I

Grows the great deed, though none Shout to behold it done! To the brave deed done by night Heaven testifies in the light

Stealthy and swift as a dream, Crowding the breast of the stream, In their paint and plumes of war And their war-canoes four score,

They are threading the Oolastook, Where his cradling hills o’erlook. The branchy thickets hide them; The unstartled waters guide them.