Part 2

‘Soon as the morning sun was seen ‘On bright Pamunky’s banks of green, ‘The silent groves, where sleep the deer, ‘Waked with our hunters’ merry cheer. ‘With echoing whoop and loud halloo ‘We startled soon a nimble doe; ‘And forth she sprang from her darksome lair, ‘And tossing high her head in air, ‘With springing bound, and forward flight, ‘Was soon again beyond our sight. ‘But still, as fleetly on she flew, ‘From hill to hill we caught a view, ‘Nor lost her course, till on the shore ‘Where Chesapeake’s white surges roar, ‘We stood--and saw a sight display’d, ‘That fill’d us with amaze; ‘The deer unhunted sought the shade, ‘And we were left to gaze. ‘Spirits that dart athwart the sky, ‘When forked lightnings gleam and fly; ‘And gods that thunder in the air, ‘And cleave the oak and kill the bear; ‘And beings that control the deep, ‘Where crocodiles and serpents sleep; ‘And powers that on the mountains stand, ‘With storm and tempest in their hand; ‘And forms that ride on cloudy cars, ‘And sail among the midnight stars;-- ‘The whole dread group that move in might, ‘Unless some spell deceived our sight, ‘We surely saw in league to-day ‘On the bright bosom of the bay. ‘Whether for sport, in social mood, ‘They met to sail upon the flood; ‘Or bent on deeds of high design, ‘They sought their forces to combine; ‘Whether they came to blast or bless, ‘We did not learn, nor could we guess. ‘Their shallop was a stately thing, ‘And gaily moved in lofty pride, ‘Like a mountain eagle on the wing, ‘Or swan upon the river tide. ‘And three tall spires the shallop bore, ‘That tower’d above our forest trees, ‘And each a blood-red streamer wore, ‘That floated idly on the breeze. ‘And thrice in awful majesty ‘They sail’d across that deep, broad bay; ‘And as they turn’d from either shore, ‘We heard the heavy thunders roar, ‘And saw the lightnings flashing wide ‘From out their mammoth shallop’s side; ‘And then a cloud of smoky hue ‘Around her waist arose to view; ‘And rolling on the wind away, ‘It floated slowly down the bay. ‘And while in ambush near the beach ‘We watch’d the course the shallop took, ‘She came within an arrow’s reach; ‘And then it seem’d as though she shook ‘Her white wings, like a hovering bird ‘That stoops to light upon a spray; ‘And sounds of voices now were heard, ‘But motionless the shallop lay. ‘And then a little skiff was seen, ‘And some were paddling toward the shore; ‘Their form was human, but their mein ‘Semblance of higher lineage bore; ‘And one might read upon their face ‘Pale proofs of an unearthly race. ‘And when they brought their skiff to land, ‘They knelt them down upon the sand ‘Of that smooth beach; and on the sky ‘They fix’d a thoughtful, gazing eye, ‘And long they look’d, and long they knelt, ‘And loud they talk’d, as though there dwelt ‘Some viewless spirits above their head, ‘Who listen’d to the words they said. ‘And when they rose from bended knee, ‘They stood beneath a birchen tree, ‘And tore up a turf, and a branch they broke, ‘And utter’d strange and uncouth names; ‘But all we learn’d, of the words they spoke, ‘Was “England and King James.” ‘Then back as they came we saw them glide ‘O’er the rippling wave in their painted skiff, ‘And they clomb up the mammoth shallop’s side, ‘That darken’d the wave like a mountain cliff. ‘And soon she was moving away on the flood, ‘Like a cloud which the mountain breezes fan, ‘And with wings of white and streamers of blood, ‘She bent her course to Kecoughtan.[E] ‘Then up the wave that bears thy name ‘Along by the winding shore she swept; ‘And crouching low, as if for game, ‘Through thickets watchfully we crept; ‘Till by that jutting point of land, ‘Where the weary waters lingering go, ‘And Paspahey’s[F] tall forests stand, ‘And their shadows on the eddy throw, ‘We saw that shallop moor’d and still, ‘And a throng so awful lined the shore, ‘The very blood in our veins run chill. ‘No longer we staid, nor witness’d more, ‘But fled, great werowance,[G] to thee, ‘To make this strange adventure known; ‘For warriors brave, and subjects free, ‘And courage, and power, are all thine own. ‘The thoughts that in thy bosom flow, ‘Monarch, now bring before the light; ‘Thy will and counsel I would know, ‘But I may not tarry here to-night, ‘For back to Pamunky my hunters have gone, ‘And I must be there by the morning’s dawn.’

XII.

