LVI.
In God he trusted for deliverance,—
He thought of Daniel in the lion's den;
He waited silent for the fierce advance,—
He heard the fagots break along the glen;
Another long-drawn yell, and the fierce glance
Of two bright burning eye-balls, looking then
Out of the darkness, did yet more enhance
The terrors of the menacing mischance.
LVII.
But at this moment from the darkness broke
A human voice, in Narraganset's tongue;
"Neemat!" (my brother) in kind tone it spoke,
"How comes Awanux these drear wilds among?"
And at the accents the dark thickets shook,
And from them lightly the red hunter sprung,
And from his belt familiarly he took
And fired his calumet, and curled its smoke.
LVIII.
Then to our Founder passed the simple cheer,
In sign of friendship to a wandering man,
"Let not," he said, "my brother quake with fear,
'Twas Waban's cry at which the monsters ran."
Williams received the pledge of faith sincere;
Yet warily his guest began to scan.
Tall did his straight and active form appear,
And armed but with the hunter's simple gear.
LIX.
The bear's dark fur loose o'er his shoulders cast,
His hand did only at the breast confine,
The wampum wreath, which round his forehead past,
Did with the flame's reflected brightness shine;
