Thee with no pleasant message now to meet;

Nor hath our Winslow in his charge forgot
(For his behest I bear and words repeat)
His former friendship, but right loth is he
To vex his neighbors by obliging thee.

XLII.

"In short, thou art on Plymouth's own domain; Beyond the Seekonk is the forest free,

This must thou leave, but there thou mayst maintain Thy State unharmed, and still our neighbor be;

Fain had I spared thee this deep searching pain,
By showing thee thy dangerous heresy ;

It may not be; hence, therefore, must thou speed;
The Narragansets may protect thy ereed."

XLIII.

To breathless statues turned the listeners stood,
Silent as marble and as cold and pale;

With vacant gaze our Sire the Elder viewed,

O'erwhelmed, confounded by this sudden bale; As when some swain, deep in the sheltering wood, Ere he has seen the tempest on the gale,

Marks the bright flash; the smitten senses reel;
He stands confounded ere he learns to feel.

XLIV.

At length reviving from the stunning shock,
His thoughts returning in a broken train,
Our Founder thus the speechless stupor broke:
"I to my ancient friend may yet explain;
Just is my title here; the lands I took

Are part of Massasoit's wide domain,

And fairly purchased; mine they dearly are;
Make this but known, and Plymouth must forbear."

XLV.

"And didst thou think," the Elder cried, "to win Of Pagan chief a title here secure?

Why not derive it from that man of sin

At papal Rome, the Antichrist impure?
Our Church of Truth, against the Heathen thin,
Asserts her Canaan, and will make it sure.
Thy purchase feigned was by the Prophet shown
To Dudley, and by him to us made known."

XLVI.

"My purchase feigned!" our Founder quickly cried —
"God made that Pagan, and to Him He gave
Breath of this air, drink from yon crystal tide,
Food from these forest lawns and yonder wave:
Yea, He ordained this region, far and wide,

To be his home in life, in death his grave.
Is thy claim better? Canst thou trace thy right
From one superior to the God of might?"

XLVII.

The Elder answered: "Thinkest thou this land
For demons foul and their red votaries made?
Did not Jehovah, with his own right hand,
Tempest for Israel when the Heathen fled?
Does Plymouth's Church less in his favor stand?
Or spares he devils for the savage red?
As to our title, then, we trace it thus:

God gave James Stuart this, and James gave us."

XLVIII.

"God gave James Stuart this! our Founder cried,
Up-starting from his seat as he began,

"God gave James Stuart this!"-a choking tide
Of kindling feeling through his bosom ran,
To which his better part free speech denied,

Since all the Christian strove against the man,

And strove not all in vain; yet, bursting forth,
His soul came big with grief that stifled half her wrath.

XLIX.

"God gave James Stuart this! I marvel when!
Fain would I see the deed Omniscience wrote;
Elder! there are commandments counting ten,
Which Great Jehovah upon Sinai taught;

Has He of late exempted Plymouth's men

Reversed his justice and made sin no fault? Taught them to covet of their neighbor's store, And licensed robbery of the weak and poor?

L.

"Behold these hands, which labor has made hard, Look at this weather-beaten brow and face,

And ask yourself if to be thus debarred

And hunted from their fruits like beast of chase,
Demands not meekness more than God has spared
To human hearts in his abundant grace!
Followed e'en here! - Again compelled to flee!
As if this desert were too good for me!

LI.

"But I can go. — Oh, yes! I can submit ;
God in his mercy will give shelter still;
Go tell your Dudley in the book 'tis writ
That the oppressor shall hereafter feel;
Yet, gracious Lord, grant that repentance fit
Him to receive the everlasting seal
Of thy salvation - that his lost estate
Be yet revealed, ere it is all too late!

"Grieve not, my Mary!

LII.

Children, do not weep!

Though yonder verdant lawns, and opening flowers, And groves whose shades the murmuring streamlets sweep, All perish for us now, yet on far shores,

Perchance by yon blue bay or rolling deep,

Far from white brethren, mid barbarian powers, Your father's hands another glade may form, — Another roof to shield you from the storm."