Page:What cheer, or, Roger Williams in banishment (1896).pdf/186

 XXXII.

"Abandoned by his Priest his land now lies,— Left by that Priest's own slaves,—for slaves had he Who tilled his field and made his mansion rise,  Adorned with mats and colors fair to see; The Priest is gone,—how, nothing care the wise;  His timid followers from their labors flee,— All fear within the fiend's control to stay; For who but Chepian's Priest can Chepian sway?"

XXXIII.

So spake Canonicus, the wise and old,— While shouts on shouts a full accordance shewed,— Then turned and sought the late forsaken hold; Our Sire, the matron, and her charge pursued; The ready tribes, behind them forming, rolled In march triumphant onward through the wood, Cheering the exile's home; and as they sped, Earth rumbled under their far-thundering tread.

XXXIV.

The forest branches, woven overhead, Shut out the day and cast a twilight gloom;— For where long since extends the verdant mead, Shines the fair palace, beauteous gardens bloom, One vault of green o'er-roofed a palisade Of trunks and brambles, boscage, brake and broom;— Amid which chafed the warriors' surly mood, And cracked and crashed the thickets as they trod.

XXXV.

They gained the height where now the Muses reign— Where now Brown's bounty to the human mind Links earth and heaven; the fruit of honest gain Moulding the youthful soul, by taste refined,