‘O, Matachanna, must I go
‘From this loved spot away?
‘No more among these green old trees,
‘With thee, dear sister, play?
‘No more upon the hill-side run,
‘And chase the butterfly,
‘Or down the shady valley see
‘The nimble deer dart by?
‘A pleasant thing it is to see
‘The lovely light of day,
‘When gentle Matachanna is
‘Companion of my way!
‘But away alone with a cruel one,
‘My day will turn to night,
‘And never more will Metoka
‘Behold the pleasant light.
‘But when, dear sister, I am gone,
‘Still love our greenwood bowers,
‘And plant around our lovely spring
‘The pretty summer flowers.
‘And love our father fervently,
‘And bless him every day,
‘And sometimes gently speak to him
‘Of her that’s far away—’
‘From this loved spot away?
‘No more among these green old trees,
‘With thee, dear sister, play?
‘No more upon the hill-side run,
‘And chase the butterfly,
‘Or down the shady valley see
‘The nimble deer dart by?
‘A pleasant thing it is to see
‘The lovely light of day,
‘When gentle Matachanna is
‘Companion of my way!
‘But away alone with a cruel one,
‘My day will turn to night,
‘And never more will Metoka
‘Behold the pleasant light.
‘But when, dear sister, I am gone,
‘Still love our greenwood bowers,
‘And plant around our lovely spring
‘The pretty summer flowers.
‘And love our father fervently,
‘And bless him every day,
‘And sometimes gently speak to him
‘Of her that’s far away—’
XI.
But hark! a shout comes on the air,
A war-cry loud and shrill;
It seems a shout of victory—
Again, and louder still.
Old Powhatan rush’d from the hall
With war-club in his hand,
And a hundred warriors seize their arms,
And round the old chief stand,
And listen to that coming shout,
That now rings loud and clear;
And soon from out the darkling grove
A warrior train appear.
‘Pamunky’s king!’ cried Powhatan,
‘’Tis Opechancanough;
‘I see his raven-plume on high,
‘His giant form below.
‘Now let a cry of welcome rise
‘Till hill and forest ring,
‘For a truer chief no tribe can boast,
‘Than brave Pamunky’s king.’
At once with one united voice
Their answering shout rose high,
And loud and long the echo swell’d,
Like an army’s battle-cry.
Pamunky led his warriors up,
Form’d in a hollow square,
With bowstrings drawn and arrows notch’d,
All pointing in with care,
To guard a prisoner, who with arms
Tight-pinion’d might be seen
Advancing with a stately step,
And calm and noble mein.
On either side three warriors stout
Held fast upon each arm,
With weapons ready for the death
Upon the least alarm.
‘Why come so late,’ said Powhatan,
‘Our festive rites to share?
‘And what brave captive hast thou brought
‘Amid thy warriors there?’
A war-cry loud and shrill;
It seems a shout of victory—
Again, and louder still.
Old Powhatan rush’d from the hall
With war-club in his hand,
And a hundred warriors seize their arms,
And round the old chief stand,
And listen to that coming shout,
That now rings loud and clear;
And soon from out the darkling grove
A warrior train appear.
‘Pamunky’s king!’ cried Powhatan,
‘’Tis Opechancanough;
‘I see his raven-plume on high,
‘His giant form below.
‘Now let a cry of welcome rise
‘Till hill and forest ring,
‘For a truer chief no tribe can boast,
‘Than brave Pamunky’s king.’
At once with one united voice
Their answering shout rose high,
And loud and long the echo swell’d,
Like an army’s battle-cry.
Pamunky led his warriors up,
Form’d in a hollow square,
With bowstrings drawn and arrows notch’d,
All pointing in with care,
To guard a prisoner, who with arms
Tight-pinion’d might be seen
Advancing with a stately step,
And calm and noble mein.
On either side three warriors stout
Held fast upon each arm,
With weapons ready for the death
Upon the least alarm.
‘Why come so late,’ said Powhatan,
‘Our festive rites to share?
‘And what brave captive hast thou brought
‘Amid thy warriors there?’
XII.
‘True, I am late,’ Pamunky said,
‘But my lateness to atone,
‘I bring you here a captive bound,
‘The mighty chief, Sir John.’
A moment, struck with deep surprise,
Each warrior held his breath,
And a stillness reign’d through all the crowd,
Like that in the halls of death.
First Powhatan at the prisoner glanced,
Then at Nemattanow,
Who look’d as though he’d sink to earth
With wonder, shame, and wo.
And when the first surprise was o’er,
The gathering throngs drew round,
And a mighty swell of triumph rose,
That shook the very ground.
Warrior and chief, and old and young,
Pour’d their full voices out,
And never did woods give echo back
To such a ringing shout.
When silence was again restored
The old chief waved his hand,
And with imperial look and tone,
To all gave this command.
‘The evening shades begin to fall,
‘Let noise and revel cease;
‘Our three days’ feasting now requires
‘A night of rest and peace.
‘The captive to the inner hall
‘Convey with special care,
‘And forty of our bravest men,
‘Till morning, guard him there.
‘To-morrow let our feast again
‘With double rites be crown’d,
‘And a double song of victory
‘Through all our tribes resound;
‘Then solemn council shall decide
‘What fate shall be prepared
‘For this proud chief, that in our realm
‘Our sovereign power has dared.