Thus spoke Pamunky’s wily king; The torch-light high was flickering; On Powhatan’s stern face it gleams, But from his eye shot fiercer beams, That told the fire, which vigor lit In his day of strength, was burning yet. The monarch rose in musing mood, And silent for a moment stood, Wrapp’d in himself, as though he sought To grasp some hidden, vanish’d thought, Which, rayless, vague, and undefined, Still seems to flit before the mind, A form unseen--But now a glow Of animation rose, as though That vanish’d thought in brightness broke At once upon his view; and then, Turning toward his guest again, Thus to the chief he spoke.

XIII.

‘Brother, a mist is round my head, ‘And darkness in my path is spread; ‘Thy tale is like the clouds of night; ‘My thoughts are stars that shed no light; ‘And much I marvel what may mean ‘This wondrous vision thou hast seen. ‘That pale-face throng, with forms like ours, ‘Are not the band of secret powers, ‘Which thou hast fancied them to be; ‘This would not solve the mystery, ‘For spirits of fire and spirits of flood ‘Are foes that seek each other’s blood. ‘My thoughts are bent another way; ‘I hear a voice, that seems to say, ‘They are but men, perchance, who seek, ‘Along the shores of Chesapeake, ‘To plant a tree whose roots shall spread, ‘Broad and deep as that ocean bed, ‘And whose tall branches shall expand, ‘Till they o’ershadow all the land. ‘I hear a voice that says, _beware_, ‘Or thou wilt tread upon a snare; ‘There is a way thou must not pass, ‘A serpent lieth in the grass; ‘There is a fountain thou must shun, ‘For streams of poison from it run; ‘There is a shade thou must not seek, ‘For round it plays the lightning streak. ‘I hear a voice in whispers low, ‘That speaks of carnage, death, and wo, ‘Of injured rights and ruthless power, ‘And tempest-clouds, which soon shall lower:-- ‘Some pestilence infects the air; ‘I hear a voice that says, _beware_. ‘Hast thou not heard our fathers tell ‘What once, in ages past, befell ‘Our race, what time Missouri’s tide ‘Beheld them sporting by its side? ‘While they in fearless quiet slept, ‘A secret foe among them crept, ‘And, ere they dream’d of coming scath, ‘Had wellnigh struck the blow of death. ‘Harmless at first he seem’d to be, ‘And weak as helpless infancy; ‘His face was bright with friendship’s smile, ‘But in his heart was blackest guile; ‘And soon to giant strength he grew, ‘And thunderbolts around him threw, ‘And many a death and many a wound ‘Among our sires he dealt around, ‘And drove them from their peaceful home, ‘Through forests deep and wild to roam. ‘But o’er his head a murky cloud ‘Came down upon him as a shroud, ‘And vengeance seized upon her prey ‘And hid him from the light of day. ‘The stubborn oak that stood in pride, ‘And all the thunderer’s wrath defied, ‘By one red lightning stroke was riven, ‘Like mist before the tempest driven. ‘The tribes collected in their might, ‘To glut themselves with wreakful fight, ‘And swift their darts of bloody vengeance hurl’d, ‘And Madoc and his host were wither’d from the world.{6} ‘Some race of men like these, I ween, ‘Those beings are, which thou hast seen; ‘And something whispers in my ear, ‘Those beings must not linger here. ‘And, chieftain, list now what I say; ‘Hear my direction, and obey. ‘When first to-morrow’s golden light ‘Beams on the sable brow of night, ‘What time the wild-birds wake the glen, ‘Collect thy wisest, bravest men, ‘And with them straight to Paspahey repair, ‘And learn both who and whence these strange intruders are. ‘Unto their pale-face leader show{7} ‘The pipe of peace and warlike bow;’ ‘Nor fail withal to let them plainly know, ‘We’ve calumets for friends, and arrows for a foe.’

XIV.

Here paused the sage, and waved his hand, The fiat of his high command-- ‘Monarch, thy will shall be obey’d,’ Was all the plumed chieftain said, As round his brawny limbs he drew{8} His feathery mantle, broad and blue, And left the hall with lofty mein, Plunged in the grove, nor more was seen.

END OF CANTO FIRST.

CANTO SECOND.

I.

Softly and light the moonbeams fell Upon that forest-cinctur’d cell, Whose wicker walls were mottled brown Where shadows of the trees came down, And gently moved and quiver’d there, Like spirits dancing in the air. A stout and trusty guard was placed{9} Around the lodge, whose hands embraced The battle-axe or bended bow, Ready to meet a coming foe; And silent as the stars of night They watch’d from dusk till dawning light. Hush’d were the echoes of the grove, Where feeding deer in quiet rove; The softly whispering zephyr’s breath Came by with a stillness next to death, And silence hover’d with noiseless wing Over the monarch slumbering. Slept Powhatan? Why think it strange? Terror in him could work no change; For he had seen too much of life To heed the approach of toil or strife; In perilous vicissitude grown old, He now could calmly rest though thunders round him roll’d.

