That all Coweset was in arms arrayed
Against that chief, and, had the dance begun;
Then paused your brother—for he would not bring
His friends to sit beneath the hatchet's swing.
XXIX.
"Then did he take Haup's calumet to crave
That peace between the hostile nations be;
Not that the Wampanoag warriors brave
Sought from the Narraganset storm to flee;
But that no guilty stain, on Seekonk's wave,
Rebuke the Pokanoket Chief or thee,—
The work, perchance, of darts from heedless bows,
Confounding pale-faced friends with warring foes.
XXX.
"My motives these; now let the wise chief tell
What wrongs he suffers; what redress he seeks.
Do not his buried kindred slumber well?
What murdered victim's ghost for vengeance shrieks—
Sends through the echoing woods the warrior's yell,
And from its iron sleep the hatchet wakes?
Or does some impious tongue his anger brave,
By speaking names made sacred by the grave?"
XXXI.
Then passed a murmur through that concourse wide,
And man on man cast the inquiring eye;
At length the old chief laid his pipe aside,
And, musing, sate, as pondering his reply;
Then slowly rose, and drew the pluméd hide
From his right shoulder, and, with stature high,
Stretched forth his long bare arm and shriveled hand,
And pointing round the sky-encircled land;—
