Not, as it seemed at first, from growing hate,
But so to magnify his purposed grace,
That what he gave should be right worthy thought
Of the much needed succor that he sought.
XXXVI.
"Keenomps!" at length thus spake the Sagamore,
"Shall our white brother, not for me or mine,
But for himself, seek Narraganset's shore,
Disperse the clouds, and let the sunlight shine
From the blue sky of peace?—Our wounds are sore
But hatchets none to keen; and our design
May profit by delay, if he will light
His council fire and gathering friends invite.
XXXVII.
"His bow's now broken, and his knife now dull,—
But when his warriors shall around him throng—
Its sharpened edge will thirst to peel the skull
Of Narraganset foe;—and he, more strong,
Will wield a mightier weapon, and, more full
Of valor, help us guard ourselves from wrong;
Whilst many a soul he sends to join the ghosts
That cry for vengeance round Sowaniu's coasts.
XXXVIII.
"On Seekonk's marge—our battle-stained frontier—
His town will rise, and warlike will he feel;
The foe must pass him if he strike us here;
Our brother then will hang upon his heel,
Hinder his progress, and salute his ear
With the big thunders and the muskets' peal;
Lo! from the east the Tarrateen no more
Dare pass the Yengee by the ocean shore."
