Pocahontas. Father, O father!
Smith. Had not your people first beset me, king,
I would have prov'd a friend and brother to them;
Arts I'd have taught, that should have made them gods,
And gifts would I have given to your people,
Richer than red men ever yet beheld.
Think not I fear to die. Lead to the block.
The soul of the white warrior shall shrink not.
Prepare the stake! amidst your fiercest tortures,
You'll find its fiery pains as nobly scorned,
As when the red man sings aloud his death-song.
Pocahontas. Oh! shall that brave man die!
Music. The King motions with his hand, and Smith is led to the block.
Miami. [To executioners.] Warriors, when the third signal strikes, sink your tomahawks in his head.
Pocahontas. Oh, do not, warriors, do not! Father, incline your heart to mercy; he will win your battles, he will vanquish your enemies! [First signal.] Brother, speak! save your brother! Warriors, are you brave? preserve the brave man! [Second signal.] Miami, priest, sing the song of peace; ah! strike not, hold! mercy!
Music. The third signal is struck, the hatchets are lifted up: when the Princess, shrieking, runs distractedly to the block, and presses Smith's head to her bosom.
White man, thou shalt not die; or I will die with thee!
Music. She leads Smith to the throne, and kneels.
My father, dost thou love thy daughter? listen to her voice; look upon her tears: they ask for mercy to the captive. Is thy child dear to thee, my father? Thy child will die with the white man.