Nothing he spake, but with a hideous yell, Raised his long dart, and, backward as he bent, From starting eye-balls shot the light of Hell; At Williams’ breast the vengeful glance was sent, But as his muscles did the barb impel, Red Waban’s grasp obstructed their descent;-- On earth the weapon falls and pants for blood; The lifted arm still threatening vengeance stood. L. Miantonomi, who the scene surveyed, Too long had now his rising wrath concealed; A mighty lance his better hand displayed, And well he knew its haft of length to wield; Backward its hilt the angry Sachem swayed, And ’neath its stroke the staggering wizard reeled; Till from a storm of blows he cringing fled, And madly howling through the forest sped. LI. “Go, Priest of Chepian, go!” the Sachem said, “Thy dreams are false--thy charms are all a cheat; Go to thy manit--tell him that his aid Has failed thee once, and thou art sorely beat. Us have thy prophecies too long betrayed, And vacant in the council is thy seat. When aid we need, we will to him apply Who conquers thee, and slays thy deity.” LII. A while the throngs sate as in deep amaze-- A while ’twas doubtful what might be their mood; At length wild shoutings they began to raise;-- One transport filled the total multitude; Their Sachem’s boldness cheerly did they praise, For long had they with dread the wizard viewed; Nor less admired our Founder’s courage true, Which did that juggler and his charms subdue. LIII. Then rose Canonicus, that shrewd old chief; “Brother!” he said, “much glory hast thou won; Thy deeds this day will scantly gain belief With warriors red, from rise to set of sun: Great Chepian’s priest, within a moment brief, Thou, with thy fearlessness, hast overdone; And thou art greater than his manits are,-- For they were vanquished in the combat fair. LIV. “Brother! we take thy calumet of peace, And throw the hatchet into quiet shade; The Wampanoag’s terrors may surcease, And thou mayst plant on Seekonk’s eastern glade; But hearken, brother!--better far would please Thy council fire if by Mooshausick made; But pass we that; for well our brother knows To live our friend surrounded by our foes. LV. “Brother! thou wilt our belt of friendship take, And for us win the kindness of the White, That when we war against the Pequot make, His hands may aid us, and his counsels light;-- His thunders speak and all the forests shake,-- His lightnings flash and spread a wild affright Through town and fortress, whereso’er we go, Till not a Pequot lives to tell his nation’s woe. LVI.