CANTO SEVENTH.
[Scenes. Seekonk's Mead—The Wilderness—Salem—The Wilderness—The Night at the Cavern—The New Home.]
Much Williams dreaded that dark priest, I ween,
Albeit he hid his fears from Waban's eyes;
His threat'ning arrows and his savage mien
Would often now in midnight dreams arise;
And, rising, bring of blood a woful scene—
His Mary pale—his children's wailing cries;
And he would start, aud marvel how a dream,
Delirium's thought, should so substantial seem.
II.
If in the lonely wilds, by evening dim,
That vengeful savage should the path waylay
Of all the dearest earth contained for him,
Those jewels of the heart, what power could stay
His thirst for blood—his fury wild and grim
As is the tiger's bounding on his prey?
Oft came obtrusive this appalling thought—
He shook it off—still it returned unsought.
III.
Not long he brooks this torturing delay,
But soon tow'rd Salem through the forest goes,
Nor will the Muse go with him on his way,
And sing in horrid shades each night's repose,
Until she, shuddering, mingle with her lay,
And seem herself to bear her hero's woes;
Let it suffice that on the third day's dawn,
He gazed from Salem woods on Salem town.
