LXXIV. Charmed with the scene, our sire explored the place, And penetrated deep the thickets round; At length his vision opened on a space Level and broad, and stretching without bound Southward afar; nor rose o'er all its face A tree, or shrub, or rock, or swelling mound; Yet, in large herds dotting the snows, appear, With antic gambols, the far bounding deer; LXXV. And, further down, the Narraganset flood, Unfurrowed yet by keel — its fretted blue With isles begemmed, and skirted by the wood Of far Coweset, opens on his view; So long he had beneath the forest trod, That, when the prospect on his vision grew, His soul as from a prison seemed to fly And range in thought through an immensity. Raptured he paused. In yonder little glen, He'd rear his shelter LXXVI. Here then was Waban's mead; the fountain by, here his flocks should feed, Cropping the grass beneath the summer sky; There by his cot he'd sow the foodful seed, And round his garden raise a paling high; And there at twilight, should his herds be seen, Following the tinkling bell from pastures green. LXXVII. Ay, here, in fancy, did he almost see A lovely hamlet in the future blest, Where Christians all might mutually agree To leave their God to judge the human breast; A place of refuge whitherto might flee LXXVIII. He thought he saw the various spires ascending LXXIX. But still across his mind a shadow came A doubt that seemed a superstitious fear; For yet no Indian throng, with loud acclaim, Had bid the welcome of Whatcheer! Whatcheer! Till when he should be tossed; as did proclaim That nameless stranger that mysterious seer; But from Haup's Sachem he a grant will gain; Such were best welcome from that Sachem's train. LXXX. Full of this thought, he turned at close of day, And he could scarcely brook the short delay, Till Waban, coming from the white man's town, Should from Namasket, where the Sachem lay, The cheering welcome bring, or blasting frown; For thou, Soul-Liberty, couldst then no more Than build thy hopes on that rude sagamore. CANTO THIRD. [SCENES. The Wigwam-Massasoit and other Chiefs-The Wilderness-A Night in the Wilderness-The Narraganset or Coweset Country-Coweset Height.] No pain is keener to the ardent mind, Filled with sublime and glorious intents, Than when strict judgment checks the impulse blind, II. Two nights had passed, and, Waban lingering still, Suspicions in our Sire of waking wrath III. But on the morrow's morn, while Williams mused, Glided within it. To the sight unused Of Keenomp trimmed as for the battle fray, Williams, recoiling, gazed with fixed surprise On the fierce savage and his fearful guise. IV. The eagle's plumes waved round his hair of jet, Down from his shoulders hung his blanket red, Its edge of death was by his girdle stayed; Bright flashed his eyes, and, ready for the strife, Gleamed in his hand the dreadful scalping-knife. V. He placed a packet, bound, in Williams' hands, Which told her sorrows since their last adieu : VI. How came the messengers with armed men VII. But, as he reads, the warrior starting cries, "War! war! my brother." — Willliams drops his hand, And at the voice perceives, in altered guise Till now unknown, the generous Waban stand Erect and tall, with fiercely flashing eyes, The while he pressed the hatchet in its band; "Brother, there's war!" "With whom?" our Founder said; "Have I not friends among my brothers red?” VIII. "Haup's valiant Sachem is my brother's friend," 'Gainst Narraganset's hatchet stained with gore; Miantonomi lifts it o'er his head, Gives the loud whoop, and names our valiant dead.” IX. No time there was for Williams to reply Ere near the lodge there rose a trampling sound, And warriors entered, stained with every dye, Crested and plumed, with to their girdles bound The knife and hatchet; whilst the battle cry Burst from the crowds that flocked the lodge around, And lighted up, in every Keenomp's eye That stared within, a dreadful sympathy. X. Amid the train came Massasoit old, But not too old for direst battle fray; Strong was his arm as was his spirit bold; His judgment, bettered by experience gray, The wildest passions of his tribe controlled, And checked their fury in its headlong way; Still with the whites his peace he had maintained, The terror of whose aid his foes restrained. |