Oh, could I reach the pitying Ear of Heaven,
And all my Soul evaporate in Sound,
'T would ask Forgiveness! but I fear too late;
And next I'd ask that you and these dear Babes
Might bear no Part in my just Punishment.
Who knows but by pathetic Prayers and Tears
Their savage Bosoms may relent towards you,
And fix their Vengeance where just Heaven points it?
I still will hope, and every Motive urge.
Should I succeed, and melt their rocky Hearts,
I'd take it as a Presage of my Pardon,
And die with Comfort when I see you live.
[Death halloo is heard without.
Mrs. Honnyman.
Hark! they are coming—Hear that dreadful Halloo.
Honnyman.
It is Death's solemn Sentence to us all;
They are resolv'd, and all Entreaty's vain.
Oh horrid Scene! how shall I act my Part?
Was it but simple Death to me alone!
But all your Deaths are mine, and mine the Guilt.
Enter Indians with stakes, hatchets, and firebrands.
Oh, horrid Preparation, more than Death!
Ponteach.
Plant down the Stakes, and let them be confin'd: