Then sprang into the stern, and cheerly bade
The dusky pilot his deft paddle ply;—
While, shoved from shore, the settling skiff descends
Low in the flood, and with the burden bends.
VIII.
Now with a giddy whirl the wheeling prow
Veering around points with the downward tide;
Then Waban's paddle cuts the glassy flow;
The mimic whirlpools pass on either side;
The surface cleaves, the waters boil below;—
The cot, the glade, the forests backward glide;
Until the shadows, moving as they flew,
Closed round the green and shut the roof from view.
IX.
Pawtucket's murmurs die upon their ears,
As through the smooth expanse the swift canoe
Drives on; and now the straitened pass appears
With jutting mounds that lofty forests shew;—
Each giant trunk a navy's timber rears;
Their mighty shadows o'er the flood they threw,
Shutting the heavens out, till glimmering day
Could scarce the long, dark, winding path display.
X.
Deep silence reigned o'er all the sable tide,
Broke only by the swarthy pilot's oar;
Under the arching boughs the wanderers glide,
And the dark ripplings curl from shore to shore;
The startled wood-ducks 'neath the waters hide,
Or on fleet pinions through the branches soar;
Whilst overhead the rattling boughs, at times,
Tell where the streaked raccoon or wild cat climbs.
