Yet Williams deemed that persecution took A form in them less odious than in men; He on their proper solitude had broke,-- Ay, and had trespassed on their native glen; His human shape they scantly too might brook, For it their enemy had ever been; But bigot man to probe the conscience sought, And scathed his brother for his secret thought. LIII. Oft he recruited now the sinking blaze-- His stock of fuel seemed too scant to last; Yet, in the terror of the glittering rays, Was now the anchor of his safety cast; With utmost reach the boscage did he raze, Or clipt the branches overhead that past; And still the burning pyre at times would raise, Or hurl the firebrand at the monster’s gaze. LIV. At length the groups a panic seemed to seize, And soon he knew the terrifying cause; For swelling slow beneath the arching trees, Trilled the long whine the dreadful panther draws; A sound that might the boldest bosom freeze; ’Twas followed by a drear and awful pause; Naught marred the silence save the murmuring breeze, And the far storm, like roar of distant seas. LV. Of all the dangerous monsters of the wood, None did the hunter dread like panther dire, For man and beast he fearlessly pursued;-- Whilst others shunned, he was allured by fire; And Williams knew how perilous his mood, And braced his nerves to battle with his ire; Beside the rising blaze he firmly stood, And every avenue of danger viewed. LVI. In God he trusted for deliverance,-- He thought of Daniel in the lion’s den; He waited silent for the fierce advance,-- He heard the fagots break along the glen; Another long-drawn yell, and the fierce glance Of two bright burning eye-balls, looking then Out of the darkness, did yet more enhance The terrors of the menacing mischance. LVII. But at this moment from the darkness broke A human voice, in Narraganset’s tongue; “Neemat!” (my brother) in kind tone it spoke, “How comes Awanux these drear wilds among?” And at the accents the dark thickets shook, And from them lightly the red hunter sprung, And from his belt familiarly he took And fired his calumet, and curled its smoke. LVIII. Then to our Founder passed the simple cheer, In sign of friendship to a wandering man, “Let not,” he said, “my brother quake with fear, ’Twas _Waban’s_ cry at which the monsters ran.” Williams received the pledge of faith sincere; Yet warily his guest began to scan. Tall did his straight and active form appear, And armed but with the hunter’s simple gear. LIX.