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 And wilder shouts the echoing vales prolong, To hear that priest was from the council driven; "The tree of peace" they cried, "will bloom again, The wizard's banished, and his manit slain."

LXI.

Then to the elder chief our Father gave The Narraganset friendly calumet; And it was pleasant to behold the grave And stern old Sachem, whilst his eyes were wet With tears of gratitude;—he could outbrave The stake's grim tortures, and could smiling sit Amid surrounding foes; yet kindness could Subdue to tears this "stoic of the wood."

LXII.

He clasped our Father by the hand and led Him up, in silence, to the mountain's crown; And there, from snow-capt outlook at its head, They gazed o'er bay and isle and forest brown. It seemed a summer's eve in winter bred; The sun in ruddy gold was going down, And calm and far the expanded waters lay, Clad in the glory of the dying day.

LXIII.

There stretched Aquidnay tow'rd the ocean blue, In virgin wildness still of isles the queen; Her forests glimmered with the western hue, Her vales and banks were decked with cedars green, And southward far her swelling bosom drew Its lessening contours, in the distance seen;— Till, wavering indistinctly, in the gray Encroaching sea-mists they were hid away.