The smoke should rise from many a cottage gay, Embosomed in its groves of cherry trees;

Where robins blithe should wake the roundelay, Whilst through the fields should grazing herds be seen, And mowers whetting scythes in meadows green.

LXXX.

But still a cloud across his mind there came—
A doubt that seemed like superstitious fear-
No Indian throng was here with loud acclaim
To give the welcome of Whatcheer! Whatcheer!
Till then he should be tossed-so did proclaim

That nameless stranger-that mysterious seer;
But from Haup's Sachem he a grant would gain-
Such were best welcome from his subject train.

LXXXI.

Full of this thought, he turned at closing day,
And gained the humble lodge as night came down ;
And scarcely could he brook the short delay,

Till Waban, coming from the white man's town,
From Massasoit, dwelling in his way,

Brought cheering welcome, or the blasting frown ; For then Religious Freedom thou wert poor,

And built thine earthly hopes on that rude sagamore,

CANTO THIRD.

No pain is keener to the ardent mind,

Filled with sublime and glorious intents, Than when stern judgment checks the impulse blind, And bids to watch the pace of slow events, To time the action-for it seems to bind The etherial soul upon a fire intense, Lit by herself within the kindling breast, Prompting to action whilst she chains to rest.

II.

Two nights had passed and Waban dallied still;
Williams began to doubt the red man's faith ;
Quick was his foot o'er forest, vale and hill,
His changeless eye still governing his path.
Why does he tarry? and the doubts instil
Unjust suspicions of awak'ning wrath,
Against his purpose in the savage clan,
Whose fears e'en then on future dangers ran.

III.

But, on the following morn, whilst Williams mused,
Still questioning the hunter's long delay,
The hut's rude entrance by the deer-skin closed
Abruptly opened, and a warrior gay

Glided within. And to the sight unused,

Of Keenomp trimmed as for the battle fray, Williams recoiled—and gazed, with fixed surprise, On the fierce savage and his fearful guise.

IV.

The eagle's plumes waved round his hair of jet

Whose crest-like lock played lightly o'er his head;

On breast and face the war-paints harshly met-
Down from his shoulders hung his blanket red-
With seeming blood his hatchet's haft was wet,-
Its edge of death was by his girdle staid;
Bright flashed his eyes; and, ready for the strife,
Gleamed in his hand the dreadful scalping knife.

V.

He placed a packet bound in Williams' hands,

And fired his pipe, and sitting, curled its smoke;
The whilst our founder broke the hempen bands,
And through the contents sent the inquiring look.
There found he, answered, all his late commands

To Waban, ere the wigwam he forsook ;
And from his spouse a brief epistle too,
Which told her sorrows since their last adieu.

VI.

How came the messengers with armed men
To search her mansion for "the heretic;"
How his escape awoke their wrath-and then

How they accused him for his feigning sick;
But with the thought consoled themselves again,
That he had perished in that tempest thick;
God's judgment just-their Israel now was free
From the vile license of his heresy.

VII.

But as he reads, the warrior starting cries:

"War! war! my brother"-Williams drops his hand, And by the voice marks in this altered guise,

Till now unknown, the generous Waban stand:

Erect he rose, and fiercely flashed his eyes;

Whilst his grasp prest the hatchet in his band;

"Brother there's war!"-"With whom?" our founder said, "Have I not friends among my brothers red?"

VIII.

Haup's valiant Sachem is my brother's friend,"
Replied red Waban, " And I come before

Him and the Keenomps bold, who hither wend
Attendant on our mightiest Sagamore;

He comes to ask my brother aid to lend

'Gainst Narraganset's hatchet stained with gore; Miantonomi lifts it o'er his head,

Gives the loud battle yell, and names our valient dead.

IX.

No space was there for Williams to reply,

Ere near the lodge he heard a trampling sound, And warriors entered, stained with every dye, Crested and plumed, and to their girdles bound The knife and hatchet; whilst the battle cry

Burst from the crowds that did the lodge surround, And seemed to light in every Keenomp's eye, That stood within, a dreadful sympathy.

X.

Amid this train came Massasoit old,

But not too old for direst battle fray; Strong was his arm as was his bosom bold; His judgment, bettered by experience gray, The wildest passions of his tribe controlled,

And checked their fury in its headlong way; Still with the strangers he his peace maintained, The terror of whose aid his foes restrained.

XI.

There too came Corbitant, so stern of mood,
And Annawan, who saw, in after times,
Brave Metacom, and all of kindred blood,
Slain, or enslaved and sold to foreign climes ;

And strong Apannow of Pocasset's wood,

And other chiefs of names unmeet for rhymes;
And round our father, in the fearful trim
Of savage battle, thronged those warriors grim.

XII.

Each fired his pipe, and seat in silence took;

Around the room a dreadful ring they made,

Their fierce eyes stared through wreaths of dusky smoke,

And 'mid its rising clouds their plumage played;

And through the obscure their forms scarce earthly look;
They seem like fiends in their infernal shade :

Silent the vapors rose, and naught they spoke,
Till Massasoit thus the silence broke.

XIII.

"And is my brother here? What does he seek?
Tow'rd Wamponand, upon the passing wing,
A singing bird there went; its opening beak
Was by Namasket's wigwam heard to sing,
That thou art friendless, homeless, poor and weak,
Seeking protection from an Indian King.

Do the white Sagamores their vengeance wreak,
E'en as the red chiefs, on their brethren ?-speak.

XIV.

Sire Williams answered, " 'twas no idle song

Sung by that bird which passed Namasket near; I am an exile these drear wilds among,

And hope for kindness from the red men here. Oft had thy friendship to the pale-faced throng, That first Patuxet peopled, reached my ear,* And the tale whispered thou wouldst still be kind To those who fly, and leave their all behind."

XV.

Then rose the tawny monarch of the wood

To speak his memory as became a chief;
And back he cast his crimson robes, and stood
With naked arm outstretched a moment brief;
Commanding silence by that attitude,

And to his words attention and belief.

Oft did he pause, his eyes on Williams fixed,

Whilst breathed his train applause his words betwixt.

XVI.

"Brother," he said, " full many a rolling year

Has cast its leaves and fruitage on the ground, *Patuxet is the Indian name for Plymouth.