In that wild man;—there stood the ancient Cain
And here the modern, better skilled to check
The wayward passions, and how dark soe'er
The mirror there might be, the real form was here.
LVII.
"Waban!" at length he said, "I grieve to see
That all I sowed fell on a barren rock;
How could my brother hope to gladden me
By such a deed? Thou dost thy sachem shock!
O! from thy savage nature try to flee;—
Lay down thy murderous knife and tomahawk,
And dwell on better themes. New toils invite,
And high rewards my brother shall requite.
LVIII.
"Oft have I heard my hunter name with pride
His long, deep, hollow, arrow-winged canoe;
Now drag her from the fern to Seekonk's tide,
And bid her skim once more the waters blue;
She loves to rove, and we must far and wide
Seek other forests for a dwelling new;
Our toils here end; a cloud from Wamponand
Hangs o'er our glade, and blackens all the land."
LIX.
A fickle race the red man's kindred were,
Free as the elk that roved their native wood,
Here did they dwell to-day, to-morrow there,
As want or pleasure ruled the changeful mood;
And Waban loved adventures bold and rare,
Nor heard with sorrow of a new abode;
And forth he goes to seek his long canoe,
And trim her breast to skim the waters blue.
