XLVI.
To Haup's old chief a belt, with tinselry
Enchased, he gave, and trimmed with gilded wire;
Which when he donned, the warriors gazed in glee
Upon their Sachem in such brave attire;
Then filing singly, each in his degree,
They leave the lodge, and through the woods retire;
The chief appointing Haup, whereat to be
To hear the issue of the embassy.
XLVII.
Waban and Williams only tarried there,
And for the journey soon began to trim;
The red man doft his plumes, and loosed his hair,
And cleansed his visage of its colors grim;
Our Founder chose his Indian gifts to bear,
And pipe of peace, as well becoming him;
And forth they sallied, as from middle sky
The sun looked down between the branches high.
XLVIII.
Waban went foremost, upon nimble feet,
Through ancient grove and over woodland glade;—
His long black hair and blanket red, so fleet
He went, streamed backward in the breeze he made;
Often his form did out of sight retreat
Behind the crag—behind the thicket's shade—
And then his voice, along the echoing wood,
Told when he paused, or where his way pursued.
XLIX.
At length upon Pawtucket's marge they stood;
They heard the thunder of his falls below;
Though narrow was the pass, yet deep the flood,
And frail the ice to bridge its dangerous flow;
