Chapter LXXVII

“My brother gives with palm expanded wide,”
The Sachem said, “but with a closing hand
Our gifts are half received and half denied;
Ha! was he born in the white stranger’s land?
My brother’s corn shall wave by Seekonk’s tide--
My brother’s town shall on its margin stand;
And on the deer-skin, tested by my bow,
My painted voice shall talk, and to far ages go.”