The stranger ceased, and gently past away, Though Williams to retain him still was fain; “The night was dark, and wild the tempest’s sway, And lone the desert,” but ’twas all in vain; He only in soft accents seemed to say, “Perchance I may behold thee yet again, What time thy day shall more auspicious be, And hope shall turn to joy in victory.” XXV. The stranger past, and Williams, by the fire, Long mused on this mysterious event: Was it some seraph, robed in man’s attire, Come down to urge and hallow his intent?-- To counsel--kindle--and his breast inspire With words of high prophetic sentiment? Or had he dreamed and in his mind, as clear As if in corporal presence, seen the seer? XXVI. ’Twas strange--mysterious! Yet, if dream it were, ’Twas such as chosen men of old had known, When Jacob saw the heaven-ascending stair, And Joseph hoarded for the dearth foreshown. Ah! did the Omniscient hear his earnest prayer, And did e’en Heaven the glorious project own! Then would he, by the morrow’s earliest ray, Unto the distant forest make his way. XXVII. He sought for rest, but feverous was his plight For peaceful and refreshing sleep, I trow; Still mused he on the morrow’s toilsome flight, Through unknown wilds and trackless wastes of snow; How to elude the persecutor’s sight, Or shun the eager quest of following foe, Tasked his invention with no labor light-- And long, and slow, and lagging was the night. XXVIII. And if by fits came intervening sleep, Through deserts wild and rugged roved his soul, Here rose the rock--there sunk the headlong steep, And fiercely round him seemed the storm to howl; The while from sheltered glen his foes would peep With taunts and jeers, and with revilings foul Scoff at his efforts; and their clamors deep Came mingled with that awful tempest’s sweep. XXIX. Morn came at last; and by the dawning day, Our Founder rose his secret flight to take; His wife and infant still in slumber lay;-- And shall he now that blissful slumber break? Oh, yes, for he believes that trials may, Within the mind, its mightier powers awake, And that the storms, which gloom the pilgrim’s way, Prepare the soul for her eternal day. XXX. “Mary!” (she woke) “prepare the meet attire, My pocket-compass and my mantle strong, My flint and steel to yield the needful fire, Food for a week, if that be not too long; My hatchet, too--its service I require To clip my fuel desert wilds among; With these I go to found, in forests drear, A State where none shall persecution fear.” XXXI.