As thus he spake, the sullen murmurs died, And, hushed and listening, all the warriors stood; Again he moved--and at his onward stride The deep mass parted like a severing flood; And, yielding either way, the living tide Left clear the space through which our Founder trod: Their breath alone he heard--like the hoarse breeze Foreboding tempests to the shuddering trees. XIX. At last he came where the old Sachems sate, Who formed the Narraganset senate grave; Renownéd were they once, in fierce debate Of battle dire, as bravest of the brave; But now, as guardians of their little state, To younger hands they prudent counsel gave. Their youth was gone, but their experience sage Had thrice its value in a wise old age. XX. On settles, raised around the mounting blaze, Sit gray Wauontom, Keenomp, Sagamore; But he who most attracts our Founder’s gaze Is sage Canonicus, whose tresses hoar Float on the passing breeze; whose brow displays The care-worn soul in many a furrowed score; But whose bright eyes, that underneath it glow, Still show the chief of sixty years ago. XXI. Beside him lay the calumet of peace-- It was his sceptre mid the din of arms; No martial dyes did on his visage trace The lines of wrath--for him they had no charms; The neyhom’s[17] mantle did his shoulders grace, With ample folds that stayed the winter’s harms; At every movement, changing in the sun, From plume to plume its glistering glories run. [17] The neyhom, or wild turkey. See note. XXII. Mute were the chiefs and seemed to meditate; Nor turned their heads, nor cast a glance aside, When on the offered mat our Founder sate, And close behind him came his watchful guide. Then spread the warriors round in circle great, And did the earth beneath their numbers hide; They sit, kneel, stand, or climb the forest boughs, Till all around the live enclosure grows. XXIII. When ceased the crowd to stir, and died their hum, Long on our Sire the old chief kept his gaze; At length he said: “And has Awanux come? He’s welcome to the red man’s council blaze. What news brings he from the pale stranger’s home? Or from the dog that near his wigwam strays? Our young men see the pipe--what does it seek? Our ears are open--let Awanux speak.” XXIV. Sire Williams rose;--a thousand staring eyes Were on him fixed; a thousand ears were spread To catch his words, whilst all around him lies That mass of life hushed in a calmness dread, Like that of dark Ontario, when the skies Are mustering their tempests overhead; And the round moon looks through the gathering storm And, glassed mid tempest shapes, beholds her form. XXV.