Where the red warriors wheel the martial dance;
A while the thick young cedars round them made
A cover that concealed their still advance;
But passing quickly through the denser shade,
Sire Williams sent abroad his searching glance
O’er the rude camp, and saw, on every side,
Around the blazing fires the dancers glide.
Hundreds on hundreds thronged the glade, I ween,
With painted visages and pluméd hair;