Chapter LXXII

Upon the cottage roof the Whip-poor-will
That night sang mournful to the conscious glade;
The lonely owl forsook her valley still,
And perched and hooted in the neighboring shade;
The wolf returned, and lapped the purling rill,
Sate on its marge, and at the cottage bayed;
From all its howling depths the desert came,
And seemed its lost dominion to reclaim.

CANTO NINTH.

[SCENES. Seekonk’s Stream and Banks--Whatcheer Cove and Shore--Mooshausick’s Vale, or Site of Providence.]

’Tis early morn; Pawtucket’s torrent roar,
A solemn bass to Nature’s anthem bold,
Alone wakes Williams’ ear; its currents pour
Along with foaming haste, where they have rolled
Ages on ages, fretting here from shore
The basin broad, and there ’twixt hill and wold
Furrowing their channel deep; far hastening on,
Now lost in shades, now glimmering in the sun.