"Waban," he says, "seest thou yon dusky breeze?
Say, from what town that curling smoke aspires?
What valiant sachem holds dominion there?
And what the number that he leads to war?"
XV.
"No town—the feast of peace!"—the red man cried,
And still with brawny arms impelled the oar;
"The clans from Narraganset far and wide,
And every tribe from Pokanoket's shore,
There smoke the pipe, and lay the axe aside,—
The pipe my chief to Potowomet bore;
Much they rejoice—their ancient hate forego,
And deem the White Chief a good Manittoo."
XVI.
A secret joy o'er Father Williams' breast
Stole like the fragrance of a balmy morn,
That breathes on sleep with fearful dreams opprest,
And wakes to its delights the wretch forlorn;
His toils and wanderings were not all unblest;
Some joy to others had his sufferings borne;—
But promised good brings doubt to the distrest,
And thus still dubious he his guide addrest:
XVII.
"What singing bird has on the wandering wing
Borne these strange tidings to my hunter's ear?
Where, on her pinions poising, did she sing,
And with her faithless song his bosom cheer?"
Waban replied, that he, while journeying
Unto the white man's town, through forests drear,
Had on Cohannet's banks his brethren met,
Bound to the banquet of the calumet.
