Had by his sufferings and his toils been stayed;
And as he mused, his hand the Sachem pressed,
For like emotions swelled his rugged breast.
LXXV.
“And oh!” he cried, “what can the Sachem do?
How can he give to Winiams recompense?
Our foes were many, and our warriors few,
But Winiams came, and he was our defence;
Go, brother, plant—go, plant our forest through—
All hast thou won by thy benevolence;