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.