XLVI. To Haup's old chief a belt, with tinselry Enchased, he gave, and trimmed with gilded wire; Which when he donned, the warriors gazed in glee Upon their Sachem in such brave attire; Then filing singly, each in his degree, They leave the lodge, and through the woods retire; The chief appointing Haup, whereat to be To hear the issue of the embassy. XLVII. Waban and Williams only tarried there, And for the journey soon began to trim ; The red man doft his plumes, and loosed his hair, XLVIII. Waban went foremost, upon nimble feet, Through ancient grove and over woodland glade ; His long black hair and blanket red, so fleet He went, streamed backward in the breeze he made; Often his form did out of sight retreat Behind the crag – behind the thicket's shade And then his voice, along the echoing wood, Told when he paused, or where his way pursued. XLIX. At length upon Pawtucket's marge they stood; And frail the ice to bridge its dangerous flow; But on the bank a giant of the wood, A towering hemlock, waved its lofty bough; Waban his keen-edged hatchet promptly plied; It bowed, it fell, and bridged the sounding tide. L. Upstayed thereon from bank to bank they past, Till, as more doubtful grows their devious way. Their blankets on the frozen earth they cast, And light the fire, and wait the coming day; When safely they their journey may pursue, And greet the chiefs they seek in season due. LI. Williams that night lay on the snow-clad ground, LII. The red man smoked his pipe, or trimmed the fire, How always son inherited from sire The same fierce passions in like bosom bold; And wondered that his pale-faced chief could dare The pipe between such angry Sachems bear. LIII. "Ten summers since, on yonder margin green," He thus continued in a sadder tone, "A strong old hunter Keenomp he had been Of many deeds - dwelt with his daughter lone : She, like the bright-eyed fawn, whose beauteous mien So charms the hunter that he stands like stone; He, like the brawny stag, with burning eye And antlers broad, and sinews that defy LIV. "The well-aimed shaft. Then Waban was a boy; The Bright-Eyed Fawn. But ah! it chanced to him One morn to seek her at her home's employ — And, O! what havoc there! - what horrors grim! The old man lay in gore! - his daughter gone! His lodge in ashes! But the dewy lawn LV. "Showed prints of hostile feet. Waban is true He followed on the trail a devious route; Far up the winding stream the morning dew Betrayed their steps, and hers with theirs; here out They turned leaping from rock to rock, they drew Still onward far, until a thrilling shout, From far Woonsocket, died on Waban's ears : He pauses listens "The Pequot's yell! My Sachem sure has seen Waban is there; and, from behind a screen, Formed by the leaf of bush and bending bough, He saw the Bright-Eyed Fawn, bound to the stake The fagots heaped around-the flames awake! LVII. "Two warriors, standing, mock her cries, and four, One arrow Waban sent; - through shoulder bare LVIII. "Cleft down the second, who, with wild amaze, [Fawn But faintly fought; - straight from the Bright-Eyed The bands were cut, and from the rising blaze She springs unscathed. The slumberers on the lawn Were not forgot: they slept - they sleep — yet gaze (If gaze that be which is all sightless); dawn, Noon, and night, are one. Broad Antler's ghost Wandered not long upon Sowaniu's coast; LIX. "Fully avenged, he sought the spirit band Dwelt in his lodge, the mother of his son. All now are gone· - gone to the spirit land, And Waban's left all desolate and lone." Such tales the evening hours beguiled, and filled LX. They slept at last, though piercing cold the night, Gleamed in the east, -- when they resumed their way. Encrusted hard and flashing far and bright, The snow sent back the rising solar ray; Mooshausick's wave was bridged from shore to shore, And safe they passed the solid water o'er. LXI. Westward till now his course did Waban draw; LXII. Now down the western bank their course they speed, And fast doth Indian town to town succeed, Some large, some small, in populous array; And here and there was many an ample mead, Where green the maize had grown in summer's ray, And forth there poured, where'er they passed along, Of naked children many a gazing throng. LXIII. Their small sunk eyes, like sparks from burning coal, On the white stranger stared; but when they spied The Wampanoag, they began to roll With all the fury - mimicking the pride —— |