‘And thou, Nemattanow, shalt be—’
Here turn’d the monarch round,
But lo! the fierce Nemattanow
Was nowhere to be found.
His name was shouted on the air
A thousand times in vain,
And runners flew this way and that,
O’er rugged hill and plain;
And hall and lodge were search’d throughout,
And grove and glen explored,
But all the search till night set in
No tidings could afford.
‘But my lateness to atone,
‘I bring you here a captive bound,
‘The mighty chief, Sir John.’
A moment, struck with deep surprise,
Each warrior held his breath,
And a stillness reign’d through all the crowd,
Like that in the halls of death.
First Powhatan at the prisoner glanced,
Then at Nemattanow,
Who look’d as though he’d sink to earth
With wonder, shame, and wo.
And when the first surprise was o’er,
The gathering throngs drew round,
And a mighty swell of triumph rose,
That shook the very ground.
Warrior and chief, and old and young,
Pour’d their full voices out,
And never did woods give echo back
To such a ringing shout.
When silence was again restored
The old chief waved his hand,
And with imperial look and tone,
To all gave this command.
‘The evening shades begin to fall,
‘Let noise and revel cease;
‘Our three days’ feasting now requires
‘A night of rest and peace.
‘The captive to the inner hall
‘Convey with special care,
‘And forty of our bravest men,
‘Till morning, guard him there.
‘To-morrow let our feast again
‘With double rites be crown’d,
‘And a double song of victory
‘Through all our tribes resound;
‘Then solemn council shall decide
‘What fate shall be prepared
‘For this proud chief, that in our realm
‘Our sovereign power has dared.
‘And thou, Nemattanow, shalt be—’
Here turn’d the monarch round,
But lo! the fierce Nemattanow
Was nowhere to be found.
His name was shouted on the air
A thousand times in vain,
And runners flew this way and that,
O’er rugged hill and plain;
And hall and lodge were search’d throughout,
And grove and glen explored,
But all the search till night set in
No tidings could afford.
XIII.
Again the day is dawning,
And the revellers are out,
And their whooping and their cheering
Might be heard for miles about;
And the day is spent in feasting,
And ’tis joy and music all,
Save where the mighty monarch,
In his great council-hall,
In his royal robes is sitting,
And his war-chiefs round him wait,
To decide in solemn council
Their illustrious captive’s fate.
And the revellers are out,
And their whooping and their cheering
Might be heard for miles about;
And the day is spent in feasting,
And ’tis joy and music all,
Save where the mighty monarch,
In his great council-hall,
In his royal robes is sitting,
And his war-chiefs round him wait,
To decide in solemn council
Their illustrious captive’s fate.
XIV.
Though many honor’d brave Sir John
For his spirit bold and high,
The solemn council now decide
That brave Sir John must die;
For this alone, they deem’d, would serve
To appease great Okee’s wrath;
And safety to the monarch’s realm
Required the strange chief’s death.
So great a foe and terrible
Their tribes had never known:
Hence ’twas decreed, that in his fall,
Great Powhatan alone
Was worthy to inflict the blow
This mighty chief to slay;
And all demanded that the deed
Be done without delay.
For his spirit bold and high,
The solemn council now decide
That brave Sir John must die;
For this alone, they deem’d, would serve
To appease great Okee’s wrath;
And safety to the monarch’s realm
Required the strange chief’s death.
So great a foe and terrible
Their tribes had never known:
Hence ’twas decreed, that in his fall,
Great Powhatan alone
Was worthy to inflict the blow
This mighty chief to slay;
And all demanded that the deed
Be done without delay.
XV.
The monarch sitteth on his throne,
In his dignity array’d;
Mysterious power is in his eye,
That maketh man afraid;
The women of his court stand up
With awe behind the throne,
But his daughters in their beauty sit
On either hand alone;
While all around the spacious hall
Long rows of warriors stand,
With nodding war-plume on each head,
And each with weapon in his hand;
And scalps and trophies line the walls,
That fifty wars supplied,
And richest robes and shining belts
Appear on every side.
And all is placed in fit array
To take the captive’s eye,
When he should come within the hall
To be condemn’d and die—
For ’twas not meet to take the life
Of so great and strange a man,
Till he had seen the greatness too
Of great King Powhatan.
In his dignity array’d;
Mysterious power is in his eye,
That maketh man afraid;
The women of his court stand up
With awe behind the throne,
But his daughters in their beauty sit
On either hand alone;
While all around the spacious hall
Long rows of warriors stand,
With nodding war-plume on each head,
And each with weapon in his hand;
And scalps and trophies line the walls,
That fifty wars supplied,
And richest robes and shining belts
Appear on every side.
And all is placed in fit array
To take the captive’s eye,
When he should come within the hall
To be condemn’d and die—
For ’twas not meet to take the life
Of so great and strange a man,
Till he had seen the greatness too
Of great King Powhatan.
XVI.
Now through the festal crowds abroad
Heralds aloud make known,
That soon the great Sir John must die,
Before the monarch’s throne.
Hush’d is the song and ceased the dance,
And darkening throngs draw near,
In awful silence round the hall,
And bend a listening ear,
To catch the floating sounds that come,
Perchance the fatal blow,
Perchance the death-song of Sir John,
Or his dying shriek of wo.
