Those, with forebodings dread and brimful eyes,
Bade holy angels guard the destinies
Of one on whom had fallen the chrism of light
With unction pure; the youthful neophyte
Of that fair clime where millions yet unborn
Shall raise the choral hymn from eve till morn.
Mrs. M. M. Webster.
In 1616 Pocahontas was taken to England, where she was received with marked attention by the Queen and court. She renewed her acquaintance with Captain John Smith, who was busy weaving fairy tales about her, had her portrait painted and led a fashionable life generally. It did not agree with her, she developed consumption, and died at Gravesend, March 27, 1617.
THE LAST MEETING OF POCAHONTAS AND THE GREAT CAPTAIN
[June, 1616]
In a stately hall at Brentford, when the English June was green,
Sat the Indian Princess, summoned that her graces might be seen,
For the rumor of her beauty filled the ear of court and Queen.
There for audience as she waited, with half-scornful, silent air
All undazzled by the splendor gleaming round her everywhere,
Dight in broidered hose and doublet, came a courtier down the stair.
As with striding step he hasted, burdened with the Queen's command,
Loud he cried, in tones that tingled, "Welcome, welcome, to my land!"
But a tremor seized the Princess, and she drooped upon her hand.
"What! no word, my [Sparkling-Water]? must I come on bended knee?
I were slain within the forest, I were dead beyond the sea;
On the banks of wild Pamunkey, I had perished but for thee.
"Ah, I keep a heart right loyal, that can never more forget!
I can hear the rush, the breathing; I can see the eyelids wet;
I can feel the sudden tightening of thine arms about me yet.