The pale-faced foes whom I have left behind,
Would still accept a favor done by me.
I trusted God would guard his servant's head,
Open all paths, and soothe my brothers red.
XI.
Canonicus.
Thy generous confidence has on me won
And oped my ears, to other Yengees deaf.
Brother, the spirit of my son is gone—
I burned my lodge to speak my mighty grief;
If thou art true I am not left alone,
Some comfort is there for the gray-haired chief;
If to thy words the fitting deeds be done,
I am thy father, thou shalt be my son.
XII.
The kindest reader would fatigued complain,
Should I recount each question and reply,
That passed between our Father and the train
Of barbarous warriors and their Sachems high;
But though he languished o'er my humble strain,
Till patience left or dullness closed his eye,
To Williams it was not an idle song—
The dull reality did days prolong.
XIII.
They had their Corbitants of surly mood,
Who scarce would yield obedience to their lord;
Alike they thirsted for the Yengees' blood,
And Wampanoag's and alike abhorred.
By gaudy gifts their anger he subdued,
Or won their kindness by his soothing word;
But one there was who spurned all proffers kind,
Whose demon hate was to all goodness blind.
