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Let ages after ages take the boon,

And in religious freedom still be blest— Grant that I live until this task be done,

And then O Lord! receive me as thine own.”

LII.

Our father ceased, and with keen relish he
Refreshed his wearied frame in that lone dell;
Ah! little can his far posterity

Sense now the pleasures of that frugal meal;
For naught he knew of pampered luxury,

But toil and fast had done their office well, And not the dainties brought o'er India's sea, Or wrung from sweat of modern slavery,

LIII.

Are now so sweet as was his simple fare.

This banquet past, he would have sought repose;
But at the kindling blaze, heard wide and far
The howlings drear of forest monsters rose ;
And lured around him by the vivid glare,

Came darkling with light foot along the snows Whole packs of wolves, from their far mountain lair, And the fierce cat which scarce the blaze might scare.

LIV.

Growling they come, and in dark groups they stand, Show the white fang, and roll the bright'ning eye; Till urged by hunger seemed the shaggy band

Even the flame's bright terrors to defy

Then 'mid the group he hurled the blazing brand;
Swift they disperse and raise the scattered cry ;

But rallying, soon back to the siege they came,
And scarce their rage paused at the mounting flame.

LV.

Yet Williams deemed that persecution took,

A form in them less odious than in men;

He on their dreary solitude had broke—

Aye, and had trespassed on their native glen;

His human shape they scantly too might brook;
For it had been an enemy to them;
But fiend-like man did into conscience look,
And for the secret thought his brother struck.

LVI.

Oft he recruited now the sinking blaze-
His stock of fuel seemed too scant to last;
And, in the terror of the glittering rays,

Was now the anchor of his safety cast;
With utmost reach the boscage did he raze,

Or clipt the branches overhead that past;
And still the burning pyre at times did raise,
Or hurled the flame at the fierce monster's gaze.

LVII.

At length the groups a panick seemed to seize,
And soon he knew the terrifying cause;
For swelling slowly 'neath the arching trees,
Trilled the long whine the dreadful panther draws;
A sound that might the boldest bosom freeze-
'Twas followed by a drear and awful pause-
Naught marred the silence save the murmuring breeze,
And the far storm, like roar of distant seas.

LVIII.

Of all the monsters of the dreary wood,
None like the panther did the hunter fear;
For man and beast he fearlessly pursued-
Whilst others shunned he was allured by fire;
And Williams knew how perilous his mood,
And for the trying onset did prepare ;
Still by the rising blaze he firmly stood,
And every dangerous avenue he viewed.

LIX.

In God he trusted for deliverance

He thought of Daniel in the lion's den-
He waited silent for the fierce advance-
He heard the fagots break along the glen-

Another long-drawn yell and the fierce glance

Of two bright burning eye-balls looking then Out from the darkness, seemed e'en to enhance, The mortal terrors of the sure mischance.

LX.

But at this moment from the darkness broke A human voice in Narraganset's tongue; "Neemat!" (my brother) in kind tone it spoke, "How comes Awanux these drear wilds among?" And at the accents the dark thickets shook,

And from them lightly the red hunter sprung, And from his belt familiarly he took,

And fired his calumet, and curled its smoke.

LXI.

Then to our founder passed the simple cheer,
In sign of friendship to a wandering man,
"Let not," he said, "my brother quake with fear,
""Twas Waban's cry at which the monsters ran."
Williams received the pledge of faith sincere ;
Yet warily his guest began to scan.

Tall did his straight and active form appear,
And armed but with the hunter's simple gear.

LXII.

The bear's dark fur loose o'er his shoulders cast,
His hand did only at the breast confine,
The wampum wreath, which round his forehead past,
Did with the flames reflected brightness shine,

The beaver's girdle closely swathed his waist;

Its skirts hung low and trimm'd with 'broidery fine; The well formed ankles bound in deer-skin close, The melting snow-drops to the sight disclose.

LXIII.

Nature's kind feelings did his visage grace;
His gently arching brow was shorn all bare,
And the slight smile now vanished from his face,
Left the full trace of serious goodness there.

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Though bright his eyes flashed 'neath the forehead's base,
They rather seem'd to smile than fiercely glare,
And the free dignity of Waban's race,

Seemed moving in his limbs and breathing from his face.

LXIV.

Williams the pledge of friendship now returned,
And courteous thanks to the red hunter gave;
"From the great spirit sure my brother learned
His brother's danger, when he came to save.”
(6 Waban,"
," he answered, "from his lodge discerned,
A stranger's fire and heard the monsters rave-
Waban has long within these wilds sojourned;
But ne'er before has pale Awanux burned

LXV.

"His fire within this far sequestered glade.

Wanders my brother from his homeward way?
The storm is thick, he surely may have strayed-
Or has he hunted through the weary day
The rapid moose; or has he come to lay
The subtil snare beneath this lonely shade,
To trap the deer, or artfully essay

To catch the wilely beavers, who have made
Their cunning wigwams in the river's bed?

LXVI.

""Twere hard to tell my brother of the woods,

What cause has forced his pale-faced brother here, The red and white men have their different modes, And scant is Narraganset's tongue, I fear,

In fitting terms to teach my brother's ear,

The themes of strife among white multitudesThemes yet unknown within these forests drear, Where undisturbed ye worship various gods, And persecution leave to white abodes.

LXVII.

"Let it suffice, (for weary is the night,) That late across the mighty lake I came,

And sought protection here of brothers white,

From pale chiefs armed with chains or fagot's flame, Who dare to burn their brothers who delight,

The mighty spirit over all the same,

To worship in a mode they think is right,

Because from theirs that mode hath difference slight.

LXVIII.

My brethren here had persecution fled,

And much I hoped with them a home to find,
But to our common God whene'er we prayed,
My worship seemed ill-suited to their mind;
It differed greatly from their own they said;
Their anger kindled, and with speech unkind,
They drove me from my family and shed,
To rove an exile in this tempest dread.

LXIX.

And now my brother through the wilds I go,

To seek some far-some lone sequestered glenWhere never shall the flame of fagot glow,

Kindled by wrath of persecuting men;

Where all may worship, as their Gods they know,
Or lights the conscience the believer's ken,

Where ages after ages still may bow,

And from free hearts the free orisons flow.

LXX.

Waban a space mused on our founder's tale,

Silent he sate in meditative mood,

For much he wondered why his brothers pale,
For different worship sought their kindred's blood.
At last he deemed, they little understood,

That the great spirit was a father kind,

Or thought that Chepian* was perchance their God, Who to all deeds of goodness disinclined,

Joyed only in the fell and cruel mind.

*The name of the Indian's Devil.

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