A private door to that great hall
Is open’d slow and wide,
And a guard of forty men march in
With looks of lofty pride,
For in their midst that captive walks
With tightly pinion’d arm,
Whose very name had power to shake
The boldest with alarm.
The captive’s step is firm and free,
His bearing grave and high,
And calm and quiet dignity
Is beaming from his eye.
One universal shout arose
When first Sir John appear’d,
And all the gathering throng without
In answer loudly cheer’d.
And then the monarch waved his hand,
And all was still again;
And round the hall the prisoner march’d,
Led by the warrior train;
And thrice they went the circuit round,
That all might see the face
That bore such pale and spirit marks
Of a strange and mighty race.
Heralds aloud make known,
That soon the great Sir John must die,
Before the monarch’s throne.
Hush’d is the song and ceased the dance,
And darkening throngs draw near,
In awful silence round the hall,
And bend a listening ear,
To catch the floating sounds that come,
Perchance the fatal blow,
Perchance the death-song of Sir John,
Or his dying shriek of wo.
A private door to that great hall
Is open’d slow and wide,
And a guard of forty men march in
With looks of lofty pride,
For in their midst that captive walks
With tightly pinion’d arm,
Whose very name had power to shake
The boldest with alarm.
The captive’s step is firm and free,
His bearing grave and high,
And calm and quiet dignity
Is beaming from his eye.
One universal shout arose
When first Sir John appear’d,
And all the gathering throng without
In answer loudly cheer’d.
And then the monarch waved his hand,
And all was still again;
And round the hall the prisoner march’d,
Led by the warrior train;
And thrice they went the circuit round,
That all might see the face
That bore such pale and spirit marks
Of a strange and mighty race.
XVII.
In the centre of the hall is placed
A square and massive stone,
And beds of twigs and forest leaves
Are thickly round it strown;
And there a heavy war-club stands,
With knots all cover’d o’er;
It bears the marks of many wars,
Hard, smooth, and stain’d with gore.
It was the monarch’s favorite club,
For times of peril kept,
’Twas near him when upon the throne,
And near him when he slept.
No other hands had ever dared
That ponderous club to wield,
And never could a foe escape
When that club swept the field.
Now slowly to this fatal spot
They lead Sir John with care,
And bind his feet about with withes,
And lay him prostrate there;
And look and listen eagerly
For him to groan or weep;
But he lays his head down tranquilly,
As a child that goes to sleep.
The monarch with a stately step
Descendeth from the throne,
And all give back before the light,
From his fiery eye that shone.
He raiseth that huge war-club high;
The warriors hold their breath,
And look to see that mighty arm
Hurl down the blow of death—
A sudden shriek bursts through the air,
A wild and piercing cry,
And swift as light a form is seen
Across the hall to fly.
The startled monarch stays his hand,
For now, beneath his blow,
He sees his lovely Metoka
By the captive kneeling low.
Her gentle arm is round his head,
Her tearful eyes upturn’d,
And there the pure and hallow’d light
Of angel mercy burn’d.
Compassion lit its gentle fires{22}
In the breast of Powhatan;
The warrior to the father yields,
The monarch to the man.
Slowly his war-club sinks to earth,
And slowly from his eye
Recedes the fierce, vindictive fire,
That burn’d before so high.
His nerves relax—he looks around
Upon his warrior men—
Perchance their unsubdued revenge
His soul might fire again—
But no; the soft contagion spreads,
And all have felt its power,
And hearts are touch’d and passions hush’d,
For mercy ruled the hour.
A square and massive stone,
And beds of twigs and forest leaves
Are thickly round it strown;
And there a heavy war-club stands,
With knots all cover’d o’er;
It bears the marks of many wars,
Hard, smooth, and stain’d with gore.
It was the monarch’s favorite club,
For times of peril kept,
’Twas near him when upon the throne,
And near him when he slept.
No other hands had ever dared
That ponderous club to wield,
And never could a foe escape
When that club swept the field.
Now slowly to this fatal spot
They lead Sir John with care,
And bind his feet about with withes,
And lay him prostrate there;
And look and listen eagerly
For him to groan or weep;
But he lays his head down tranquilly,
As a child that goes to sleep.
The monarch with a stately step
Descendeth from the throne,
And all give back before the light,
From his fiery eye that shone.
He raiseth that huge war-club high;
The warriors hold their breath,
And look to see that mighty arm
Hurl down the blow of death—
A sudden shriek bursts through the air,
A wild and piercing cry,
And swift as light a form is seen
Across the hall to fly.
The startled monarch stays his hand,
For now, beneath his blow,
He sees his lovely Metoka
By the captive kneeling low.
Her gentle arm is round his head,
Her tearful eyes upturn’d,
And there the pure and hallow’d light
Of angel mercy burn’d.
Compassion lit its gentle fires{22}
In the breast of Powhatan;
The warrior to the father yields,
The monarch to the man.
Slowly his war-club sinks to earth,
And slowly from his eye
Recedes the fierce, vindictive fire,
That burn’d before so high.
His nerves relax—he looks around
Upon his warrior men—
Perchance their unsubdued revenge
His soul might fire again—
But no; the soft contagion spreads,
And all have felt its power,
And hearts are touch’d and passions hush’d,
For mercy ruled the hour.
