And bygone pains enhance their joys the more;
But yet one lingering fear of frowning fate,
Our Founder’s bosom lightly brooded o’er—
No Indian throng, as promised by the seer,
Had bid them welcome with Whatcheer! Whatcheer!
VII.
But let it pass;—perchance it was a dream;
His thoughts seemed wandering or disturbed at best,
When stood or seemed to stand, in doubtful gleam,
That form scarce earthly, and his ears addrest;—