Chapter XXII

“Waban,” said Williams, “we may venture now,
But pause ye short of the sure arrow’s flight;”
Instant the red man drove the foaming prow
Along the cleaving flood, and, at the sight
Of the red hosts of men, the rose’s glow
Fading at once left Mary’s cheek all white;
And sudden fears her children’s breasts surprise,
And, with their little hands, they veil their eyes.