His human shape they scantly too might brook, But bigot man to probe the conscience sought, LIII. Oft he recruited now the sinking blaze - Was now the anchor of his safety cast; Or clipt the branches overhead that past; And still the burning pyre at times would raise, Or hurl the firebrand at the monster's gaze. LIV. At length the groups a panic seemed to seize, 'Twas followed by a drear and awful pause; Naught marred the silence save the murmuring breeze, And the far storm, like roar of distant seas. LV. Of all the dangerous monsters of the wood, And braced his nerves to battle with his ire; LVI. In God he trusted for deliverance, - He heard the fagots break along the glen; LVII. But at this moment from the darkness broke A human voice, in Narraganset's tongue; "Neemat!" (my brother) in kind tone it spoke, "How comes Awanux these drear wilds among? And at the accents the dark thickets shook, And from them lightly the red hunter sprung, And from his belt familiarly he took And fired his calumet, and curled its smoke. LVIII. Then to our Founder passed the simple cheer, In sign of friendship to a wandering man, "Let not," he said, "my brother quake with fear, 'Twas Waban's cry at which the monsters ran.” Williams received the pledge of faith sincere; Yet warily his guest began to scan. Tall did his straight and active form appear, LIX. The bear's dark fur loose o'er his shoulders cast, The wampum wreath, which round his forehead past, Did with the flame's reflected brightness shine; The beaver's girdle closely swathed his waist; It's skirts hung low, all trimm'd with 'broidery fine; The well-formed ankles the close gaiters bound, With furs befringed, and starred with tinsel round. LX. Nature's kind feelings did his visage grace; His gently arching brow was shorn all bare, Seemed moving in his limbs and breathing from his face. LXI. Williams the pledge of friendship now returned, LXII. "His fire within this unfrequented glade. Wanders my brother from his homeward way? Seeks he to trap the deer, or make essay LXIII. ""Twere hard to tell my brother of the woods What cause has forced his pale-faced brother here, Strifes yet unknown within these forests drear, LXIV. "Let it suffice, (for weary is the night,) That late across the mighty lake I came, Seeking protection here of brethren white, [flame, From those pale chiefs who had, with scourge and Driven them as me o'er sea in dangerous flight; Our wrongs, as our offenses, were the same: God we had worshipped as to us seemed right, And roused the vengeance of our men of might. LXV. "My brethren then had persecution fled, And much I hoped with them a home to find; LXVI. "And now, my brother, through the wilds I go, Where burning fagot nevermore shall glow, Fired by the wrath of persecuting men; Where all may worship, as their gods they know, Or conscience lights and leads their varying ken ; Where ages after ages still may bow, And from free hearts free orisons may flow." LXVII. Waban a while mused on our Founder's tale, And silent sate in meditative mood; For much he wondered why his brothers pale To know the Great Spirit as a father good, LXVIII. Then pity blended with his wonder grew; "Brother," he said, "thy brother much doth rue LXIX. "Now, brother, hear, what Waban has to say: There may my brother this drear season spend, The name of the Indian devil. |