Nor land nor dwelling let us think to gain Until the greeting of Whatcheer! Whatcheer! Our journey stays, there, there is our abode ; Our anchor there, our Hope, Almighty God!” LXXI. Thus spoke our Sire, and now, with ready hand Alas! they knew not how and knew not where. The children from the glade, with cheerless air Revisited the cot. One more sad night, And thence they journey at the rising light. LXII. Upon the cottage roof the Whip-poor-will That night sang mournful to the conscious glade; The lonely owl forsook her valley still, And perched and hooted in the neighboring shade; The wolf returned, and lapped the purling rill, Sate on its marge, and at the cottage bayed; From all its howling depths the desert came, And seemed its lost dominion to reclaim. II CANTO NINTH. SCENES. Seekonk's Stream and Banks-Whatcheer Cove and Shore- 'Tis early morn; Pawtucket's torrent roar, Along with foaming haste, where they have rolled The basin broad, and there 'twixt hill and wold Furrowing their channel deep; far hastening on, Now lost in shades, now glimmering in the sun. II. No thraldom had they known save winter's frost ; III. Early that morn, beside the tranquil flood, Where ready trimmed rode Waban's frail canoe, Stole often down her cheeks; hers was the smart IV. And, as she viewed the illimitable shade, Against her children on their dangerous way; "Ye houseless babes!" in her wild grief she said, "What crimes were yours, what dire offences, say, That even ye should share this cruel doom, Beg of barbarians bread, and savage deserts roam ? " V. But Father Williams, to his lot resigned, Now rose to feelings of a loftier tone; His soul inspired did bolder visions own, VI. As the bold bird that builds her mansion high Deep in the desert, far from human eye, And deems herself secure from every foe, Aloft in overshadowing branches nigh, Perceives the wild-cat's threatening eye-balls glow, And spurns her eyry, with ascending flight VII. So his vain toils he coldly now surveyed; He had but sunk a bolder wing to try; He snatched the weepers from the hated glade, Then sprang into the stern, and cheerly bade The dusky pilot his deft paddle ply; While, shoved from shore, the settling skiff descends Low in the flood, and with the burden bends. VIII. Now with a giddy whirl the wheeling prow The mimic whirlpools pass on either side; Closed round the green and shut the roof from view. IX. Pawtucket's murmurs die upon their ears, As through the smooth expanse the swift canoe. Drives on; and now the straitened pass appears With jutting mounds that lofty forests shew; Each giant trunk a navy's timber rears; Their mighty shadows o'er the flood they threw, Shutting the heavens out, till glimmering day Could scarce the long, dark, winding path display. X. Deep silence reigned o'er all the sable tide, Or on fleet pinions through the branches soar; XI. Oft on the lofty banks, from jutting rocks XII. Far down the winding pass at length they spy For breezes from the hoary ocean cooled XIII. And now did Williams in his mind debate ; And scour the while Mooshausick's gloomy wood? "Oh, would that Heaven might there predestinate On earth, Soul-Liberty! thy first abode," (He often thought) "or where, in ocean's arms, Aquidnay smiles in her wild virgin charms." XIV. While thus he ponders, down the stream he sees, Where from th' encroaching cove the wood retires, Dark wreaths of smoke rise o'er the lofty trees, And deems that there some village wakes its fires. |