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CANTO NINTH.

'Tis early morn-Pawtucket's torrent roar,
A solemn bass to Nature's anthem bold,
Alone wakes Williams' ear.-Its currents pour
Along with foaming haste, where they have rolled
Ages on ages-fretting, here from shore,

The basin broad, and there 'twixt hill and wold,
Furrowing their channel deep-far hastening on-
Now lost in shades-now glimmering in the sun.

II.

No thraldom had they known, save winter's frost ;
No exile yet had their free bosom borne ;
Deep in that glade, (now to our Founder lost)
Their wave eternal had a basin worn;

Oft thence their flow had borne the stealthy host,
In light canoes, before the dusk of morn,

Darkling to strike the foe-But now no more,

They blush to bear the freight of men that thirst for gore.

III.

Early that morn, beside the tranquil flood,

Where ready trimmed rode Waban's frail canoe,
The banished man, his spouse and children stood,
And bade their lately blooming hopes àdieu.
As yet the mother had but half subdued
Despondent sorrow, and the briny dew

Stole frequent down her cheeks-Hers was the smart-
The searching anguish of the softer heart.

IV.

And as she viewed the illimitable shade,

The haunt of savage men and beasts of prey,
Thought of her children, and what fears arrayed,
Their, haply, long uncomfortable way;
"Ye houseless babes !" she in her anguish said,

"What crimes were yours, what dire offences, say,
That, even ye, should share this cruel doom,
Beg of barbarians bread, and savage deserts roam ?"

V.

But, father Williams to his lot resigned,
Now cherished feelings of a loftier tone;
Heaven to vigour had restored his mind,
And firmly armed it for the task unknown;
He scantly glanced upon his toils behind;

His soul inspired did bolder visions own,
And from his breast dispelled each cheerless gloom,
And winged him onward to his destined home.

VI.

As the bold bird that builds her mansion high,
On some tall crag, or hemlock's lofty bough,
Deep in the desert, far from human eye,

And deems herself secure from every foe,
Does, in a pine's o'ershadowing branch, descry
The threatening eye-balls of the wild cat glow-
She spurns her eyry with a heaven-ward flight,

And builds upon some ash that crests the mountain's height.

VII.

Thus his vain toils he coldly now surveyed;
He'd sunk, but 'twas a bolder wing to try;
He snatched the weepers from the hated glade,
And bore them lightly to the shallop nigh;
Then

sprang himself into the stern, and bade The dusky pilot now his paddle ply;

Shoved from the bank the settling skiff descends
Low in the flood, and 'neath the burden bends.

VIII.

Now, with a giddy whirl, the wheeling prow,
Veering around, looks on the downward tide;
Then Waban's paddle pierced the glassy flow;
The mimic whirlpools past on either side;
The surface cleaves-the waters boil below,

The cot-the glade—the forests backward glide;
Until the shadows, moving as they flew,

Closed round the green, and shut the roof from view.

IX.

Pawtucket's murmurs die upon their ears,

As cleaves the expanded sheet the swift canoe ; And now the river's straightened pass appears, And jutting mounds their lofty forests shew; Each giant trunk a navy's timber rears—

Their mighty shadows o'er the flood they threw, Shut out the Heavens, and scarce could glimmering day, The long, dark, hollow, winding path display.

X.

Stern silence reigned o'er all the sable tide,

Broke only by the swarthy pilot's oar;

Beneath the arching boughs the wanderers glide,
And the dark riplings curl from shore to shore;
The startled wood-ducks 'neath the waters hide,
Or on fleet pinions through the branches soar;
Whilst overhead the rattling boughs, at times,
Speak where the streaked rackoon, or furious wild-cat
climbs.

XI.

Oft, on the lofty banks from jutting rocks,

The buck looked down wild on the swift canoe ;

Oft o'er the bramble leaped the wary fox

With bushy tail, and fur of ruddy hue;

Or wheeling high, and gathering still in flocks,

The dark-winged ravens, by their clamors, shew Where the lone owl, perched on his moss-grown seat, Insists, unvanquished yet, upon his drear retreat.

XII.

Far down the winding pass at length they spy,
Where wider currents, bright as liquid gold,
Spread glimmering in the sun-and, to the eye
Still further down, broad Narraganset rolled
His host of waters blue-blue as the sky;

For breezes from the hoary ocean cooled
His heaving breast, and joying in their glance,
From shore to shore, the wanton waters dance.

XIII.

And now did Williams in his mind debate,

Should he that night cleave Narraganset's flood, Or on the Seekonk's bank till morning wait,

And scour the whilst Mooshausick's gloomy wood; "Would that kind Heaven might there predestinate, Religious Freedom! thy desired abode ;"

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(He often thought) or where in ocean's arms, Smiles wild Aquidnay, robed in virgin charms."

XIV.

Whilst thus he ponders, down the stream he sees,
Where from the invading cove the wood retires,
Dark wreaths of smoke curl o'er the lofty trees,
And deems that there some village wakes its fires.
Waban," he says, 66
seest thou yon dusky breeze?

Say, from what town yon curling smoke aspires?

What valiant sachem holds dominion there?

What dreadful numbers leads he forth to war?"

XV.

"No town!-the feast of peace!"-the red man cried, As still his swarthy arm impelled the oar; "The clans from Narraganset far and wide, And every tribe from Pokanoket's shore,

There smoke the pipe, and lay the axe aside,

The pipe which thou to Potowomet bore ; Much they rejoice-their ancient hate forego, And deem my white chief a good Manittoo."

XVI.

A secret joy o'er father Williams' breast,

Stole like the fragrance of the balmy morn,
That breathes on sleep with fearful dreams opprest,
And wakes to its delights the wretch forlorn;
His toils and wanderings were not all unblest,
Some joys to others had his sufferings borne;
But promised good brings doubt to the distrest,
And thus with queries he his guide addressed.

XVII,

"What singing bird has, on the wandering wing,

Borne these strange tidings to my hunter's ear? Where on her pinions poised, thus did she sing, And with her faithless song his bosom cheer ?" Waban replied, whilst he was journeying

Toward the white man's town, through forests drear, He on Cohannet's banks his brethren met,

Bound to the banquet of the calumet.

XVIII.

Now murmurs hoarse came on our Founder's ear,
That rose behind a cape from crowds unseen,
Then by the eastern marge their skiff they steer,
Till showed a tufted isle its welcome screen;
Veering to this, they found a prospect near

Of the red hosts that thronged the opposing green;
Hundreds on hundreds did their fires surround,
Ran on the shores, or verdant banks embrowned.

XIX.

Along the strand their speed the racers try,

Their flying feet scarce seem to touch the ground;

From goal to goal the nimble hunters fly;

Crowds shout above them, and the woods resound ;

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