XVIII.
The monarch gently raised his child,
And brush’d her tears away;
And call’d Pamunky to his side,
And bade without delay
To free the captive from his bonds,
And show him honors due,
And lead him to the festive hall
Their banquet to renew.
And brush’d her tears away;
And call’d Pamunky to his side,
And bade without delay
To free the captive from his bonds,
And show him honors due,
And lead him to the festive hall
Their banquet to renew.
XIX.
END OF CANTO FOURTH.
CANTO FIFTH.
I.
December’s sun is pale and low,
Chilly and raw the north winds blow,
Dark threatening clouds are floating by,
And Jamestown’s sons with sadden’d eye
Look out upon the dreary wild
Of woods and waters, where exiled,
And distant far from friends and home,
They see the storms of winter come.
One half their number they had lost,
Since on this wild and desert coast
They first set foot; and ere the spring
Fresh fruits and flowers again would bring,
They felt that others too must fall:
For though their number was but small,
Their store of food was smaller still;
And oft this thought a deadly chill
Sent to each heart: they saw the hour
Was coming soon, when famine’s power
Must sweep them off, as leaves are cast
On the cold earth by autumn’s blast.
But mid this gloom and prospect dread,
That o’er all hearts a sadness shed,
No matter by what foe assail’d,
Sir John’s brave spirit never quail’d.
Early and late he knew no rest;
He nursed the sick, sooth’d the distress’d,
Cheer’d the despairing, and anon,
With gun in hand, away has gone
To seek the wild duck on the wave,
Or game within the darksome wood,
The famish’d colonists to save,
And spread their common board with food.
Chilly and raw the north winds blow,
Dark threatening clouds are floating by,
And Jamestown’s sons with sadden’d eye
Look out upon the dreary wild
Of woods and waters, where exiled,
And distant far from friends and home,
They see the storms of winter come.
One half their number they had lost,
Since on this wild and desert coast
They first set foot; and ere the spring
Fresh fruits and flowers again would bring,
They felt that others too must fall:
For though their number was but small,
Their store of food was smaller still;
And oft this thought a deadly chill
Sent to each heart: they saw the hour
Was coming soon, when famine’s power
Must sweep them off, as leaves are cast
On the cold earth by autumn’s blast.
But mid this gloom and prospect dread,
That o’er all hearts a sadness shed,
No matter by what foe assail’d,
Sir John’s brave spirit never quail’d.
Early and late he knew no rest;
He nursed the sick, sooth’d the distress’d,
Cheer’d the despairing, and anon,
With gun in hand, away has gone
To seek the wild duck on the wave,
Or game within the darksome wood,
The famish’d colonists to save,
And spread their common board with food.
II.
One morning early, while the gray
And sleeping mist on the river lay,
Ere yet the sun from his ocean bed
Had tinged the distant hills with red,
In quest of game Sir John had gone
Far down the river vale alone;
And standing on a gentle height
He view’d the silver winding James—
What vision glances on his sight?
What sudden fire his cheek inflames?
Is that a sail? Is that a ship,
Glides slowly round the headland dim?
With straining eye and parted lip,
He breathless stands, with moveless limb,
And throws his eager look afar,
Like the quick shooting of a star.
A sail? a ship? He looks again—
It is, it is—he sees it plain;
He sees the sails, he sees the hull,
An English flag at mast-head flies:
And now his throbbing heart is full,
And tears are crowding to his eyes;
Those eyes which had not known a tear,
Before this hour, for many a year.
And sleeping mist on the river lay,
Ere yet the sun from his ocean bed
Had tinged the distant hills with red,
In quest of game Sir John had gone
Far down the river vale alone;
And standing on a gentle height
He view’d the silver winding James—
What vision glances on his sight?
What sudden fire his cheek inflames?
Is that a sail? Is that a ship,
Glides slowly round the headland dim?
With straining eye and parted lip,
He breathless stands, with moveless limb,
And throws his eager look afar,
Like the quick shooting of a star.
A sail? a ship? He looks again—
It is, it is—he sees it plain;
He sees the sails, he sees the hull,
An English flag at mast-head flies:
And now his throbbing heart is full,
And tears are crowding to his eyes;
Those eyes which had not known a tear,
Before this hour, for many a year.
III.
With a light heart, and step as light,
He soon retraced his homeward route,
And there the ship was full in sight,
And all the colonists were out
And gazing off upon the river.
With pious thankfulness some lift
Their eyes and hands to the great Giver
Of every good and perfect gift;
Some, wild with joy, run here and there,
Grasping each other’s eager hand;
Some with quick motion beat the air,
And some like moveless statues stand.
Slowly the ship comes sailing on,
And now she rides abreast the town;
The sailors up the shrouds have gone,
The ponderous anchor plunges down,
And curbs her gently to the breeze,
Like a proud steed that feels the bit;
And now she heads the rippling seas,
And her furling sails on the long yards flit.
A light boat launches from the shore,
Each oarsman nimbly plies his oar
Across the waters, bright and clear.
The tall ship rapidly they near,
And soon, half lost to view, they glide
To the deep shadow of her side,
Where the rocking boat seems but a speck;
Man after man mounts to the deck,
And here Sir John with joyous smile
Greets Newport from Britannia’s isle.
