Upstayed thereon from bank to bank they past, And now they travel under hostile sway: The night around them gathers thick and fast, Till, as more doubtful grows their devious way. Their blankets on the frozen earth they cast, And light the fire, and wait the coming day;-- When safely they their journey may pursue, And greet the chiefs they seek in season due. LI. Williams that night lay on the snow-clad ground, With nothing o’er him but the starry blue; In parchéd maize and water pure he found A sweet repast, that woke devotion true; For while he saw the soul constrained and bound, With wings enthralled, but not her eagle view, One pious prayer made every suffering light,-- That he might free and speed her heavenward flight. LII. The red man smoked his pipe, or trimmed the fire, And to our Father many a story told Of barbarous battles and of slaughter dire That on Pawtucket’s marge befell of old;-- How always son inherited from sire The same fierce passions in like bosom bold; And wondered that his pale-faced chief could dare The pipe between such angry Sachems bear. LIII. “Ten summers since, on yonder margin green,” He thus continued in a sadder tone, “A strong old hunter--Keenomp he had been Of many deeds--dwelt with his daughter lone: She, like the bright-eyed fawn, whose beauteous mien So charms the hunter that he stands like stone; He, like the brawny stag, with burning eye And antlers broad, and sinews that defy LIV. “The well-aimed shaft. Then Waban was a boy; And, lonely, loved to go, by moonlight dim Or dewy morn, to see, all life and joy, The Bright-Eyed Fawn. But ah! it chanced to him One morn to seek her at her home’s employ-- And, O! what havoc there!--what horrors grim! The old man lay in gore!--his daughter gone! His lodge in ashes! But the dewy lawn LV. “Showed prints of hostile feet. Waban is true-- He followed on the trail--a devious route; Far up the winding stream the morning dew Betrayed their steps, and hers with theirs; here out They turned--leaping from rock to rock, they drew Still onward far, until a thrilling shout, From far Woonsocket, died on Waban’s ears: He pauses--listens--and again he hears-- LVI. “The _Pequot’s_ yell! My Sachem sure has seen The well-drawn arrow leave the red man’s bow; So Waban went--the steps he made between Him and his foes no memory left--e’en now Waban is there; and, from behind a screen, Formed by the leaf of bush and bending bough, He saw the Bright-Eyed Fawn, bound to the stake-- The fagots heaped around--the flames awake! LVII.