XX.

"Then he the oak, of fibre hard and fine,

With the first red man's soul and form indued, And made he woman of the tapering pine,

That blooming 'neath its sheltering branches stood ; She on the red man's bosom did recline,

Like the bright rainbow on the thunder-cloud.
And the Great Spirit saw his work divine,
And on the first red pair shed smiles benign.

XXI.

"He gave them all these forests far and near, The forms that fly, and those that creeping go, The healthful fountains, and the rivers clear,

And all the fish that sport their waves below; Then gave he man the swiftness of the deer,

And armed his hands with arrows and the bow And bade him shelter still his consort dear,

And tread his far domain without a peer.

XXII.

"Then did he send Yotaanit on high,

(For Gods he fashioned as he formed the land,) And bade him star with fires the azure sky,

And kindle the round blaze of Keesuckquand; And then, to cheer by night the hunter's eye, Bright Nanapaushat sprung from Wamponand, Thus with his will the manittoos comply,

And every region knows its deity.*

XXIII.

"All things were formed thus from materials good, And what had been refused was foul and bad, But it had felt the influence of the God,

(How should it not?) and a black demon, sad, Cruel and stern, and loving strife and blood, Filled with all hatred, and with fury mad,

*See note.

Sprang into life—such was fell Chepian's birth,
The hate of gods, and terror of the earth.

XXIV.

"Then to the south-west the Great Spirit flew,
Whence the soft breezes of the summer come,
And from the depths Sowaniu's island drew,*
And bade its fields with lasting verdure bloom.
O'er it he bent another welkin blue,

Which never night, or clouds, or tempests gloom,
And kindled suns the lofty arches through,
And bade them shine with glory ever new.

XXV.

"When great Cawtantowit thus had finished all,
No more did he on eagle's pinions roam;
There found his weary wing its final goal,
And there established he his lasting home;
There did he cast the eagle, and recall

His pristine glory, and his shape resume;
There still he dwells, the all-pervading soul
Of men and manittoos-yea, of creation's whole.

XXVI.

"All that is good does from Cawtantowit flow,
All that is bad does Chepian fell supply;
Praying for good we to Cawtantowit bow,
And shunning evil we to Chepian cry,
To other manittoos we offerings owe,

Dwell they in mountain, flood, or lofty sky;
And oft they aid us when we hunting go,
Or in fierce battle rushing on the foe.

XXVII.

"And manittoos, that never death shall fear,

Do too within this mortal body rest;

What else my brother is it beating here?

What prompts these thoughts-what moves this heaving breast?

*Sowaniu-used here as a word of three syllables, was written by R. Williams, "Sowwainiu.'

Whilst like Cawtantowit does the soul appear,
Pervading all-of ruling power possessed;
And when her mortal mansion here decays,
She to Sowaniu's blessed island strays.

XXVIII.

"There aye to joy; if, whilst she dwelt with men,
She wisely counselled, and did bravely fight,
Or watchful caught the beavers in the glen,
Or nimbly followed the far moose's flight;
But if a sluggard and a coward, then

To rove all wretched in the glooms of night, Misled by Chepian, a poor wandering ghost, 'Mong swamps, dens, fens, brakes, bogs and brambles lost.

XXIX.

"And now my brother rightly worship we,

When to Cawtantowit mounts our zealous prayer, Or when of Chepian we, right earnestly,

Entreat that us from ways of harm he spare? The harm he has, is all his own we see,

And good Cawtantowit has not e'en a share ; Why should I not beseech that Chepian be, Much sparing of his harm to mine and me?"

Williams replied, "When the red warriors brave
The fight's dark tempest, and for glory die,
Trembles my brother whilst the battles rave,

And at the glancing arrows winks his eye?
And does he, crouching, a base recreant, crave
The hatchet's mercy o'er him lifted high?
Who prays to Chepian is a trembling slave,
And dying fills at last a coward's grave."

XXXI.

Strongly these words to Waban's pride appealed,
Yet back upon him did the memory rush,
Of by-gone ages, and of many a field,

Where fought his fathers, who with victory flush,
Not to Cawtantowit, but to Chepian kneeled

And thanked his aid-They cowards! and the blush That in their worship should seem fear revealed, Was scantly by his tawny hue concealed.

XXXII.

At last he said, "my brother doubtless knows,--
He has a book which his Great Spirit wrote;
Brave were my fathers, yet did they repose

With hope in Chepian, and his aid besought
When marched they forth to shed the blood of foes;
But they perhaps, like Waban, never thought
That they were cowards, when they fiercely prayed
Chepian to give the work of vengeance aid.

XXXIII.

Waban will think, and should it seem like fear-
Waban near shrunk when round him battle roared,
And at the stake when bound his torturers near,

Among the clouds thy brother's spirit soared,
And scorned her foes-but should it seem like fear,
To worship Chepian whom his sires adored,
No more will he be that dread demon's slave,
For ne'er will Waban fill a coward's grave."

XXXIV.

Thus in communion grave they past the day,

And night returning brought its slumbers sweet,
And on the following morn the sun's broad ray

Looked down serene on Waban's lone retreat.
Williams might now have journeyed on his way,
Had he known whither to direct his feet;
Therefore with Waban still did he delay,
To scan the savage tribes that round him lay.

XXXV.

Hence might he secretly to Salem write,

And friends approving still his plans arrange,
For Waban soon would bear his peltry light
To Salem's mart, where he might interchange
The mute epistles, meet for friendly sight,

But which might still prompt bigotry's revenge,

If to the vulgar eye they should appear,
And point the persecutor's footsteps here.

XXXVI.

Among the savage tribes around to go,

And sound the feelings of each different clan, Had fitting seemed, but little did he know

How they might treat a pale-faced, outlawed man,
Friendless and homeless, wandering to and fro,

And flying from his own white chieftain's ban;
They for a price might strike the fatal blow,
Or bear him captive to his ruthless foe.

XXXVII.

Better it were, so deemed our father well,
To approach and win the savage by degrees,
Since to his lot the dangerous duty fell,

(For such it seems were Heaven's all-wise decrees,)
To found a State, unarmed, where rung the yell
Of barbarous nations, on the midnight breeze;
Against the scalping knife with no defence,

Save in the heaven-wrought shield his heart's benevolence.

XXXVIII.

This, this alone, his buckler and his brand,
This, yet unproved and doubted by the best,
In cheerless wilds, mid many a savage band,
Spurned from his home, by christian men opprest,
Must glance the warrior's dart, unnerve his hand,
And give him conquest in his rugged breast.

The dreaded panther, by the feeble hare,

Must be approached and soothed in his own mountain lair.

XXXIX.

That night returning from the accustomed pool,
Waban came laden with the beavers' spoils,

And joy seemed dancing in his very soul,

As he displayed the fruits of his long toils;
Much he rejoiced, and Williams heard the whole,
How long he'd watched, and of his frequent foils;

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