He soon retraced his homeward route,
And there the ship was full in sight,
And all the colonists were out
And gazing off upon the river.
With pious thankfulness some lift
Their eyes and hands to the great Giver
Of every good and perfect gift;
Some, wild with joy, run here and there,
Grasping each other’s eager hand;
Some with quick motion beat the air,
And some like moveless statues stand.
Slowly the ship comes sailing on,
And now she rides abreast the town;
The sailors up the shrouds have gone,
The ponderous anchor plunges down,
And curbs her gently to the breeze,
Like a proud steed that feels the bit;
And now she heads the rippling seas,
And her furling sails on the long yards flit.
A light boat launches from the shore,
Each oarsman nimbly plies his oar
Across the waters, bright and clear.
The tall ship rapidly they near,
And soon, half lost to view, they glide
To the deep shadow of her side,
Where the rocking boat seems but a speck;
Man after man mounts to the deck,
And here Sir John with joyous smile
Greets Newport from Britannia’s isle.
IV.
A thousand questions now are ask’d,
And a thousand answers given;
Sir John tells how with savages,
And famine, he has striven;
How in his light and open barge,
With scarce a dozen men,
He had scour’d the mighty Chesapeake,
Round all her shores had been,
And up the rivers from the bay
To where the waters fall,
And seen the wild and warlike tribes,
And dared the power of all.
And a thousand answers given;
Sir John tells how with savages,
And famine, he has striven;
How in his light and open barge,
With scarce a dozen men,
He had scour’d the mighty Chesapeake,
Round all her shores had been,
And up the rivers from the bay
To where the waters fall,
And seen the wild and warlike tribes,
And dared the power of all.
V.
Then Captain Newport told what joy
King James’s heart had known,
That such a goodly land as this
Was added to his throne;
And that to make the savage tribes
With English power content,
To their great chieftain, Powhatan,
King James by him had sent
Rich, royal presents, such as kings
Of power and dignity
Might to a royal brother make;
Gold rings, rich cutlery,
A robe of state of finest woof
And of a scarlet red,
And a sparkling crown thick-set with gems,
Fit for a monarch’s head.
And as the kings had worn no crowns
As yet in this new land,
It was King James’s special will,
And thus he gave command,
That Captain Newport and Sir John
This kingly crown should see
Placed on the head of Powhatan
With due solemnity.
Now on the shore in merry bands
Light-hearted sailors roam,
And listening ears of colonists
Are fill’d with news from home.
King James’s heart had known,
That such a goodly land as this
Was added to his throne;
And that to make the savage tribes
With English power content,
To their great chieftain, Powhatan,
King James by him had sent
Rich, royal presents, such as kings
Of power and dignity
Might to a royal brother make;
Gold rings, rich cutlery,
A robe of state of finest woof
And of a scarlet red,
And a sparkling crown thick-set with gems,
Fit for a monarch’s head.
And as the kings had worn no crowns
As yet in this new land,
It was King James’s special will,
And thus he gave command,
That Captain Newport and Sir John
This kingly crown should see
Placed on the head of Powhatan
With due solemnity.
Now on the shore in merry bands
Light-hearted sailors roam,
And listening ears of colonists
Are fill’d with news from home.
VI.
The council-hall of Powhatan
In quietness was closed;
And in his warmer winter lodge
The aged chief reposed:
And when the piercing northwest wind
The crevices came through,
He closer drew his robe of fur,
And fed his fire anew.
And when upon his cabin wall
His glowing fire grew bright,
And brighter still, betokening
The coming on of night,
The monarch took his usual round
Through hall and lodge and yard,
To see that all was well secured,
And set his nightly guard.
First to the east and then the west
He glanced his restless eye,
The trees were rocking in the wind,
Dark clouds were in the sky,
And well the experienced monarch saw
In their motion and their form,
And heard along the groaning hills,
The spirit of the storm.
In quietness was closed;
And in his warmer winter lodge
The aged chief reposed:
And when the piercing northwest wind
The crevices came through,
He closer drew his robe of fur,
And fed his fire anew.
And when upon his cabin wall
His glowing fire grew bright,
And brighter still, betokening
The coming on of night,
The monarch took his usual round
Through hall and lodge and yard,
To see that all was well secured,
And set his nightly guard.
First to the east and then the west
He glanced his restless eye,
The trees were rocking in the wind,
Dark clouds were in the sky,
And well the experienced monarch saw
In their motion and their form,
And heard along the groaning hills,
The spirit of the storm.
VII.
And as he look’d, and as he turn’d,
He saw a pale-face man—
How quick the leaping blood went through
The veins of Powhatan!
Changed in an instant was his form,
From a feeble man and old,
Slow moving in his furry robe,
To a warrior stout and bold.
His outer cloak was dash’d aside,
And left his shoulders bare;
No more he heard the whistling wind
Or felt the biting air;
His buskin’d feet were planted firm,
His heavy club swung light,
And had a thousand foes been there,
He was ready for the fight.
That pale-face man came out alone
From the moaning woods’ deep shade,
And still alone approach’d the lodge,
Nor hostile sign display’d;
But with a fearless air came up,
And with a stately stride,
And Powhatan and brave Sir John
Were standing side by side.
And now within the inner lodge
Together they retire,
And on the monarch’s furry couch
Sit by the glowing fire.
