And now, with vigor and redoubled haste, Our Founder delves to plant the foodful maize; He turns the glebe, does nature’s rankness waste, The boscage burn, and noxious brambles raze; Then o’er the seed, on earth’s brown bosom placed, The fertile mould with careful hand he lays; Nor yet content,--still labors, other whiles, The glade to gladden with a garden’s smiles. XIV. Then in the woods he carved the deep alcove, And led the climbing vines from tree to tree; But near the cottage left the birchen grove, Its tassels waving in the breezes free; While o’er the stream their boughs the cedars wove, Where wound a walk adown the murmuring lea; And gadding vines embowered the fount’s bright flow ’Twixt banks of vernal flowers in bloom below. XV. Ne’er hatchet touched the overhanging bough, Whereon the robin built her wonted nest; About the borders did the wild rose grow, For there the thrush might soothe her brood to rest; Nor would he banish from her dwelling low The long-eared rabbit, but her young caressed; Fed from his hand they gambolled in the grove, Caressed our Sire in turn, and mimicked human love. XVI. And these long toils had Waban’s faithful aid; His twanging bow announced the early dawn; Boldly he pushed into the deepest shade, Or scanned the tracks upon the dewy lawn; With lusty arms he grappled on the glade The growling bear, or caught the bounding fawn, Or, with sure arrow and resounding bow, Brought down the turkey from her lofty bough. XVII. Sometimes he would the river’s bed explore, Where with sure grasp the slippery eels he caught; Sometimes he delved along the sandy shore, And to the lodge the shelly tribute brought; And ever shared he with his Sagamore, (For so to call our Founder he was taught,) The produce of his toils; and ’twas his care To parch the maize and spread the frugal fare. XVIII. So for a while they two in quietude, With hopes auspicious, urged their task along,-- Lighter of heart; though Williams still would brood, And inly marvel, o’er the missing throng Of friendly Indians, issuing from the wood To greet him with “What-Cheer” in voices strong; And oft would wonder if perchance a vain Illusion had beguiled his troubled brain. XIX. But omens dark and dire appeared at last: The grim Pawaw had seen the mansion rise,-- Had from Mooshausick’s highlands often cast On the advancing work his watchful eyes; And often, wafted on the passing blast, Our Sire had heard that wizard’s warning cries:-- Yet hoped that, baffled and chastised, his pride, And courage too, had with his serpent died. XX.