Princess. By the spirit of my mother, I implore my father. Oh! if thou deliver me to the Susquehannock, think not thine eyes shall ever again behold me; the first kind stream that crosses our path shall be the end of my journey; my soul shall seek the soul of the mother that loved me, far beyond the mountains.
Powhatan. Daughter, mention not thy mother!
Princess. Her shade will pity her unhappy child, and I shall be at rest in her bosom.
[Weeping.
Powhatan. Rest in my bosom, my child! [She starts with joyful emotion.] Thou shalt not go from thy father.
Princess. Father; dear father!
[Seizing his hand.
Music. An Indian enters, bearing a red hatchet.
Indian. King!
Powhatan. Thou art of the train of the Susquehannock: speak.