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,

And cleansed his visage of its colors grim ;
Our Founder chose his Indian gifts to bear,

And pipe of peace, as well becoming him ;
And forth they sallied, as from middle sky
The sun looked down between the branches high.

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 ;

They heard the thunder of his falls below; Though narrow was the pass, yet deep the flood,

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,

And now they travel under hostile sway: The night around them gathers thick and fast,

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,

With nothing o'er him but the starry blue ;
In parchéd maize and water pure he found

A sweet repast, that woke devotion true;
For while he saw the soul constrained and bound,

With wings enthralled, but not her eagle view,
One pious prayer made every suffering light, —
That he might free and speed her heavenward flight.

LII.

The red man smoked his pipe, or trimmed the fire,

And to our Father many a story told
Of barbarous battles and of slaughter dire

That on Pawtucket's marge befell of old ;
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 ;

And, lonely, loved to go, by moonlight dim Or dewy morn, to see, all life and joy,

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 :

listens — and again he hears

He pauses

LVI.

“ The Pequot's yell! My Sachem sure has seen

The well-drawn arrow leave the red man's bow ; So Waban went the steps he made between

Him and his foes no memory left — e’en now

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,

In the fire-water drenched, lie here and there In slumber deep, from which they woke no more.

One arrow Waban sent ; through shoulder bare Transfixed, one scoffer fell, and quenched in gore

His kindling brand. Then, sprnging from his lair, As panther springs, with the bright glancing knife Did Waban dart, and, hand to hand in strife,

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

Of his brave fathers, whilst the daughter, won By Waban from the cruel Pequot's hand,

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
With breathless zest, or with blank horror chilled.

LX.

They slept at last, though piercing cold the night,

And round them howled the hungry beasts of prey ; Nor broke their slumber, till the dawning light

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 ;

He shunned Weybosset, the accustomed ford, Where dwelt dark Chepian's priest, that grim Pawaw,

Who well he knew the Yengee's faith abhorred,
And who, perchance, if he our Founder saw

Bearing the pipe of peace, might ill accord
With such kind purpose, and, on evil wing
To Narraganset's host strange omens bring.

LXII,

Now down the western bank their course they speed,

Passing Pawtuxet in their onward way; And fast doth Indian town to town succe

cceed, 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 coad,

On the white stranger stared ; but when they spied The Wampanoag, they began to roll

With all the fury -- mimicking the pride -