No word or look from Powhatan
Betray’d his secret thought,
Nor deign’d he to inquire what cause
His visiter had brought;
But sat and look’d him in the face
His guest’s deep thoughts to scan,
Until Sir John the silence broke,
And thus his speech began.
He saw a pale-face man—
How quick the leaping blood went through
The veins of Powhatan!
Changed in an instant was his form,
From a feeble man and old,
Slow moving in his furry robe,
To a warrior stout and bold.
His outer cloak was dash’d aside,
And left his shoulders bare;
No more he heard the whistling wind
Or felt the biting air;
His buskin’d feet were planted firm,
His heavy club swung light,
And had a thousand foes been there,
He was ready for the fight.
That pale-face man came out alone
From the moaning woods’ deep shade,
And still alone approach’d the lodge,
Nor hostile sign display’d;
But with a fearless air came up,
And with a stately stride,
And Powhatan and brave Sir John
Were standing side by side.
And now within the inner lodge
Together they retire,
And on the monarch’s furry couch
Sit by the glowing fire.
No word or look from Powhatan
Betray’d his secret thought,
Nor deign’d he to inquire what cause
His visiter had brought;
But sat and look’d him in the face
His guest’s deep thoughts to scan,
Until Sir John the silence broke,
And thus his speech began.
VIII.
‘Great werowance, I come to bring
‘A greeting kind and true
‘From great King James beyond the sea,
‘Who sends good-will to you.
‘He is a king all terrible,
‘With ships and wealth and power,
‘Sufficient to o’erwhelm your tribes
‘And slay them in an hour.
‘Let Manahocks and Manakins
‘And Powhatans combine,
‘They could not stand one day before
‘This mighty king of mine.
‘But yet his love to Powhatan
‘Is brotherly and pure;
‘And as a token that it will
‘Forever warm endure,
‘He sends you rich and royal gifts,
‘A robe of scarlet red,
‘A sparkling crown thick-set with gems,
‘Fit for a monarch’s head,
‘And other presents rich and rare,
‘As you shall see and know,
‘When to be crown’d in solemn form
‘To Jamestown you shall go.
‘He sent them in a mighty ship
‘By a captain of the sea,
‘Who has commission from our king,
‘In company with me,
‘To place the crown upon your head,
‘A deed to great kings done
‘In all the lands beyond the sea
‘To the rising of the sun.
‘And Captain Newport waits to know
‘What day you will be there,
‘That all things for the solemn rite
‘We duly may prepare.’
‘A greeting kind and true
‘From great King James beyond the sea,
‘Who sends good-will to you.
‘He is a king all terrible,
‘With ships and wealth and power,
‘Sufficient to o’erwhelm your tribes
‘And slay them in an hour.
‘Let Manahocks and Manakins
‘And Powhatans combine,
‘They could not stand one day before
‘This mighty king of mine.
‘But yet his love to Powhatan
‘Is brotherly and pure;
‘And as a token that it will
‘Forever warm endure,
‘He sends you rich and royal gifts,
‘A robe of scarlet red,
‘A sparkling crown thick-set with gems,
‘Fit for a monarch’s head,
‘And other presents rich and rare,
‘As you shall see and know,
‘When to be crown’d in solemn form
‘To Jamestown you shall go.
‘He sent them in a mighty ship
‘By a captain of the sea,
‘Who has commission from our king,
‘In company with me,
‘To place the crown upon your head,
‘A deed to great kings done
‘In all the lands beyond the sea
‘To the rising of the sun.
‘And Captain Newport waits to know
‘What day you will be there,
‘That all things for the solemn rite
‘We duly may prepare.’
IX.
Proudly the monarch raised his head,
And proudly turn’d his eye
Upon the spoils of many wars,
And scalps that hung on high;
And then his trusty bow and club
He haughtily survey’d,
And thus with stately air and tone
His brief reply he made.
‘If such rare presents have been sent
‘From your great king to me,
‘Remember too, I am a king,
‘And all this land you see,
‘And all these woods and groves are mine,
‘And the mighty rivers too,
‘That pour down from the mountain sides
‘And glide these valleys through.
‘And thirty tribes with all their chiefs
‘Their homage pay to me,
‘And fight my battles when I call—
‘Your captain of the sea
‘Should better know the place he fills:
‘His presents to bestow,
‘He may, when suits him, come to me;
‘To him I shall not go.’
And proudly turn’d his eye
Upon the spoils of many wars,
And scalps that hung on high;
And then his trusty bow and club
He haughtily survey’d,
And thus with stately air and tone
His brief reply he made.
‘If such rare presents have been sent
‘From your great king to me,
‘Remember too, I am a king,
‘And all this land you see,
‘And all these woods and groves are mine,
‘And the mighty rivers too,
‘That pour down from the mountain sides
‘And glide these valleys through.
‘And thirty tribes with all their chiefs
‘Their homage pay to me,
‘And fight my battles when I call—
‘Your captain of the sea
‘Should better know the place he fills:
‘His presents to bestow,
‘He may, when suits him, come to me;
‘To him I shall not go.’
X.
Sir John knew well the monarch’s pride
And firm unbending will,
And well he knew ’twere vain to seek
His purpose to fulfil;
He therefore urged his suit no more,
But at the chief’s request,
Consented to abide till morn,
And in his lodge to rest.
