University of Virginia Library

M. J. Antonomies the Grand Sachems Death.

A Breathing time of silence had my Pen,
But finds a scribling matter once agen.
In Narraganset Land near Paquetuck,
The English with the Natives try a pluck:
Here in an Isthmus pitcht the foes their tents,
Here quartered their naked Regiments:
Some grope for Lobsters, some to clamp banks run,
And some lie beautifying in the Sun:
Some sit in Council, others treating squaws;
Some grinding parcht Corn with the Querns their Jawes.
Some sing their Captains dooms, others are lousing,
Some pawawing, some wenching, and some drousing.
And herein ANTONOMIE among the rest,
All up in Wampam Belts, most richly drest:
Sate as the Dagon of their motley crew,
Not thinking that his downfal would insue:
Whose Pedegree should I presume to write,
To Hesiods Theognis run I might.
Our Checquer'd Bands of Whites and Tawnies joyn'd,
These in their close Retirements quickly find;
Down to the Earth our Martial gallants fall,
And like to insects on the Natives crawl.
Old UNCUS tribe who ever had been true,
Upon the moving Forrest nimbly flew.
The English them as they are flying meet,
And multitudes they tumble at their feet.
Some captiv'd, others wounded, many slain,
Like Hydra's Heads, yet ne'r the less remain.
And here that Lucifer receives defeat,
Who scorns with any less then Princes treat.
What Necklace could New-England better please,
Then Heads strung thick upon a thred of these,
Him they dispatch, and hundreds more are hurl'd,
Him to attend upon in th'other world:
Whose hunting bouts will heavily go on,
His Legs must stay until the Head come on.

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That phansie which so stifly they maintain,
That such on hunting go who hence are slain:
I hope ere long will quite convinced be,
By many Heads chopt off as fine as he:
His (a brave present) kist the grateful Hand,
Of Dons who in our Southern Tract command.