Chapter LXXI

Thus spoke our Sire, and now, with ready hand
And spirits lightened, Mary did prepare
For their departure to another land,--
Alas! they knew not how and knew not where.
At eventide, red Waban from the strand,
The children from the glade, with cheerless air
Revisited the cot.--One more sad night,
And thence they journey at the rising light.