“No more, friend Williams,” said the Elder here, “No more will we on this grave theme delay; My hopes were high, and ’twas an object dear To shed some light on thy benighted way; But still wilt thou with sinful purpose steer Thy little bark against the tempest’s sway; On mayst thou go--I cannot say God speed! But would thy object were some better deed. XXXVIII. “Couldst thou renounce thy purpose here to base A State where heretics may refuge find, I do not doubt that to some little grace The Plymouth rulers would be well inclined; But as it is, perhaps some other place, Still more remote, may better suit thy mind; But till the morn as may a guest befit, My message hither do I pretermit.” XXXIX. Our Founder pondered on the Elder’s word; What could this dark portentous message be, With its delivery until morn deferred, Lest it should mar night’s hospitality. The wrath of Plymouth he had not incurred, He with her Winslow was in amity; Then what strange message had the Elder borne, That utterance sought, and yet was hushed till morn! XL. This cause, mysterious, darkling, undefined, Did by degrees each cheerful thought efface, And poured portentous glooms along his mind, That seemed reflected by each friendly face; The matron sighed, and childhood disinclined To mirth or sport, sought slumber’s soft embrace, And soon the gathered night did all dispose, To shun their boding thoughts in dull repose. XLI. Morn comes again;--the inmates of the cot Rise from scant slumber, and their guest they greet; “Williams,” he said, “it is my thankless lot, Thee with no pleasant message now to meet; Nor hath our Winslow in his charge forgot (For his behest I bear and words repeat) His former friendship, but right loth is he To vex his neighbors by obliging thee. XLII. “In short, thou art on Plymouth’s own domain; Beyond the Seekonk is the forest free,-- This must thou leave, but there thou mayst maintain Thy State unharmed, and still our neighbor be; Fain had I spared thee this deep searching pain, By showing thee thy dangerous heresy; It may not be; hence, therefore, must thou speed; The Narragansets may protect thy creed.” XLIII. To breathless statues turned the listeners stood, Silent as marble and as cold and pale; With vacant gaze our Sire the Elder viewed, O’erwhelmed, confounded by this sudden bale; As when some swain, deep in the sheltering wood, Ere he has seen the tempest on the gale, Marks the bright flash; the smitten senses reel; He stands confounded ere he learns to feel. XLIV.