His eyes looked fire-another yell he raised ; Rebellowing forests shrieked from hill to hillThen, by the long dark lock swung from the ground, He whirled on high the ghastly ball around. LXIV. Around-around-still gathering force it went- Thrice bounding from the ground-then falling deadHe turned and spoke-" No more the babes shall weep! The grim Pawaw now sleeps! and Waban now can sleep," LXV. They passed the turf, as they the cavern sought, Where fell the body of his earliest slain, And Waban said, as paused he o'er the spot, "The black Priest's comrade never wakes again;" Then did he seize the body by the foot, And dragged the bleeding corpse along the plain, LXVI. Then the rude victor washed the stains away, Cast him on earth, and soon deep slumber shewed The horrid memory of that scene of blood; LXVII. The morning dawns, and they their march resume, The night came down and with its sober glooms, ་ Again they rose, and gained their joyous home On Seekonk's marge, just at the close of day; And him they blessed, who had in safety led Them through dire perils, to their humble shed. CANTO EIGHTH. Through Seekonk's groves the morning sun once more II. And Williams issued from his humble cot, Not as of late in solitary mood, With cheerless heart and ill-foreboding thought, But with light step, and breast of quietude, Attended by the partner of his lot, And their young Hopes; who with blithe interlude, III. In sooth the buoyance of his spirits spread More sunny smiled the lawn, and deeper frowned the shade. IV. They walked and talked-he told his trials o'er ; And oft his Mary brushed aside the tear, And oft they joined to thank kind Heaven once more, To infant mirth, which, in its silver tone, Soothed those rude wilds with music erst unknown. V. All, all was happy-was security In blest seclusion.-The rude storm seemed past, The bow of promise arched life's future sky, No threatening cloud their journey overcast― Bliss was around them-Heaven with gracious eye Looked down with smiles and blest their toils at last. Their Salem friends will soon the journey tryThey are not here is all that wakes a sigh. VI. Thus for a space did they anticipate The bliss which Heaven for pilgrims has in store, When their freed souls shall view their former state, And their past pains enhance their joys the more; But yet one fear of darkly frowning fate, Our founder's bosom slightly brooded o'er: No Indian throng, as spake that wonderous seer, VII. But this were idle-'twas perchance a dream; His thoughts seemed wandering, or disturbed at best, When stood, or seemed to stand in doubtful gleam, That form scarce earthly and his ears addressed; So let it pass-for it would ill beseem One staid and grave to be at all unblest, Whilst Heaven is showering mercies on his head, VIII. 'Waban," he said, a generous feast prepare- The good man's smiles may be a godly prayer; Mary, God feeds the tenants of the air; Mark how they thank Him with their voices glad ; The heart of man should nearer kindred own, Joy in his smiles, and sorrow in his frown." IX. Then forth paced Waban to the winding shore, And trap the partridge or the nimble hare; X. The whilst our Founder passed from place to place, And did each plan of village grandeur name; This rising mound the future church should grace, Yon little dell the village school should claim ; That sloping lawn the council hall should base, Where freemen's voices should the laws proclaim, And ne'er to bigot yield the civil rod, But save the Church by leaving her to God. XI. Thus past their hours-at last, from middle skies, The sun began his course of glory down; From Waban's ready feast the vapours rise ; The group is seated 'neath the beech's frown"Thou kind and generous man," our Founder cries, "Our brave defender! thy complexion brown Bars not thy presence-sit thou at the board, God made thy kind of these broad lands the lord. |