They had their Corbitants of surly mood, Who scarce would yield obedience to their lord; Alike they thirsted for the Yengees’ blood, And Wampanoag’s and alike abhorred. By gaudy gifts their anger he subdued, Or won their kindness by his soothing word; But one there was who spurned all proffers kind, Whose demon hate was to all goodness blind. XIV. It was the grim Pawaw.--He came in ire From his proud dwelling by Mooshausick’s stream; His was the voice of gods and omens dire, And loud he chanted his prophetic dream; “The white man’s gods had set the woods on fire, And Chepian vanished in its fearful gleam; Their fathers’ ghosts came from their hunting ground-- Their children sought, and only ashes found.” XV. Gravely attentive did the council hear That crafty priest his awful omens sing. The warriors, ruled by superstitious fear, Half credence gave, and overawed the king. In groups they thronged the forest, far and near, With gathered brows and surly muttering; And still the prophet through the kindling crowds, Moved like a comet through night’s lowering clouds. XVI. And as he passed, the varying rumors flew Of secret plans hatched by the Yengees’ hate; And still their fears and doubts and wonder grew, Whilst on that dream the chiefs prolonged debate; For priest he was and politician too, And oft he meddled with affairs of state, Wrought on the fears of superstition’s crew, And the best counsels of the wise o’erthrew. XVII. Thus, when the senate dared resist his sway, He still gained triumph with the multitude; Till now the chiefs, half yielding to dismay, Yet vexed and goaded by his rebel mood, Bade that the clans assemble on a day, And Williams meet the prophet of the wood, And in their presence front and overthrow His strange dominion, or all hope forego. XVIII. I will not say that devils did enlist To do the bidding of the grim Pawaw; He may have been a wild ventriloquist, Formed by rude nature; but the age which saw The marvels that he wrought, would aye insist His spells surpassed material nature’s law; And that the monarch of the infernal shade Mustered his legions to the wizard’s aid. XIX. Great was his fame; for wide the rumor went That all the demons were at his command, And fiends in rocks, and dens, and caverns pent, Came to the beck of his black waving hand; The boldest Keenomps, on resistance bent, Could not the terror of his charms withstand; But still would shrink and shudder at the sound, When spoke his viewless fiends in anger round. XX.