Here their lithe limbs the swarthy wrestlers ply,—
They tug, they writhe, they sweat, crowds shout around;
And there the circles watch the doubtful game,
Or greet the victor with their loud acclaim.
XX.
Then Williams saw, beneath a shady bower,
Miantonomi, Sachem young and brave,
And Massasoit, Haup’s kind Sagamore,
And old Canonicus, so wise and grave,
Known by his peaceful pipe and tresses hoar,