Cameos of American History - Williams at Mount Hope

My empty boat rocks in the river weeds shining,
The Bay lies below me full flowing and free,
I stand on Mount Hope as the day is declining,
That beautiful summit o'erlooking the sea.

Beyond, the green hills of Pocasset are glowing,
Afar are the groves of Sowamset ablaze,
And the old Kikemuit below me is flowing
Through meadowy miles of orchards and maize.

Here once red warriors were wont to assemble
Here lurid and ghostly their council fires shone,
Here the word of the chief made the ancient tribes tremble,
And the war-whoop rung out from Pometicom's throne.

Gone, gone are the tribes from the scenes that they cherished,
The forests no longer encompass the tide,
The happy flocks sleep where Pometicom perished,
And wanders the heron where Wetamoo died.

And here on this ocean mound silently lying
Where tidal waves falling the far seas intone,
Where the sail on the bay like the osprey is flying,
The olden tribes rest from their warfare unknown.
 
The mild air of spring-time embeds them in flowers,
The orioles here from the tropics return,
The grain ripens on them in midsummer hours,
And mellowing falls by the river sides burn.

Here came the lone exile from Salem aweary,
By Bigotry hated, lost, homeless and poor,
The outcast of faith, 'mid the snows falling dreary,
And here to his feet oped the birch palace door.

Here the red hand supplied what a white hand denied him,
Here he wrote in his mind, while the smoke o'er him curled,
With the prince at his knee, and the red king beside him,
The words that unfettered the souls of the world.

Here warmed by the fire of the Indian sages,
His thoughts o'er the tides of humanity ran,
And the grand parchment formed on whose luminous pages
Was written the law of the birthright of man.

My empty boat rocks in the river weeds shining,
I leave the sea summit and turn towards the sea,
Yet reluctant I leave, in the day-beams declining,
These hills where the Lord made humanity free.