And wilder shouts the echoing vales prolong,
To hear that priest was from the council driven;
"The tree of peace" they cried, "will bloom again,
The wizard's banished, and his manit slain."
LXI.
Then to the elder chief our Father gave
The Narraganset friendly calumet;
And it was pleasant to behold the grave
And stern old Sachem, whilst his eyes were wet
With tears of gratitude;—he could outbrave
The stake's grim tortures, and could smiling sit
Amid surrounding foes; yet kindness could
Subdue to tears this "stoic of the wood."
LXII.
He clasped our Father by the hand and led
Him up, in silence, to the mountain's crown;
And there, from snow-capt outlook at its head,
They gazed o'er bay and isle and forest brown.
It seemed a summer's eve in winter bred;
The sun in ruddy gold was going down,
And calm and far the expanded waters lay,
Clad in the glory of the dying day.
LXIII.
There stretched Aquidnay tow'rd the ocean blue,
In virgin wildness still of isles the queen;
Her forests glimmered with the western hue,
Her vales and banks were decked with cedars green,
And southward far her swelling bosom drew
Its lessening contours, in the distance seen;—
Till, wavering indistinctly, in the gray
Encroaching sea-mists they were hid away.
