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.