II.

But o’er the monarch’s child, in vain, Sleep sought to hold her wonted reign. With active thought she ponder’d o’er The plumed chieftain’s evening lore, Till half it seem’d before her view Appear’d the strange unearthly crew; And that wild tale on her had wrought such power, That she with sleepless eye had pass’d the midnight hour. Forth in her airy summer dress, With footsteps light and echoless, All-unperceived she left the cell, By servant, sire, or sentinel. In such divine apparel seem’d That lovely night, you would have deem’d It had its bridal vesture on To wait and wed the coming dawn. Its moonlight robe flow’d rich and free, Thick set with star-embroidery, And round the earth and o’er the sky Hung like a garb of Deity. The pageant of that glorious night Might well be gazed on with delight, But still the loveliest object there Was that lone maiden, young and fair, Gliding abroad at such an hour, By forest tree and summer bower. On the distant groves of Paspahey Her eye was brightly turn’d, And to be where that land in dimness lay Her bosom as warmly burn’d. What though the way was lonely and far? The dread of the stilly night, Nor dark morass, had power to bar That maiden’s romantic flight; And when from the east the azure tide Of day came over the wild, There stood alone by the river side The monarch’s artless child. And she was gazing in wild surprise On a barque majestic and proud, Whose masts appear’d, to her wondering eyes, High towering up to the vaulty skies, And as deep in the waters bow’d.

III.

Not long she gazed on those masts so tall, And that ship so gallant and trim, For a hero’s form eclipsed them all, And her eyes were fix’d on him. And peering forth from a friendly screen Of spruce and darkling fir, She plainly beheld the stranger’s mein, But the stranger saw not her. With martial cap and coat of red, And bright sword at his side, He paced the deck with a princely tread, And the dark woods calmly eyed. But soon o’er forest, glade, and stream Darted the sun’s bright morning beam, And, glancing through her sheltering tree, Awoke that maiden’s revery. She started, for ’ twas now the hour When Opechancanough would come, And thrice in haste she left the bower To trace her pathless journey home; But thrice return’d, she knew not why, And, lingering, look’d with soul-lit eye Upon that stranger still; Nor wist she what should make a sigh Her throbbing bosom fill. But hark! a voice is on the breeze, The raven-crested chief is near, And, moving through the distant trees, His train of warriors now appear; And like a wild and startled fawn, Lightly that forest child has gone, Through dark morass, and grove, and glen, To seek her father’s home again.

IV.

At dawning Powhatan arose From calm and undisturb’d repose, And when his brief repast was done He summon’d forth his valiant son, Dark Nantaquas, of manly form, And soul with native courage warm, So nimble of foot and stout of limb, That few could wrestle or run with him. ‘List, Nantaquas--hear our command; ‘Take bow and hatchet in thy hand, ‘And a full quiver at thy back, ‘Lest foes may chance to cross thy track, ‘And haste thee to our chieftains all, ‘And each unto our council call. ‘Call Chesapeakes and Nansamonds, ‘And broad Potomac’s warlike sons, ‘And rouse the chiefs of every clan, ‘From Orapakes to Kecoughtan.’ Fleet Nantaquas his sire obey’d, And, in his warrior arms array’d, His quiver over his shoulders threw, And away on the wings of morning flew.

V.

Now Powhatan, in musing mood, Abroad upon the hill-side stood; Deep thoughts in his stern bosom burn’d, His eyes toward Paspahey were turn’d, Watching each quivering tree and bird, As if mysterious foes had stirr’d His calm old woods, where he had reign’d For years, despotic, unrestrain’d, And none had dared, or friend or foe, Against his will to come or go. His left hand clasp’d his bow new-strung, His hatchet from his belt was hung, Keen shafts his wolf-skin quiver press’d, And on his war-club lean’d his breast. Sudden a form glanced on his sight, At distance where the warm sun-light Pour’d through the trees its mellow ray, And flowers rejoiced at the coming day. And swiftly as that sun-light went His springing bow was up and bent: An arrow leapt into its place; The strain’d string almost touch’d his face, And every muscle, fix’d and still, Waited to do the monarch’s will. Again that form broke on his view, But ere the deadly arrow flew, His eagle eye had told him well ’ Twas his loved daughter--Nerveless fell His brawny arm, and o’er his frame A cold a sickly shuddering came, And reel’d his brain, and o’er his sight Came darkness like the depths of night. He rested on a fallen tree, And soon his child, on bended knee, Had clasp’d and kiss’d his aged hand, And met his eye with look so bland, It made the clouds from his brow depart, And quicken’d the life-blood in his heart. ‘Speak, semblance of thy mother, speak, ‘And tell where thou hast been; ‘I saw thee beyond the old oak tree, ‘On the farther side of the glen. ‘This is no time for a child like thee ‘To wander away from home; ‘Thou canst not tell what dangerous foes ‘Through our dark, deep forests roam. ‘So soon hast thou forgotten, child, ‘The tale of yesternight? ‘That shallop, and the pale-face men, ‘Who may in blood delight? ‘A thousand trophies of my power ‘Hang up in my council hall, ‘But sooner than trust thee abroad alone, ‘I’d sacrifice them all. ‘Dear Metoka, where hast thou been ‘Through woods so dark and wild, ‘Beyond the reach of thy father’s arm ‘To guard his gentle child?’

