Chapter XIV

While thus he ponders, down the stream he sees,
Where from th’ encroaching cove the wood retires,
Dark wreaths of smoke rise o’er the lofty trees,
And deems that there some village wakes its fires.
“Waban,” he says, “seest thou yon dusky breeze?
Say, from what town that curling smoke aspires?
What valiant sachem holds dominion there?
And what the number that he leads to war?”