I
Grows the great deed, though none
Shout to behold it done!
To the brave deed done by night
Heaven testifies in the light
Stealthy and swift as a dream,
Crowding the breast of the stream,
In their paint and plumes of war
And their war-canoes four score,
They are threading the Oolastook,
Where his cradling hills o’erlook.
The branchy thickets hide them;
The unstartled waters guide them.