The priests of the Androscoggins appeared one by one within this vast temple or grotto which we have described, followed by the ancient chiefs of the tribe, each bearing a symbol indicative of his rank or office. It was observed that the Grand High Priest entered and threw himself before the stone of sacrifice in silence. His robe was gathered closely to his person, but what was most ominous of all, he had covered his face with the wings of the bat, which totally concealed his features.
All eyes followed his movements, and all ranged themselves in a circle beneath the overhanging arch; low moans escaped from his breast; he writhed upon the ground, and spread forth his hand as if for succor. At length these words burst from his lips, in a low wail like one who is compelled to speak, when he would choose to be silent:
“Where are the leaves of the late summer tree?
Gone—down-trampled forever, and lost.
Where is the mist that rose from the sea?
Turned into stone by the lips of the frost.
“Where are the braves that march to the fight?
Hark! ’tis the shrieking of maidens I hear!
The warriors are gone—they vanish from sight.
Where is the battle-cry sweet to the ear?”