Waban he said, would still the fire repair,
And still in comfort keep his pale-faced guest,
"And may the Manittoo of dreams," he said,
"The happiest visions on thy slumbers shed.
LXXXI.
"Upon this pallet she was wont to lay
Herself to sleep whose spirit now is gone;
And may that spirit to thy visions say
Where now she dwells, and where my little son;
Whether on that blest island far away,
O'er the blue hills beyond the setting sun,
They with their kindred joy, or nearer home,
Still lingering, wait until the father come."
LXXXII.
Williams replied, that he would speak at morn
Of that far journey which the spirit takes;
And name the Guide, who never soul forlorn,
Whilst passing through death's gloomy night, forsakes.
His brother, then, on fitting day in turn,
Would name the bounds, by rivers, bays, and lakes,
Of neighboring chiefs, and say what Sachems might
His mission threaten, or its hopes invite.
LXXXIII.
Our Founder slept; and on that night, I ween,
Deep was the slumber of that pallet low,
Calm were its dreams as was his breast serene—
Such sleep can persecutors never know;
He slept, until the dawning light was seen
Down through the dome to shine upon his brow;
Then Waban woke him to his simple cheer
Of the pure fount, nausamp,[1] and savory deer.
- ↑ The word samp is a corruption of the Indian nausamp, and has the same
meaning.
