The pale-faced foes whom I have left behind,

Would still accept a favor done by me.

I trusted God would guard his servant's head,
Open all paths, and soothe my brothers red.

XI.

CANONICUS.

Thy generous confidence has on me won
And oped my ears, to other Yengees deaf.
Brother, the spirit of my son is gone-

I burned my lodge to speak my mighty grief; If thou art true I am not left alone,

Some comfort is there for the gray-haired chief; If to thy words the fitting deeds be done,

I am thy father, thou shalt be my son.

XII.

The kindest reader would fatigued complain,

Should I recount each question and reply, That passed between our Father and the train

Of barbarous warriors and their Sachems high; But though he languished o'er my humble strain, Till patience left or dullness closed his eye, To Williams it was not an idle song

The dull reality did days prolong.

XIII.

They had their Corbitants of surly mood,

Who scarce would yield obedience to their lord; Alike they thirsted for the Yengees' blood, And Wampanoag's and alike abhorred. By gaudy gifts their anger he subdued,

Or won their kindness by his soothing word; But one there was who spurned all proffers kind, Whose demon hate was to all goodness blind.

From his proud dwelling by Mooshausick's stream ; His was the voice of gods and omens dire,

And loud he chanted his prophetic dream;
"The white man's gods had set the woods on fire,
And Chepian vanished in its fearful gleam;

Their fathers' ghosts came from their hunting ground
Their children sought, and only ashes found."

XV.

Gravely attentive did the council hear

That crafty priest his awful omens sing.
The warriors, ruled by superstitious fear,

Half credence gave, and overawed the king.
In groups they thronged the forest, far and near,
With gathered brows and surly muttering;

And still the prophet through the kindling crowds,
Moved like a comet through night's lowering clouds.

XVI.

And as he passed, the varying rumors flew

Of secret plans hatched by the Yengees' hate;
And still their fears and doubts and wonder grew,
Whilst on that dream the chiefs prolonged debate ;
For priest he was and politician too,

And oft he meddled with affairs of state,
Wrought on the fears of superstition's crew,
And the best counsels of the wise o'erthrew.

XVII.

Thus, when the senate dared resist his sway,
He still gained triumph with the multitude
Till now the chiefs, half yielding to dismay,

Yet vexed and goaded by his rebel mood,

Bade that the clans assemble on a day,

And Williams meet the prophet of the wood,

And in their presence front and overthrow

His strange dominion, or all hope forego.

XVIII.

I will not say that devils did enlist

To do the bidding of the grim Pawaw; He may have been a wild ventriloquist,

Formed by rude nature; but the age which saw The marvels that he wrought, would aye insist His spells surpassed material nature's law; And that the monarch of the infernal shade Mustered his legions to the wizard's aid.

XIX.

Great was his fame; for wide the rumor went
That all the demons were at his command,
And fiends in rocks, and dens, and caverns pent,
Came to the beck of his black waving hand;
The boldest Keenomps, on resistance bent,

Could not the terror of his charms withstand; But still would shrink and shudder at the sound, When spoke his viewless fiends in anger round.

XX.

And it was rumored that he daily held

Communion strange with monsters of the wood, Harked to their voices, and their meanings spelled, And muttered answers which they understood; That he had filled with wisdom unexcelled,

A cherished serpent of the sesesk's brood,
Had taught his forky tongue to modulate
The voice of man, and speak impending fate.

XXI.

At length the morn of this stern trial rose,

And mustering towns poured forth their eager trains, From where wild Pawcatuck's dark water flows,

To where Pawtucket cleaves the sounding plains;
From where Aquidnay's blooming bosom throws
The ocean back, unto the far domains

Of the rude Nipnet, Narraganset's wood
Rendered in eager throngs the multitude.

XXII.

Swarm upon swarm, far dark'ning all the ground,

They gathered, and on Potowomet's plain,

The dusky rabble filled the borders round,

While near the centre stood the warrior train; [abound, Wild dance their plumes; fierce looks, fierce threats With war of voices like the murmuring main, Wherein these words continually prevail:

"The priest of Chepian grim ! —-Awanux weak and pale!"

XXIII.

The council formed upon the open glade;

The Sachems sate about the mounting blaze; Five thousand warriors round that senate made A dreadful ring, and stared with fixed amaze ; Within the senate, (so the chieftains bade,)

Apart sate Williams, obvious to their gaze; And off a little, but confronting him, Appeared the wizard in his hideous trim.

XXIV.

From crown to heel stained black as night he rose,
All naked save his waist and heaving chest ;

The sable fox-hide did his loins enclose,

The sable fox-tail formed the nodding crest

Above his inky locks, which, dangling loose,

Half veiled his cheeks, and reached unto his breast; Around that breast the same black fox's hair

Moved as he breathed, and seemed as growing there.

XXV.

Tall was his form, and in his dexter hand
He bore a barb with deadly venom fraught;
Whilst in his left, supported by a band,

He held a casket, where the rabble thought

A manittoo, awaiting his command,

Coiled in a serpent's folds; and there was nought
That in brave warriors could awaken fright,
Save his dire glance and fascinating might.

XXVI.

For, strange to tell! e'en on the human kind,
That serpent ventured his mysterious charm ;
And there were those who thought the subtle mind
Of Chepian's self inspired his winding form.
All sought his omens. He was aye enshrined,
Through winter's cold, in furs to keep him warm;
And never issued to the open light,

Till famine roused his rage, or prey provoked his might.

XXVII.

Thus, with strange terrors armed, the wizard stood,
And on the casket riveted his eyes,

And whispered for a while in ghastly mood,
Until responses from it seemed to rise
Faintly distinct, whereat the vulgar blood

Stayed its career, and even Sachems wise

Heard with a thrill, for these dread accents rose:

"Count ye the sands-ye count your pale-faced foes."