“Keenomps!” at length thus spake the Sagamore, “Shall our white brother, not for me or mine, But for himself, seek Narraganset’s shore, Disperse the clouds, and let the sunlight shine From the blue sky of peace?--Our wounds are sore But hatchets none too keen; and our design May profit by delay, if he will light His council fire and gathering friends invite. XXXVII. “His bow’s now broken, and his knife now dull,-- But when his warriors shall around him throng-- Its sharpened edge will thirst to peel the skull Of Narraganset foe;--and he, more strong, Will wield a mightier weapon, and, more full Of valor, help us guard ourselves from wrong; Whilst many a soul he sends to join the ghosts That cry for vengeance round Sowaniu’s coasts. XXXVIII. “On Seekonk’s marge--our battle-stained frontier-- His town will rise, and warlike will he feel; The foe must pass him if he strike us here; Our brother then will hang upon his heel, Hinder his progress, and salute his ear With the big thunders and the muskets’ peal; Lo! from the east the Tarrateen no more Dare pass the Yengee by the ocean shore.” XXXIX. As ceased the chief, a fierce smile lit the eyes And curled the muscles of those men of blood; They feared the number of their enemies; This hope was cheering, and all answered--good! All save stern Corbitant, whose visage is Dark and portentous as a slumbering flood, Whose silent bosom holds the imaged storm, And seems the tempest that the skies deform. XL. Then rose each Keenomp, in his turn, and spake: Each said his knife was sharp, his hands were strong; But still such counsel as his chief might take He should deem wise, and so advise his throng. At length stern Corbitant did silence break;-- But first unloosened from its leathern thong His scalping knife, and then a circle true With its bare point upon the earth he drew. XLI. “So move the hunters,” the grim sachem said, Then near the centre made of scores a few; “Here do the moose and deer the thickets thread To certain death from them whose feet pursue; Do not the Yengees thus around us spread? Are we not hunted thus our forests through? Will Haup’s brave Sachem yield Awanux aid, While weep the spirits of his kindred dead?” XLII. “Go! thou dark Corbitant!” the old chief cried, “Unarmed, the stranger seeks our vacant land,-- Far from his friends would plant by Seekonk’s tide, His blood within the hollow of our hand. When to the stranger has a chief denied Food, fire, and space his blanket to expand? Hunted by him!--when come his friends he may, If timid deer we are, turn off the beasts of prey. XLIII.