“Here lies Namasket tow’rd the rising sun;
There Massasoit spends his seasons cold;
The warriors there are led by Annawan,
Of open hand and of a bosom bold;
Here farther down, Cohannet’s banks upon,
Spreads broad Pocasset, strong Apannow’s hold;
The bowmen there tread Massasoit’s land,
E’en to Seconnet’s billow-beaten strand.
XLIX.