XVIII.
And now hoarse murmurs reach our Founder's ear,
Rising behind a cape from crowds unseen;
Then by the eastern marge they swiftly steer,
Till shows a tufted isle its welcome screen;
Veering to this, they gain a prospect near
Of the red hosts that throng the opposing green;—
Hundreds on hundreds did the fires surround,
Ran on the shores or verdant banks embrowned.
XIX.
Along the strand their speed the racers try,
And with their flying feet scarce touch the ground;
From goal to goal the nimble hunters fly,
Crowds shout above them, and the woods resound;
Here their lithe limbs the swarthy wrestlers ply,—
They tug, they writhe, they sweat, crowds shout around;
And there the circles watch the doubtful game,
Or greet the victor with their loud acclaim.
XX.
Then Williams saw, beneath a shady bower,
Miantonomi, Sachem young and brave,
And Massasoit, Haup's kind Sagamore,
And old Canonicus, so wise and grave,
Known by his peaceful pipe and tresses hoar,
And by the scarlet coat our Founder gave;
Round them their captains intermingled stood,
All friendly now, though lately fierce for blood.
XXI.
From chief to chief the calumet they past,
Sitting, in silent solemn council, round;
Each thrice inhaled, thrice forth the vapors cast,—
First to the power that bids the thunder sound,
