Our anxious Founder.—“Thou dost speak,” he said,
“The words of wisdom, but these ears are dead;
XLIV.
“Dead to a Yengee’s voice. When did the tongue
Of the white stranger fail to speak most fair?
When did his actions not his speeches wrong,
And lay the falsehood of his bosom bare?
Fain would I die in peace, and leave this throng
To have their glory down the ages fare;
But still I feel the stranger’s grasping hand,