The beaver's girdle closely swathed his waist;
It's skirts hung low, all trimm'd with 'broidery fine;
The well-formed ankles the close gaiters bound,
With furs befringed, and starred with tinsel round.
LX.
Nature's kind feelings did his visage grace;
His gently arching brow was shorn all bare,
And the slight smile now fading from his face,
The aspect left of serious goodness there;
Though bright his eyes beneath his forehead's base,
They rather seemed to smile than fiercely glare;
And the free dignity of Waban's race
Seemed moving in his limbs and breathing from his face.
LXI.
Williams the pledge of friendship now returned,
And thanks o'erflowing to the hunter gave:
"From the Great Spirit sure my brother learned
His brother's danger, when he came to save."
"Waban," he answered, "from his lodge discerned
A stranger's fire, and heard the monsters rave.
Waban has long within these wilds sojourned;
But ne'er before has pale Awanux burned
LXII.
"His fire within this unfrequented glade.
Wanders my brother from his homeward way?
The storm is thick, he surely may have strayed;
Or has he hunted through the weary day
The rapid moose; or in this lonely shade
Seeks he to trap the deer, or make essay
To catch the wily beavers, who have made
Their cunning wigwams in the river's bed?"
