CANTO FIRST.
[Scenes. The Fireside at Salem—The Wilderness—The Wigwam.]
I sing of trials, toils and sufferings great,
Which Father Williams in his exile bore,
That he the conscience-bound might liberate,
And to the soul her sacred rights restore;—
How, after flying persecution's hate,
And roving long by Narraganset's shore,
In lone Mooshausick's vale at last he sate,
And gave soul-liberty her Guardian State.
II.
He was a man of spirit true and bold;
Fearless to speak his thoughts whate'er they were;
His frame, though light, was of an iron mould,
And fitted well fatigue and change to bear;
For God ordained that he should breast the cold
And wet of northern wilds in winter drear,
And of red savages protection pray
From Christians, but—more savage still than they.
III.
Midwinter reigned; and Salem's infant town,
Where late were cleft the forests' skirts away,
Showed its low roofs, and, from their thatching brown
Sheeted with ice, sent back the sun's last ray;
