But that no guilty stain, on Seekonk’s wave,
Rebuke the Pokanoket Chief or thee,—
The work, perchance, of darts from heedless bows,
Confounding pale-faced friends with warring foes.
XXX.
“My motives these; now let the wise chief tell
What wrongs he suffers; what redress he seeks.
Do not his buried kindred slumber well?
What murdered victim’s ghost for vengeance shrieks—
Sends through the echoing woods the warrior’s yell,