A sweet repast, that woke devotion true;
For while he saw the soul constrained and bound,
With wings enthralled, but not her eagle view,
One pious prayer made every suffering light,—
That he might free and speed her heavenward flight.
LII.
The red man smoked his pipe, or trimmed the fire,
And to our Father many a story told
Of barbarous battles and of slaughter dire
That on Pawtucket’s marge befell of old;—