'Twas stormy night, the hunter sheltered me,
And gave me in his lodge abundant cheer;
Then tow'rd the rising sun for me he sped,
And saw the home from which the wanderer fled.
XXXVI.
"There too he saw his little children play,
And the white hand which gave the blanket red;
But now that gloomy time seems far away,
For much has happened, many a moon has sped;
The lodge is built, the garden smiling gay;—
Will the swift foot once more the forest thread,
And guide the children and the snow-white hand,
With watchful tendance, to this distant land?"
XXXVII.
Waban replied: "The nimble-foot will go;—
But a gaunt wolf may haunt the hunter's way,
And he will whet his darts, and string his bow,
And gird his loins as for the battle fray;
The Priest of Chepian ne'er forgets a foe;—
His vengeance lasts until a bloody day
Doth feed the crows, or still a bloodier night
Gives the gaunt wolf a feast ere dawning light."
XXXVIII.
"God is our trust!" our pious Founder said,
"Arm, and go forth confiding in his might;
So far as e'er an exile's foot dare tread
The ground forbidden him, thy sachem white
Will go to meet thee; and when morn has shed
Five times from eastern skies her golden light,
Will wait thee and his wife and children dear,
Hidden in Salem woods till thou appear."
