While o'er the stream their boughs the cedars wove,
Where wound a walk adown the murmuring lea;
And gadding vines embowered the fount's bright flow
'Twixt banks of vernal flowers in bloom below.
XV.
Ne'er hatchet touched the overhanging bough,
Whereon the robin built her wonted nest;
About the borders did the wild rose grow,
For there the thrush might soothe her brood to rest;
Nor would he banish from her dwelling low
The long-eared rabbit, but her young caressed;
Fed from his hand they gambolled in the grove,
Caressed our Sire in turn, and mimicked human love.
XVI.
And these long toils had Waban's faithful aid;
His twanging bow announced the early dawn;
Boldly he pushed into the deepest shade,
Or scanned the tracks upon the dewy lawn;
With lusty arms he grappled on the glade
The growling bear, or caught the bounding fawn,
Or, with sure arrow and resounding bow,
Brought down the turkey from her lofty bough.
XVII.
Sometimes he would the river's bed explore,
Where with sure grasp the slippery eels he caught;
Sometimes he delved along the sandy shore,
And to the lodge the shelly tribute brought;
And ever shared he with his Sagamore,
(For so to call our Founder he was taught.)
The produce of his toils; and 'twas his care
To parch the maize and spread the frugal fare.
