Henceforth the demon must his lands resign,
And thou must be Mooshausick's Sagamore,
The right of conquest will do very well,
When Hell assails us, and we conquer Hell.
XV.
"But might the choice of either blameless go,
Mary! these fruits of suffering and of toils,
And racking cares through fourteen weeks of woe,
I'd prize far higher than the reeking spoils
Of all the nations laid by Cæsar low,
When he, the victor in Rome's civil broils,
Sate, like the Jove he worshipped, o'er a world
Whose crowns were offered, and whose incense curled.
XVI.
"And there is cause, I trow.—Who cannot see
That a dark cloud o'er our New England lowers?
The tender conscience struggles to be free;
The tyrant struggles, and retains his powers.
O, whither shall the hapless victims flee,
Where be their shelter when the tempest roars?
May it be here—may it be Heaven's decree,
To make its builder of a worm like me."
XVII.
While thus he spake, the neighboring thickets shook,
And from them issued one of mien austere;
And Williams knew a Plymouth elder's look,
In doctrines stern—in practice most severe;
His gait was slow, and loath he seemed to brook
Such signs of comfort and of earthly cheer;
And up he came, they scarce could reason why,
Like a dark cloud along a cheerful sky.
