Slightly our Founder tasted of the fare, For toil and chill much more than hunger prest; This Waban noted, and with tender care, The vacant pallet showed, and urged him rest; Waban he said, would still the fire repair, And still in comfort keep his pale-faced guest, “And may the Manittoo of dreams,” he said, “The happiest visions on thy slumbers shed. LXXXI. “Upon this pallet she was wont to lay Herself to sleep whose spirit now is gone; And may that spirit to thy visions say Where now she dwells, and where my little son; Whether on that blest island far away, O’er the blue hills beyond the setting sun, They with their kindred joy, or nearer home, Still lingering, wait until the father come.” LXXXII. Williams replied, that he would speak at morn Of that far journey which the spirit takes; And name the Guide, who never soul forlorn, Whilst passing through death’s gloomy night, forsakes. His brother, then, on fitting day in turn, Would name the bounds, by rivers, bays, and lakes, Of neighboring chiefs, and say what Sachems might His mission threaten, or its hopes invite. LXXXIII. Our Founder slept; and on that night, I ween, Deep was the slumber of that pallet low, Calm were its dreams as was his breast serene-- Such sleep can persecutors never know; He slept, until the dawning light was seen Down through the dome to shine upon his brow; Then Waban woke him to his simple cheer Of the pure fount, nausamp,[4] and savory deer. [4] The word _samp_ is a corruption of the Indian _nausamp_, and has the same meaning. CANTO SECOND. [SCENES. The Wigwam--The Wilderness--Pawtucket Falls--Seekonk’s Meads--The Wigwam.] It was the morning of a Sabbath day, When Williams rose to Waban’s simple cheer, But knew not where, save that vast forests lay Betwixt his home and the lone wigwam here; Yet ’twas a place of peace; no thing of clay, ’Twixt God and conscience in communion near, Came, with profane and impious control, To check the heavenward wanderings of his soul. II. God loves the wilderness; in deserts lone, Where all is silent, where no living thing Mars the hushed solitudes, where Heaven looks down, And Earth looks up, each as if marvelling That aught should be; and, through the vast unknown, Thought-breathing silence seems as uttering The present God,--there does He rear his throne, And, tranced in boundless thoughts, the soul doth own III. And feel his strength within.--This day once more, In place thus sacred, did our Founder keep; None, save the Deity he bent before, Marked the devotions of his feelings deep. None, do I say? yet there was Waban poor; Alas! his mind in utter night did sleep; He saw our Founder at his earnest prayer, But knew not what his supplications were. IV.