LXXI. Then blended pity with his wonder grew, 'Brother," he said, "thy brother's mused upon And much it grieves him thou art forced to shun, LXXII. "Hear brother now what Waban has to say, The night is cold and fast the snows descendHere round thy sleep will howl the beasts of prey, And scarce the flames will thy repose defend; Will not my brother to my wigwam wend? It smokes hard by, deep in the sheltered glen ; There may my brother this drear season spend, And shun the wrath of Chepian's angry men, Until Sowanui's breezes scatter flowers again. LXXIII. Right welcome to the red man's lodge shall be, When hunger craves, and when his store shall fail, His dart is true, and swift and far will he, Pursue the bounding deer o' er hill and vale— When melts the snow we may together raise, On Seekonk's banks, our common field of maize." LXXIV. Williams replied, " my brother sure is kind, But his red friends are doubtless with him here, And they may show my kindred left behind, To track my footsteps through the forest drearTo journey homeward I have little mind; My course is with the sun to wilds afar— There would I form, with leave of Sachems red, A tribe which ne'er should stake or fagot dread." LXXV. "Alone is Waban," was the sad reply, "His wife and child have to that country gone, Where go our spirits when our bodies die, And left thy brother in his lodge alone: He goes by day to catch the beavers shy, And sits by night in his still house to moan, And much 'twould please him should the wanderer come, And tell him where the spirits have their home." LXXVI. "Brother, I thank thee-thou art kind indeed," And all the boundaries of those countries show, LXXVII. "Waban can do it"-was the answer quick And Williams followed as the hunter led; With blazing brands they moved through boscage thick; Of the fierce panther, and as oft they fled; LXXVIII. Then Williams noted, through the deepest night, Above him marked the thickening branches skreen; For denser here, and of a loftier height, Rose the broad cedar and the tapering pine; Their still boughs bent beneath the burden hoar, And further off was heard the hollow tempest's roar. LXXIX. The undressed deer skin closed the entrance rude But thou art welcome-it will thee defend The smoke and sparkles through the low roof's rent; LXXX. And glancing around did for the ceiling show The braided mat of many colors made, Veiled here and there, where hanging in a row, The beavers' hides their silvery coats displayed; And oft the antlers that once armed the brow Of bounding buck, were round the room arrayed; And here and there the hunter's gear among The dusky haunches of his venison hung. LXXXI. Hard by the blazing hearth, raised from the ground Two of the three on colder couches laid- LXXXII. Warm was the room, and plenteous was the cheer Which generous Waban did our founder bring; In trays the nocake,* and the joints of deer, And in the gourd-shell water from the spring; And all the whilst he made our founder hear, * A corruption of the Indian Nokehick-parched meal. 'How he had pierced the wild duck on the wing ; How westward lately he the moose pursued, Until he struck him far in lone Mooshausick's wood. LXXXIII. Slightly our founder tasted the plain fare, For toil and chill far more than hunger prest, This Waban noted and with tender care, The vacant pallet shewed, and urged him rest ; Waban he said would still the fire repair, And comfortable keep his pale-faced guest, "And may the Manitto of dreams," he said, "The happiest visions on thy slumbers shed. LXXXIV. 'Upon this pallet once was wont to lay Her active form, whose spirit now is gone; And may that spirit to thy visions say Where now she dwells, and where my little son; Whether on that bleşt island far away* O'er the blue hills beyond the setting sun, They with their kindred joy, or nearer home, They wait until the sire and husband come." LXXXV. Williams replied, that he would speak at morn, Of that far journey which the spirit takes; And name the guide, who never soul forlorn, Whilst passing through death's gloomy night, forsakes. His brother then, on fitting day in turn, Would name the bounds, by rivers, bays and lakes, LXXXVI. Our founder slept; and on that night I ween, Calm were its dreams as was his breast serene Such sleep can persecutors never know; He slept, until the dawning light was seen Down through the dome to glance upon his brow; Then Waban woke him to his simple cheer * Of the pure fount, nausamp, and savory deer. *The word samp is a corruption of the Indian word nausamp, and has the same meaning. |