To grasp their weapons all that gathering through;
When, lo! they opened like a parting tide,
And once again their murmurs lulled and died.
VII.
And Williams paused; for, from the severed crowd,
A chief advancing trod the breathing plain;
Bold was his port, his bearing high and proud,
A lance of length did his right hand sustain;
The glittering wampum did his brows enshroud,
His nodding plumage wore a crimson stain;