We may together sit, secure from harms,
And smoke the calumet from day to day;
And our descendants, all the years to come,
Have but one fire one undivided home."

XXIX.

"Brother," said Williams, "these thou seëst are

Hands that the blood of man ne'er crimsoned yet;

Oft do I lift them to the God of prayer —
Ah! how unseemly if with slaughter wet!
But to the hostile Sachems I could bear

The pipe of peace, thy snow-white calumet,
And quench the flame of strife- how better far
Than win thy lands by all-devouring war!

XXX.

"With Waban for my guide, in friendly guise,
Sachem, I would the arduous task essay
To heal those ancient feuds by counsel wise,
And quell the wrath begotten long away;
Were this not better than the sacrifice

Of armies slain in many a bloody fray?
Then may I plant, and, in each neighboring clan,
Meet with a friend where'er I meet a man.

XXXI.

"Ha! Yengee," said the Sachem, "wouldst thou go
To soothe the hungry panther scenting blood?
Say, canst thou bid Pawtucket's downward flow
Turn and run backward to Woonsocket's wood?
The path to peace is shut; the eager foe

Sharpens his darts, and treads his dances rude,
And through the trembling groves the war-whoop trills
From bleak Manisses* to the Nipnet hills.

* Manisses-Block Island.

XXXII.

"Yengee! thou seest these Wampanoags brave—
They are my Keenomps in the battle fray;
Would it become Haup's sagamore to crave
Inglorious rest for warriors strong as they?
They shrink from nothing but a dastard's grave:
Bound to the stake, upon their lips would play
The smile of scorn. How can they crouch and cry
For peace?" he said; and Williams made reply:

XXXIII.

"The Great Spirit, almighty o'er the Whole,
Wields earth at will and moulds the hearts of men;
At his command torrents may backward roll,
The hare may gambol in the panther's den;
In Him I trust, and in His strength my soul
Is more than armies. Let your brother then
Ask for himself, if not for thee or thine,
That on these lands the sky of peace may shine.

XXIV.

"How could your brother plant, where all around War's tempest raging pours its showers of blood? Where from each thicket bursts the war-whoop's sound, And death in ambush lurks in every wood?

When would the feet of his dear friends be found

To pass along the blood-stained solitude,

Upon our Father's words to meditate,

That wise old chief kept silence for a space; Thus far he had prolonged the shrewd debate, And inly striven his bounties to retrace

Not, as it seemed at first, from growing hate,

But so to magnify his purposed grace,

That what he gave should be right worthy thought Of the much needed succor that he sought.

XXXVI.

"Keenomps!" at length thus spake the Sagamore, "Shall our white brother, not for me or mine, But for himself, seek Narraganset's shore,

Disperse the clouds, and let the sunlight shine From the blue sky of peace? Our wounds are sore But hatchets none to keen; and our design

May profit by delay, if he will light

His council fire and gathering friends invite.

XXXVII.

"His bow's now broken, and his knife now dull,
But when his warriors shall around him throng-
Its sharpened edge will thirst to peel the skull
Of Narraganset foe; — and he, more strong,
Will wield a mightier weapon, and, more full

Of valor, help us guard ourselves from wrong;
Whilst many a soul he sends to join the ghosts
That cry for vengeance round Sowaniu's coasts.

XXXVIII.

"On Seekonk's marge - our battle-stained frontier

His town will rise, and warlike will he feel;
The foe must pass him if he strike us here;
Our brother then will hang upon his heel,
Hinder his progress, and salute his ear

With the big thunders and the muskets' peal;
Lo! from the east the Tarrateen no more
Dare pass the Yengee by the ocean shore."

XXXIX.

As ceased the chief, a fierce smile lit the eyes

And curled the muscles of those men of blood; They feared the number of their enemies ;

This hope was cheering, and all answered good! All save stern Corbitant, whose visage is

Dark and portentous as a slumbering flood, Whose silent bosom holds the imaged storm, And seems the tempest that the skies deform.

XL.

Then rose each Keenomp, in his turn, and spake :
Each said his knife was sharp, his hands were strong;

But still such counsel as his chief might take

He should deem wise, and so advise his throng.
At length stern Corbitant did silence break ;—
But first unloosened from its leathern thong
His scalping knife, and then a circle true
With its bare point upon the earth he drew.

XLI.

"So move the hunters," the grim sachem said,
Then near the centre made of scores a few;
"Here do the moose and deer the thickets thread
To certain death from them whose feet pursue;
Do not the Yengees thus around us spread?

Are we not hunted thus our forests through?
Will Haup's brave Sachem yield Awanux aid,
While weep the spirits of his kindred dead?"

XLII.

"Go! thou dark Corbitant!" the old chief cried,
"Unarmed, the stranger seeks our vacant land,
Far from his friends would plant by Seekonk's tide,
His blood within the hollow of our hand.

When to the stranger has a chief denied

Food, fire, and space his blanket to expand? Hunted by him! when come his friends he may, If timid deer we are, turn off the beasts of prey.

XLIII.

"He goes, and goes but for himself alone, To ask that peace between the nations be, And if the belt of Narraganset won

He bring to Haup, 'twill be received by me. Now do I charge you, Keenomps, all as one,

That on his path no lurking wolves ye be. Who dares with purpose fell his way to haunt, Dies by this hand- e'en were he Corbitant.

XLIV.

"Do thou, swift Waban, with the Yengee go,
And point the way to Narraganset's clan ;
If thou dar'st walk before the bended bow,
Bring back the talks, that we the words may scan;
In all things else to him obedience show

He is thy sachem - be thou Winiams**

man.

But it were safe that thou the pipe should'st bear
Without that painted face and pluméd hair.”

XLV.

Then Williams brought his strings of wampum bright, And to the Keenomps each a present made,

Which each received, and, mimicking the white,

His thanks returned, and uncouth bow essayed; And Corbitant's grim visage seemed to light

With something like a smile that o'er it strayed, To see the wampum wreath our Founder flung, Where glittering on his breast the bauble hung.

* The Wampanoags could not say 7, but used n in place of it.