Chapter XXXIX

The Priest’s forsaken lodge rose thereamid,
Beside a fountain on a verdant lawn,
Spacious as some great Sachem’s, and half-hid
In mantling vines wherewith it was o’ergrown;
And Williams thought of what his warrior did
On that dark bloody night, so direly known,--
Mourning the fate that caused the Sorcerer’s doom;
Yet sees its fruit, a temporary home.