“Brother,” said Williams, “these thou seëst are Hands that the blood of man ne’er crimsoned yet; Oft do I lift them to the God of prayer-- Ah! how unseemly if with slaughter wet! But to the hostile Sachems I could bear The pipe of peace, thy snow-white calumet, And quench the flame of strife--how better far Than win thy lands by all-devouring war! XXX. “With Waban for my guide, in friendly guise, Sachem, I would the arduous task essay To heal those ancient feuds by counsel wise, And quell the wrath begotten long away; Were this not better than the sacrifice Of armies slain in many a bloody fray? Then may I plant, and, in each neighboring clan, Meet with a friend where’er I meet a man. XXXI. “Ha! Yengee,” said the Sachem, “wouldst thou go To soothe the hungry panther scenting blood? Say, canst thou bid Pawtucket’s downward flow Turn and run backward to Woonsocket’s wood? The path to peace is shut;--the eager foe Sharpens his darts, and treads his dances rude, And through the trembling groves the war-whoop trills From bleak Manisses[15] to the Nipnet hills. [15] Manisses--Block Island. XXXII. “Yengee! thou seest these Wampanoags brave-- They are my Keenomps in the battle fray; Would it become Haup’s sagamore to crave Inglorious rest for warriors strong as they? They shrink from nothing but a dastard’s grave: Bound to the stake, upon their lips would play The smile of scorn. How can they crouch and cry For peace?”--he said; and Williams made reply: XXXIII. “The Great Spirit, almighty o’er the Whole, Wields earth at will and moulds the hearts of men; At his command torrents may backward roll, The hare may gambol in the panther’s den; In Him I trust, and in His strength my soul Is more than armies.--Let your brother then Ask for himself, if not for thee or thine, That on these lands the sky of peace may shine. XXIV. “How could your brother plant, where all around War’s tempest raging pours its showers of blood? Where from each thicket bursts the war-whoop’s sound, And death in ambush lurks in every wood? When would the feet of his dear friends be found To pass along the blood-stained solitude, And bring their all--their dearer far than life-- Beneath uplifted axe and scalping knife?” XXXV. Upon our Father’s words to meditate, That wise old chief kept silence for a space; Thus far he had prolonged the shrewd debate, And inly striven his bounties to retrace-- Not, as it seemed at first, from growing hate, But so to magnify his purposed grace, That what he gave should be right worthy thought Of the much needed succor that he sought. XXXVI.