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LXXVIII.
While thus they spake, the sun declining low,
In Narraganset's shades, half veiled his light;
On rapid pinions did the dark winged crow
And broad plumed eagle speed their homeward flight;
Warned by the signs, the twain, descending slow,
In converse grave, pass down the wooded height;
And, in the Sachem's sylvan palace, share
Respite from hunger, toil, and present care.
