Their eyes stared fiercely through the wreathing smoke,
And luridly their gaudy plumage played,
The while, obscured, they did scarce earthly look,
But seemed like fiends in their infernal shade;
And still the vapors rose and naught they spoke,
Till Massasoit thus the silence broke:
XIII.
“And is my brother here? What does he seek?
Tow’rd Wamponand, upon the passing wing,
A singing bird there went; its opening beak