Chapter LVII

“Waban!” at length he said, “I grieve to see
That all I sowed fell on a barren rock;
How could my brother hope to gladden me
By such a deed? Thou dost thy sachem shock!
O! from thy savage nature try to flee;--
Lay down thy murderous knife and tomahawk,
And dwell on better themes. New toils invite,
And high rewards my brother shall requite.