CANTO FOURTH.
[Scene. The Narraganset Camp at Potowomet.]
The twain have left the height, and sought the glade
Where the red warriors wheel the martial dance;
A while the thick young cedars round them made
A cover that concealed their still advance;
But passing quickly through the denser shade,
Sire Williams sent abroad his searching glance
O'er the rude camp, and saw, on every side,
Around the blazing fires the dancers glide.
II.
Hundreds on hundreds thronged the glade, I ween,
With painted visages and pluméd hair;
There bristled darts, there glittered lances sheen,
And brandished knives upon the ambient air
Carved fiery circles—whilst, with threatening mien,
Their dark locks streaming and their muscles bare,
The dancers circled o'er the thundering ground,
And leaping, breathed the hard, harsh, aspirated sound.
III.
But chiefly tow'rd the centre pressed the throngs
Where plied the bravest chiefs their dances rude:—
There listened to their Sachem's battle songs,
And when he ceased, in leaps his lance pursued;
The while the tumult swelled until their lungs,
Wrung to the highest effort, filled the wood
With the wild war-whoop, tremulous and shrill,
Then hushed itself and suddenly was still;
