frowning fiercely, departed. 
  Alden was left alone.  He heard the clank of the scabbard
  Growing fainter and fainter, and dying away in the distance. 
  Then he arose from his seat, and looked forth into the darkness,
  Felt the cool air blow on his cheek, that was hot with the insult, 435
  Lifted his eyes to the heavens, and, folding his hands as in childhood,
  Prayed in the silence of night to the Father who seeth in secret. 
  Meanwhile the choleric Captain strode wrathful away to the council,
  Found it already assembled, impatiently waiting his coming;
  Men in the middle of life, austere and grave in deportment, 440
  Only one of them old, the hill that was nearest to heaven,
  Covered with snow, but erect, the excellent Elder of Plymouth.[33]
  God had sifted three kingdoms to find the wheat for this planning,
  Then had sifted the wheat, as the living seed of a nation;
  So say the chronicles’ old, and such is the faith of the people! 445
  Near them was standing an Indian, in attitude stern and defiant,
  Naked down to the waist, and grim and ferocious in aspect;
  While on the table before them was lying unopened a Bible,
  Ponderous, bound in leather, brass-studded, printed in Holland,
  And beside it outstretched the skin of a rattlesnake glittered, 450
  Filled, like a quiver, with arrows:  a signal and challenge of warfare,
  Brought by the Indian, and speaking with arrowy tongues of defiance. 
  This Miles Standish beheld, as he entered, and heard them debating
  What were an answer befitting the hostile message and menace,
  Talking of tins and of that, contriving, suggesting, objecting; 455
  One voice only for peace, and that the voice of the Elder,
  Judging it wise and well that some at least were converted,
  Rather than any were slain, for this was but Christian behavior! 
  Then out spake Miles Standish, the stalwart Captain of Plymouth,
  Muttering deep in his throat, for his voice was husky with anger, 460
  “What! do you mean to make war with milk and the water of roses? 
  Is it to shoot red squirrels you have your howitzer planted
  There on the roof of the church, or is it to shoot red devils? 
  Truly the only tongue that is understood by a savage
  Must be the tongue of fire that speaks from the mouth of
      the cannon!” 465
  Thereupon answered and said the excellent Elder of Plymouth,
  Somewhat amazed and alarmed at this irreverent language: 
  “Not so thought Saint Paul, nor yet the other Apostles;
  Not from the cannon’s mouth were the tongues of fire they
      spake with!"[34]
  But unheeded fell this mild rebuke on the Captain, 470
  Who had advanced to the table, and thus continued discoursing: 
  “Leave this matter to me, for to me by right it pertaineth. 
  War is a terrible trade; but in the cause that is righteous,
  Sweet is the smell of powder, and thus I answer the challenge!”