VI.

She lean’d against the monarch’s knee, And again she kiss’d his hand-- ‘I’ve been to Paspahey, to see ‘That strange mysterious band, ‘That in the mighty shallop came, ‘Loaded with thunder loud, ‘And roll’d it out upon the bay, ‘As Okee rolls it from a cloud. ‘And in the river I beheld ‘Their shallop dark and tall, ‘And their werowance so stately stepp’d, ‘I knew him from them all.’ These words roused up the monarch’s blood, And made it quicker flow; He rose instinctive from his seat, And firmly clasp’d his bow-- ‘Thy spirit came from mine, my child, ‘As light comes from the sun; ‘None but a Powhatan would dare ‘To do what thou hast done. ‘Go, girl, arrange our council hall; ‘Prepare the fires to light, ‘For a deep and solemn council-talk ‘Our chiefs must hold to-night.’

VII.

The summer day glides slowly by; Now golden gleams the western sky, And twilight gray each valley fills, And softly creeps upon the hills; Now deep and deeper shadows fall, And now within that trophied hall, Flashing abroad on the brow of night, The monarch’s council-fire burns bright. The grim and murky spoils of war, That hung in rude disorder there, Glared out from pillar, wall, and nook, And wild and hideous semblance took. Some were bequeath’d from sire to son, But Powhatan the most had won-- Huge tomahawks, and war-clubs stout, And wampum belts, hung round about, And mantles of skin, and robes of feather, Piled in promiscuous heaps together.

VIII.

Aloft in stern and regal state, Upon his throne the monarch sate; His war-club rested in his hand, The ensign of his high command; His trusty bow, against the wall, Lean’d, ready at a moment’s call; Over his shoulders, lightly flung, His feathery mantle graceful hung; Rich skins beneath his feet were spread, And eagle plumes waved o’er his head. His chiefs and warriors soon were seen, Like silent spectres, gliding in, And, ranged in circle round the room, Each dark brow knit in threatening gloom, With blade in belt and bow in hand, Like sculptured monuments they stand. There waved full many a lofty crest, But a raven-plume o’ertopp’d the rest, For first and tallest in the ring, Like giant, stood Pamunky’s king. No word in that still hall was spoke, Till Powhatan the silence broke, And call’d a guardman to his side, His faithful Rawhunt, true and tried, And bade him the rites in order set, And bring the lighted calumet. Then through that long and mystic reed,{10} Emblem of many a sacred deed, Three solemn draughts the monarch drew, And the smoke in three directions blew. The first curl’d high above his head, In homage of that spirit dread Who ruleth in the upper air, And maketh every man his care. The second gently sunk to earth, Where food and fruits and flowers have birth, A thankful offering to that power, Who both at morn and evening hour, Opens his bounteous hand to bless With life and health and happiness. The third abroad on the air was blown, A solemn token to make known Unbroken faith to all who fain Would still be bound in friendship’s chain. Then, one by one, that warrior train Smoked the long calumet again, And gravely pass’d it round the ring, Till, last of all, Pamunky’s king Thrice drew the reed in princely pride, Then laid it silently aside.

IX.

To Powhatan now every chief Turn’d his dark eye, while slow and brief, As monarch speaketh to a man, The council-talk he thus began. ‘Chiefs and warriors! let your ears ‘Be open to the words we say; ‘The cloud, that rests upon our land, ‘Portends a troubled day. ‘Chiefs and brothers! come what will, ‘Keep ye the chain of friendship bright, ‘And if the hour of conflict come, ‘Then hand to hand, like brothers, fight. ‘Chiefs and brothers! ye have heard ‘The strange events of yesterday, ‘The mighty shallop, full of men, ‘That thunder’d on our ocean bay, ‘Then boldly up our river went, ‘And stopp’d at Paspahey; ‘Now listen while Pamunky’s king ‘Reveals the tidings of to-day.’

X.