And thirst like them for Narraganset’s blood?
Why has he Seekonk’s eastern border chose,
And not surveyed Mooshausick’s winding flood?
Its banks are green,—its forests waving fair,—
Its fountains cool, the deer abundant there.
VIII.
Williams.
Ne’er will I dwell among my brother’s foes,—
To make them friends is now thy brother’s toil;
Too weak I am to bend their battle bows,