Waban went foremost, upon nimble feet,
Through ancient grove and over woodland glade;—
His long black hair and blanket red, so fleet
He went, streamed backward in the breeze he made;
Often his form did out of sight retreat
Behind the crag—behind the thicket’s shade—
And then his voice, along the echoing wood,
Told when he paused, or where his way pursued.
XLIX.
At length upon Pawtucket’s marge they stood;