But on the bank a giant of the wood,
A towering hemlock, waved its lofty bough;
Waban his keen-edged hatchet promptly plied;
It bowed, it fell, and bridged the sounding tide.
L.
Upstayed thereon from bank to bank they past,
And now they travel under hostile sway:
The night around them gathers thick and fast,
Till, as more doubtful grows their devious way.
Their blankets on the frozen earth they cast,
And light the fire, and wait the coming day;—
When safely they their journey may pursue,
And greet the chiefs they seek in season due.
LI.
Williams that night lay on the snow-clad ground,
With nothing o'er him but the starry blue;
In parchéd maize and water pure he found
A sweet repast, that woke devotion true;
For while he saw the soul constrained and bound,
With wings enthralled, but not her eagle view,
One pious prayer made every suffering light,—
That he might free and speed her heavenward flight.
LII.
The red man smoked his pipe, or trimmed the fire,
And to our Father many a story told
Of barbarous battles and of slaughter dire
That on Pawtucket's marge befell of old;—
How always son inherited from sire
The same fierce passions in like bosom bold;
And wondered that his pale-faced chief could dare
The pipe between such angry Sachems bear.
