XXXII.

"Abandoned by his Priest his land now lies,

Left by that Priest's own slaves, for slaves had he Who tilled his field and made his mansion rise, Adorned with mats and colors fair to see; The Priest is gone, - how, nothing care the wise; His timid followers from their labors flee,

All fear within the fiend's control to stay;

For who but Chepian's Priest can Chepian sway?"

XXXIII.

So spake Canonicus, the wise and old,—

While shouts on shouts a full accordance shewed, Then turned and sought the late forsaken hold; Our Sire, the matron, and her charge pursued; The ready tribes, behind them forming, rolled

In march triumphant onward through the wood, Cheering the exile's home; and as they sped, Earth rumbled under their far-thundering tread.

XXXIV.

The forest branches, woven overhead,

Shut out the day and cast a twilight gloom;
For where long since extends the verdant mead,
Shines the fair palace, beauteous gardens bloom,

One vault of green o'er-roofed a palisade

Of trunks and brambles, boscage, brake and broom; Amid which chafed the warriors' surly mood,

And cracked and crashed the thickets as they trod.

XXXV.

They gained the height where now the Muses reign -
Where now Brown's bounty* to the human mind
Links earth and heaven; the fruit of honest gain
Moulding the youthful soul, by taste refined,

* Brown University.

To such high bounty, seems a meaner kind;

Thence, in the vale below, our Founder sees.

Where dark Mooshausick rolls, and seaward casts, Its waters, rolling under lofty trees

With crossing branches, thick as e'er the masts That shall, thereafter, on the wanton breeze

Display their banners, when, in sounding blasts, The cannon utters its triumphant voice,

And bids the land through all its States rejoice.

XXXVII.

And thence, with prescient eye, he gazes far
O'er the rude sites of palaces and shrines,
Where Grecian beauty to the buxom air

Shall rise resplendent in its shapely lines;
Ay, almost hears the future pavements jar
Beneath a people's wealth, and half divines
From thee, Soul-Liberty! what glories wait
Thy earliest altars - thy predestined State.

XXXVIII.

Then down the steep, by paths scored in its side, Where frequent deer had sought the floods below, He past, still following his dusky guide

And stooping often under drooping bough, To a broad cultured field, expanding wide

Betwixt dense thickets and Mooshausick's flow. Its deep green rows of waving maize foretold Abundant harvest from a fertile mould.

XXXIX.

The Priest's forsaken lodge rose thereamid,
Beside a fountain on a verdant lawn,
Spacious as some great Sachem's, and half-hid
In mantling vines wherewith it was o'ergrown;
And Williams thought of what his warrior did

On that dark bloody night, so direly known,Mourning the fate that caused the Sorcerer's doom; Yet sees its fruit, a temporary home.

XL.

But some last scruples still his mind assail;

For, ah! what rites had made the place profane ! When thus the chief : "No more my son bewail Thy comforts lost; let the Great Spirit reign Where Chepian reigned; ay, let thy God prevail;

Be thou His Priest, and this thine own domain; From wild Pawtucket to Pawtuxet's bounds To thee and thine be all the teeming grounds."

XLI.

High thanks Sire Williams paid; - but as he spake,
Came over him a feeling passing strange;
A prophet's rapture in his breast did wake;

For, at that moment, down the boundless range Of heavenly spheres did some bright being take Wing to his soul, and wrought to suited change The visual nerve, and straight in outward space Stood manifest in its celestial grace.*

XLII.

At once he cried, "I see! I see the seer!
His very form, his very shape and air!
By yonder fount; the same his robes appear;
The same his radiant eyes and flowing hair;

Mary! my children! come! his accents hear;

See age and youth one heavenly beauty share!" They with him moved, (yet ne'er the vision saw,) Until the father paused, transfixed in sacred awe.

XLIII.

For strange to tell, youth's lingering light began
To spread fresh glories o'er that aged face;
Till over beard, and hair, and visage wan,
Burst the full splendor of angelic grace;
A lambent flame about the forehead ran,

And rainbow hues the earthly robes displace;
The curling locks, like beams of living light,
Streamed back and glowed insufferably bright.

XLIV.

The figure seemed to grow; its dazzling eyes
Were for a while upon Sire Williams bent,
Then upward turned, and, looking to the skies,
Spake hope in God with silence eloquent.

Still did it brighten, still its stature rise,

With Heaven's own grandeur seeming to augment ;

The pilgrim staff no longer did it hold,

But on an Anchor leant that blazed ethereal gold.

XLV.

Our Father gazed, and, from that heavenward eye,
Beheld the clear angelic radiance flow;

And saw that figure, as it towered on high,
With inward glory fill, dilate and grow

Translucent, and then fade, -as from the sky

The sunset fådes or fades the radiant bow;

Until, dissolving in transparent air,

It disappeared and left no traces there.

XLVI.

Then low, on bended knees, he drops to own
The Heaven-born vision, and his soul declare;
His wife and children, near him kneeling down,
Send up their hearts upon the wings of prayer;
The dusky tribes, in crescent round them shown,
Give ear;
- hill, vale and forest listeners are;
Force to each word their faithful echoes lend,
And with their Ruler's prayers their own ascend.

XLVII.

"Mysterious Power! who dost in wonders speak,
We note thy tokens and their import spell;
Let Persecution still its vengeance wreak-

Let its fierce billows roll with mountain swell,
Here must we Anchor, and their force repel.
Here, more securely, shall our bannered State
Blazon the conscience sacred ever free ;

Here shall she breast the coming storms of fate

And ride triumphant o'er the raging sea,

Her well-cast Anchor here, her lasting Hope in Thee!

XLVIII.

"Here, thy assurance gives our wanderings rest,
And shows where all our future toils must be;
Lord! be our labors by thy mercies blest,
And send their fruits to far posterity;
Let our example still the Conscience free,
Where'er she is by tyrant force enchained,

And while the thraldom lasts, Oh! let her see
Her safety here, where, ever unprofaned
By persecution, her free altars are maintained.