XXXIX.
With trembling haste a slight repast they took,
And to their several places then repaired;
The mother sate deep in the rocky nook
Beside her children, and their pallet shared;
Red Waban sate upon a jutting rock,
Hard by the cavern's mouth, the pass to guard;
While at the entrance, Williams listening stood,
Screened by the vines, and every passage viewed.
XL.
Deep night came down o'er forest, vale and hill—
The dismal hootings of the darkling owl,
The melancholy notes of Whip-poor-will,
And the lone wolf's far distant long-drawn howl,
Answered at times by panther screaming shrill,
Such hideous echoes through the forest roll,
That Mary shudders, and, from transient sleep,
The infants starting up for terror weep.
XLI.
But Williams listened with accustomed ear,
The dread of man alone disturbed his breast;
Hour after hour, unmarked by danger near,
The pass he watches for the savage priest,
And still, with eyes turned tow'rd the flame, doth hear
Whatever steps the rustling leaves molest;
And oft he thought that through the brake he saw
The waving fox-tail of the grim Pawaw.
XLII.
At last within the hollow forest rose
Strange sounds that were unmeaning to his ear;—
As if there human hands were breaking boughs
Green with the verdure of the new-born year;
