“And there is cause, I trow.--Who cannot see That a dark cloud o’er our New England lowers? The tender conscience struggles to be free; The tyrant struggles, and retains his powers. O, whither shall the hapless victims flee, Where be their shelter when the tempest roars? May it be here--may it be Heaven’s decree, To make its builder of a worm like me.” XVII. While thus he spake, the neighboring thickets shook, And from them issued one of mien austere; And Williams knew a Plymouth elder’s look, In doctrines stern--in practice most severe; His gait was slow, and loath he seemed to brook Such signs of comfort and of earthly cheer; And up he came, they scarce could reason why, Like a dark cloud along a cheerful sky. XVIII. The gloom that gathered o’er our Father’s breast, He strove with heavy effort to dispel; “Elder!” he said, “thou art an honored guest; To see our ancient friends should please us well; Thy journey long must give the banquet zest; Come and partake our sylvan meal, and tell The while what word or tidings thou mayst bear From Plymouth’s rulers and our brethren there.” XIX. “Williams,” he said, “I need no food of thine-- The wilds I thread not without store my own; But I would fain beneath that roof recline To-night, and rest my limbs till morn be shown;-- And there this eve some reasoning, I opine, (For all may err,) a weighty theme upon, May not be deemed amiss.--Perchance a light Will on thee break and set thy feet aright.” XX. “Elder, whatever themes,” our Founder said, “My scant attainments fit me to essay, Shall not avoidance have from any dread That thy strict logic may my faults betray; That ‘all may err,’ means that our friends have strayed, And not that we have wandered from the way; It is a maxim to perversion grown, And points to others’ faults to hide our own. XXI. “But as my Plymouth visitor requests, We’ll seek that cottage; I have called it mine, These hands have built it; but all friendly guests May call it theirs, and, Elder, it is thine While thou sojournest here. Whoever rests Beneath its roof may not expect a fine, A dungeon, scourge, or even banishment, For heresy avowed, or doubted sentiment.” XXII. They sought the cottage.--Its apartments rude, But still a shelter from the cold and heat, A cheerful fire and fur-clad settles shewed, And other comforts, simple, plain, and neat. The Elder paused, and all the mansion viewed, Then, with a long-drawn sigh, he took his seat, And briefly added--“Thou hast labored, friend, Hard--very hard! I hope for worthy end.” XXIII.