She lean’d against the monarch’s knee,
And again she kiss’d his hand—
‘I’ve been to Paspahey, to see
‘That strange mysterious band,
‘That in the mighty shallop came,
‘Loaded with thunder loud,
‘And roll’d it out upon the bay,
‘As Okee rolls it from a cloud.
‘And in the river I beheld
‘Their shallop dark and tall,
‘And their werowance so stately stepp’d,
‘I knew him from them all.’
These words roused up the monarch’s blood,
And made it quicker flow;
He rose instinctive from his seat,
And firmly clasp’d his bow—
‘Thy spirit came from mine, my child,
‘As light comes from the sun;
‘None but a Powhatan would dare
‘To do what thou hast done.
‘Go, girl, arrange our council hall;
‘Prepare the fires to light,
‘For a deep and solemn council-talk
‘Our chiefs must hold to-night.’
VII.
The summer day glides slowly by;
Now golden gleams the western sky,
And twilight gray each valley fills,
And softly creeps upon the hills;
Now deep and deeper shadows fall,
And now within that trophied hall,
Flashing abroad on the brow of night,
The monarch’s council-fire burns bright.
The grim and murky spoils of war,
That hung in rude disorder there,
Glared out from pillar, wall, and nook,
And wild and hideous semblance took.
Some were bequeath’d from sire to son,
But Powhatan the most had won—
Huge tomahawks, and war-clubs stout,
And wampum belts, hung round about,
And mantles of skin, and robes of feather,
Piled in promiscuous heaps together.
VIII.
Aloft in stern and regal state,
Upon his throne the monarch sate;
His war-club rested in his hand,
The ensign of his high command;
His trusty bow, against the wall,
Lean’d, ready at a moment’s call;
Over his shoulders, lightly flung,
His feathery mantle graceful hung;
Rich skins beneath his feet were spread,
And eagle plumes waved o’er his head.
His chiefs and warriors soon were seen,
Like silent spectres, gliding in,
And, ranged in circle round the room,
Each dark brow knit in threatening gloom,
With blade in belt and bow in hand,
Like sculptured monuments they stand.
There waved full many a lofty crest,
But a raven-plume o’ertopp’d the rest,
For first and tallest in the ring,
Like giant, stood Pamunky’s king.
No word in that still hall was spoke,
Till Powhatan the silence broke,
And call’d a guardman to his side,
His faithful Rawhunt, true and tried,
And bade him the rites in order set,
And bring the lighted calumet.
Then through that long and mystic reed,{[10]}
Emblem of many a sacred deed,
Three solemn draughts the monarch drew,
And the smoke in three directions blew.
The first curl’d high above his head,
In homage of that spirit dread
Who ruleth in the upper air,
And maketh every man his care.
The second gently sunk to earth,
Where food and fruits and flowers have birth,
A thankful offering to that power,
Who both at morn and evening hour,
Opens his bounteous hand to bless
With life and health and happiness.
The third abroad on the air was blown,
A solemn token to make known
Unbroken faith to all who fain
Would still be bound in friendship’s chain.
Then, one by one, that warrior train
Smoked the long calumet again,
And gravely pass’d it round the ring,
Till, last of all, Pamunky’s king
Thrice drew the reed in princely pride,
Then laid it silently aside.
IX.
To Powhatan now every chief
Turn’d his dark eye, while slow and brief,
As monarch speaketh to a man,
The council-talk he thus began.
‘Chiefs and warriors! let your ears
‘Be open to the words we say;
‘The cloud, that rests upon our land,
‘Portends a troubled day.
‘Chiefs and brothers! come what will,
‘Keep ye the chain of friendship bright,
‘And if the hour of conflict come,
‘Then hand to hand, like brothers, fight.
‘Chiefs and brothers! ye have heard
‘The strange events of yesterday,
‘The mighty shallop, full of men,
‘That thunder’d on our ocean bay,
‘Then boldly up our river went,
‘And stopp’d at Paspahey;
‘Now listen while Pamunky’s king
‘Reveals the tidings of to-day.’
X.
Like heavy cloud, portending storm,
Slow rose Pamunky’s giant form;
And laying bow and war-club by,
On Powhatan he turn’d his eye,
And while the chiefs in silence hung
On every accent of his tongue,
With flashing eye and bearing bold
He thus the day’s adventure told.
‘Ere left the lark her grassy nest
‘To pour her song upon the air,
‘I call’d my warriors from their rest,
‘And bade them for the woods prepare.
‘Each one his stoutest war-club took,
‘And each his trustiest bow;
‘His hatchet above his girdle hung,
‘His scalping-knife below;
‘And well prepared for deadly fight,
‘If foes should cross our way,
‘Through forests dark we bent our course
‘To the groves of Paspahey.
‘And when we came to the river side
‘The sun was shining bright,
‘And the arms of a hundred pale-face men
‘Were gleaming in the light;
‘And thick upon the shallop’s deck
‘Like forest trees they stood,
‘And a hundred faces, pale as death,
‘Look’d out upon the wood.
‘But bravely to the river’s brink
‘I led my warrior train,
‘And face to face, each glance they sent,
‘We sent it back again.
‘Their werowance look’d stern at me,
‘And I look’d stern at him,
‘And all my warriors clasp’d their bows
‘And nerved each heart and limb;
‘I raised my heavy war-club high,
‘And swung it fiercely round,
‘And shook it toward the shallop’s side,
‘Then laid it on the ground.
‘And then the lighted calumet
‘I offer’d to their view,
‘And thrice I drew the sacred smoke
‘And toward the shallop blew;
‘And as the curling vapor rose,
‘Soft as a spirit prayer,
‘I saw the pale-face leader wave
‘A white flag in the air.
‘Then launching out their painted skiff,
‘They boldly came to land
‘And spoke us many a kindly word,
‘And took us by the hand,
‘Presenting rich and shining gifts,
‘Of copper, brass, and beads,
‘To show that they were men like us,
‘And prone to generous deeds.
‘We held a long and friendly talk,
‘Inquiring whence they came,
‘And who the leader of their band,
‘And what their country’s name;
‘And how their mighty shallop moved
‘Across the boundless sea,
‘And why they touch’d our great king’s land
‘Without his liberty.
‘They say that far beyond the sea
‘A pleasant land appears,
‘And there their sires have made their graves
‘For many a hundred years;
‘And there the men are numerous
‘As leaves upon the trees,
‘And a thousand mighty shallops there
‘Are moved by every breeze.
‘They call this bright land England,
‘’Tis surrounded by the sea;
‘King James they call their werowance,
‘And a mighty chief is he;
‘And brave Sir John is the name they give
‘To the leader of this band,
‘Who only ask to rest awhile
‘On Powhatan’s wide land,
‘To trade with us for skins and furs,
‘And corn to make them bread,
‘And a space to build their cabins,
‘And a spot to bury their dead.
‘If Powhatan will grant them this,
‘We have no cause to fear,
‘But loads of shining treasures
‘Shall enrich us every year.’