CANTO NINTH.
[Scenes. Seekonk's Stream and Banks—Whatcheer Cove and Shore—Mooshausick's Vale, or Site of Providencc.]
'Tis early morn; Pawtucket's torrent roar,
A solemn bass to Nature's anthem bold,
Alone wakes Williams' ear; its currents pour
Along with foaming haste, where they have rolled
Ages on ages, fretting here from shore
The basin broad, and there 'twixt hill and wold
Furrowing their channel deep; far hastening on,
Now lost in shades, now glimmering in the sun.
II.
No thraldom had they known save winter's frost;
No exile yet had their free bosom borne;
Deep in that glade (now to our Founder lost,)
Their wave eternal had a basin worn;
Oft thence their flow had borne the stealthy host,
In light canoes, before the gray of morn,
Darkling to strike the foe,—but now no more
They bear the freight of men athirst for gore.
III.
Early that morn, beside the tranquil flood,
Where ready trimmed rode Waban's frail canoe,
The banished man, his spouse and children, stood,
And bade their lately blooming hopes adieu.
The anxious mother had not yet subdued
Despondent sorrow, and the briny dew
Stole often down her cheeks; hers was the smart—
The searching anguish of the softer heart.