And soundly slept Sir John that night
Upon his deer-skin bed,
With hand upon his broadsword hilt
And pistol by his head.
And the first red morning ray that came,
Bright gleaming o’er the plain,
Beheld him on the forest route
To Jamestown’s homes again.
And firm unbending will,
And well he knew ’twere vain to seek
His purpose to fulfil;
He therefore urged his suit no more,
But at the chief’s request,
Consented to abide till morn,
And in his lodge to rest.
And soundly slept Sir John that night
Upon his deer-skin bed,
With hand upon his broadsword hilt
And pistol by his head.
And the first red morning ray that came,
Bright gleaming o’er the plain,
Beheld him on the forest route
To Jamestown’s homes again.
XI.
A week of winter storms had pass’d,
And brighter days now shone,
And Powhatan no longer sat
In his winter lodge alone,
But in his council-hall appear’d
Among his warriors bold;
And all his chiefs were gather’d there,
A council-talk to hold.
And long about those royal gifts
They talk’d with solemn air;
Gifts from a land beyond the sea,
Which only kings might wear;
And many questions had been raised,
And many doubts remain’d,
What secret charm for good or ill
Those wondrous gifts contain’d.
But ere those doubts were half resolved,
While yet the talk went on,
One of the outer guard rush’d in,
Exclaiming that Sir John
And fifty of his pale-face tribe,
All marching in a file
Across the woods, with shining arms,
Were now within a mile
Of the council-hall. An instant fire
Flash’d from each warrior’s eye,
But there was no tumultuous rush,
No shout or battle-cry;
With knitted brow and silent step
Each seized his club and bow,
And girded on his scalping-knife;
And now in one grim row,
A hundred warriors arm’d for death,
And led by their great king,
Before the council-hall appear,
And wait what fate may bring.
And brighter days now shone,
And Powhatan no longer sat
In his winter lodge alone,
But in his council-hall appear’d
Among his warriors bold;
And all his chiefs were gather’d there,
A council-talk to hold.
And long about those royal gifts
They talk’d with solemn air;
Gifts from a land beyond the sea,
Which only kings might wear;
And many questions had been raised,
And many doubts remain’d,
What secret charm for good or ill
Those wondrous gifts contain’d.
But ere those doubts were half resolved,
While yet the talk went on,
One of the outer guard rush’d in,
Exclaiming that Sir John
And fifty of his pale-face tribe,
All marching in a file
Across the woods, with shining arms,
Were now within a mile
Of the council-hall. An instant fire
Flash’d from each warrior’s eye,
But there was no tumultuous rush,
No shout or battle-cry;
With knitted brow and silent step
Each seized his club and bow,
And girded on his scalping-knife;
And now in one grim row,
A hundred warriors arm’d for death,
And led by their great king,
Before the council-hall appear,
And wait what fate may bring.
XII.
And soon the pale-face men came out,
And halted by the wood,
Their bright guns gleaming in their hands,
Facing the hall they stood,
While brave Sir John, like an armed knight,
March’d forward and alone,
And his errand and his company
To Powhatan made known.
He told him that his men had come
King James’s gifts to bear,
And that the captain of the sea
Stood with his warriors there;
And all things were in readiness,
If it pleased his sovereign will,
The high behest of great King James
In the crowning to fulfil.
A sharp glance then the monarch sent
To the borders of the wood,
And ask’d Sir John to point him out
Where that sea-captain stood.
And on him long and steadily
He fix’d his eagle ken,
To learn if that strange captain look’d
Like other pale-face men.
At last the monarch gave consent
For the gifts to be convey’d
To the council-hall: but only four
Of the armed men should aid
The captain and Sir John; the rest
Should strictly be compell’d
To stay beside the distant wood,
While the royal rite was held.
And halted by the wood,
Their bright guns gleaming in their hands,
Facing the hall they stood,
While brave Sir John, like an armed knight,
March’d forward and alone,
And his errand and his company
To Powhatan made known.
He told him that his men had come
King James’s gifts to bear,
And that the captain of the sea
Stood with his warriors there;
And all things were in readiness,
If it pleased his sovereign will,
The high behest of great King James
In the crowning to fulfil.
A sharp glance then the monarch sent
To the borders of the wood,
And ask’d Sir John to point him out
Where that sea-captain stood.
And on him long and steadily
He fix’d his eagle ken,
To learn if that strange captain look’d
Like other pale-face men.
At last the monarch gave consent
For the gifts to be convey’d
To the council-hall: but only four
Of the armed men should aid
The captain and Sir John; the rest
Should strictly be compell’d
To stay beside the distant wood,
While the royal rite was held.
XIII.
And now within the council-hall,
And by the monarch’s throne,
Around in rich profusion spread,
The royal presents shone.
There stood Sir John with four arm’d men,
And the captain of the sea,
But the monarch’s warriors in the hall
Were a hundred men and three.
The queens of twenty tribes appear,
And in their midst they bring
Two maidens bright to grace the scene,
The daughters of the king.
And there in his great dignity
Sat Powhatan alone,
In the broad circle that was made
Around the monarch’s throne;
And while his people peer’d and press’d
Those splendid gifts to see,
He never moved his princely eyes,
But kept his dignity.
