Waban is there; and, from behind a screen,
Formed by the leaf of bush and bending bough,
He saw the Bright-Eyed Fawn, bound to the stake—
The fagots heaped around—the flames awake!
LVII.
"Two warriors, standing, mock her cries, and four,
In the fire-water drenched, lie here and there
In slumber deep, from which they woke no more.
One arrow Waban sent;—through shoulder bare
Transfixed, one scoffer fell, and quenched in gore
His kindling brand. Then, springing from his lair,
As panther springs, with the bright glancing knife
Did Waban dart, and, hand to hand in strife,
LVIII.
"Cleft down the second, who, with wild amaze,
But faintly fought;—straight from the Bright-Eyed Fawn
The bands were cut, and from the rising blaze
She springs unscathed. The slumberers on the lawn
Were not forgot: they slept—they sleep—yet gaze
(If gaze that be which is all sightless); dawn,
Noon, and night, are one. Broad Antler's ghost
Wandered not long upon Sowaniu's coast;
LIX.
"Fully avenged, he sought the spirit band
Of his brave fathers, whilst the daughter, won
By Waban from the cruel Pequot's hand,
Dwelt in his lodge, the mother of his son.
All now are gone—gone to the spirit land,
And Waban's left all desolate and lone."
Such tales the evening hours beguiled, and filled
With breathless zest, or with blank horror chilled.