And when Sir John the signal gave
For the monarch to come down,
And, standing by the throne, receive
The robe of state and crown,
With motion slow and lofty air
He stepp’d upon the floor,
And as he pass’d, with careless eye
He glanced the presents o’er.
And by the monarch’s throne,
Around in rich profusion spread,
The royal presents shone.
There stood Sir John with four arm’d men,
And the captain of the sea,
But the monarch’s warriors in the hall
Were a hundred men and three.
The queens of twenty tribes appear,
And in their midst they bring
Two maidens bright to grace the scene,
The daughters of the king.
And there in his great dignity
Sat Powhatan alone,
In the broad circle that was made
Around the monarch’s throne;
And while his people peer’d and press’d
Those splendid gifts to see,
He never moved his princely eyes,
But kept his dignity.
And when Sir John the signal gave
For the monarch to come down,
And, standing by the throne, receive
The robe of state and crown,
With motion slow and lofty air
He stepp’d upon the floor,
And as he pass’d, with careless eye
He glanced the presents o’er.
XIV.
Then took Sir John the robe of state
And gave it to the king;
And now with look of majesty
He eyed the curious thing;
And felt it o’er and o’er again—
As soft and fine it seems
As any beaver’s fur that lives
Beside his woodland streams.
And much the color fills his eye;
A shade so pure and bright,
In any work of art before,
Had never met his sight.
And now the captain and Sir John
The robe of state unfold,
With outstretch’d arms and lifted hands
Aloft the fabric hold;
And while the monarch’s noble form
They wrap the vesture round,
Its many broad and shining folds
Sweep gracefully the ground.
Stately the monarch walks the hall
And turns from side to side,
And all his men and warriors stand
And look with awe and pride.
And gave it to the king;
And now with look of majesty
He eyed the curious thing;
And felt it o’er and o’er again—
As soft and fine it seems
As any beaver’s fur that lives
Beside his woodland streams.
And much the color fills his eye;
A shade so pure and bright,
In any work of art before,
Had never met his sight.
And now the captain and Sir John
The robe of state unfold,
With outstretch’d arms and lifted hands
Aloft the fabric hold;
And while the monarch’s noble form
They wrap the vesture round,
Its many broad and shining folds
Sweep gracefully the ground.
Stately the monarch walks the hall
And turns from side to side,
And all his men and warriors stand
And look with awe and pride.
XV.
Then Newport lifted up the crown,
With sparkling gems that shone,
And told the monarch to kneel down
With hand upon the throne;
For this mysterious, sacred thing
Was a type of sovereignty,
And all great kings that had been crown’d,
Were crown’d on bended knee.
A strange look then the monarch gave
To the captain of the sea,
As though he comprehended not
This type of sovereignty;
And Newport long confronted him
With arguments profound,
To make him understand that kings
Must kneel when they are crown’d.
But still the monarch could not see
The force of what he said,
And to his labor’d argument
He gravely shook his head.
His iron knee had never learn’d
To any power to bow,
And ’twas not all the kings on earth
Could make him bend it now.
But glancing round upon his men,
Unbending still he stood,{23}
Upright in native dignity,
Like an old oak of the wood.
This trouble vex’d exceedingly
The captain of the sea,
Who tried by every art to gain
Some slight bend of the knee,
That he on his return might tell
King James, and tell him true,
That Powhatan unto the crown
Had paid the homage due.
But all in vain; the more he strove,
The firmer stood the king:
Example or persuasive skill
Could no compliance bring,
Till on his shoulders both his hands
With gentle force he laid,
And pressing forward, thought he saw
The monarch bend his head.
‘It is enough,’ the captain said;
‘To bow the head, or knee,
‘With equal honor vindicates
‘The type of sovereignty:’
And then upon that lofty brow
He placed the glittering thing,
And in King James’s stead pronounced
A blessing on the king.
With sparkling gems that shone,
And told the monarch to kneel down
With hand upon the throne;
For this mysterious, sacred thing
Was a type of sovereignty,
And all great kings that had been crown’d,
Were crown’d on bended knee.
A strange look then the monarch gave
To the captain of the sea,
As though he comprehended not
This type of sovereignty;
And Newport long confronted him
With arguments profound,
To make him understand that kings
Must kneel when they are crown’d.
But still the monarch could not see
The force of what he said,
And to his labor’d argument
He gravely shook his head.
His iron knee had never learn’d
To any power to bow,
And ’twas not all the kings on earth
Could make him bend it now.
But glancing round upon his men,
Unbending still he stood,{23}
Upright in native dignity,
Like an old oak of the wood.
This trouble vex’d exceedingly
The captain of the sea,
Who tried by every art to gain
Some slight bend of the knee,
That he on his return might tell
King James, and tell him true,
That Powhatan unto the crown
Had paid the homage due.
But all in vain; the more he strove,
The firmer stood the king:
Example or persuasive skill
Could no compliance bring,
Till on his shoulders both his hands
With gentle force he laid,
And pressing forward, thought he saw
The monarch bend his head.
‘It is enough,’ the captain said;
‘To bow the head, or knee,
‘With equal honor vindicates
‘The type of sovereignty:’
And then upon that lofty brow
He placed the glittering thing,
And in King James’s stead pronounced
A blessing on the king.