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Captain Smith, from the foaming seas, From pirates, and shipwreck, and miseries, In a French lady's arms found a haven of ease; Her name--pshaw! from memory quite gone 't has.
And on this savage sh.o.r.e, Where his faulchion stream'd with gore, His n.o.ble heart The savage dart Had quiver'd through; But swifter flew To his heart the pretty princess Pocahontas.
[_Exit WALTER._
_Enter KATE._
GERALDINE. Now, brother page--
KATE. Dear mistress, I have found My faithful Larry.
GERALDINE. Happy girl! and I Hope soon to meet my heart's dear lord, my Percy.
Hist! the lord governor--
KATE. He little thinks Who is the page he loves so--
GERALDINE. Silence.
KATE. Mum.
_Enter DELAWAR, WALTER, LARRY, &c._
DELAWAR. Each n.o.ble act of his that you recite Challenge all my wonder and applause.
Your captain is a brave one; and I long To press the hero's hand. But look, my friends, What female's this, who, like the swift Camilla, On airy step flies. .h.i.therward?
WALTER. My lord, This is the lovely princess you have heard of; Our infant colony's best patroness; Nay, sir, its foster-mother.
DELAWAR. Mark how wild--
_Music. The PRINCESS enters, with wild anxiety in her looks; searches eagerly around for SMITH and ROLFE._
DELAWAR. Whom do you look for, lady?
PRINCESS. They are gone!
Gone to be slaughter'd!
WALTER. If you seek our captain, He has departed for your father's banquet.
PRINCESS. Then they have met, and they will both be lost, My lover and my friend. O! faithless path, That led me from my lover! Strangers, fly!
If you're the white man's friends--
DELAWAR. Lady, we are.
PRINCESS. Then fly to save them from destruction!
DELAWAR. How?
PRINCESS. Inquire not; speak not; treachery and death Await them at the banquet.
DELAWAR. Haste, my friends, Give order for immediate departure.
PRINCESS. E'en now, perhaps, they bleed! O lover! brother!
Fly, strangers, fly!
_Music. Drum beats; a bustle; scene closes._
SCENE IV. _At Werocomoco; banquet. SMITH, ROLFE, PERCY, NANTAQUAS, POWHATAN, &c., seated. GRIMOSCO, MIAMI and a number of INDIANS attending._
POWHATAN. White warriors, this is the feast of peace, and yet you wear your arms. Will not my friends lay by their warlike weapons? They fright our fearful people.
SMITH. Our swords are part of our apparel, king; Nor need your people fear them. They shall rest Peaceful within their scabbards, if Powhatan Call them not forth, with voice of enmity.
POWHATAN. Oh, that can never be! feast then in peace, Children and friends--
_Leaves his place and comes forward to GRIMOSCO._
O priest! my soul is afraid it will be stained with dishonour.
GRIMOSCO. Away! the Great Spirit commands you. Resume your seat; hold the white men in discourse; I will but thrice wave my hand, and your foes are dead. [_KING resumes his seat._] [_To MIAMI._] Now, prince, has the hour of vengeance arrived.
POWHATAN. [_With a faltering voice._] Think not, white men, that Powhatan wants the knowledge to prize your friendship. Powhatan has seen three generations pa.s.s away; and his locks of age do not float upon the temples of folly.
_GRIMOSCO waves his hand: the INDIANS steal behind the ENGLISH, MIAMI behind ROLFE. KING proceeds._
If a leaf but fall in the forest, my people cry out with terror, "hark!
the white warrior comes!" Chief, thou art terrible as an enemy, and Powhatan knows the value of thy friendship.
_GRIMOSCO waves his hand again; the INDIANS seize their tomahawks, and prepare to strike. KING goes on._
Think not, therefore, Powhatan can attempt to deceive thee--
_The KING'S voice trembles; he stops, unable to proceed. The INDIANS'
eyes are fixed on GRIMOSCO, waiting for the last signal. At this moment the PRINCESS rushes in._
PRINCESS. Treachery to the white men!
_At the same instant, drum and trumpet without. Music. The ENGLISH seize the uplifted arms of the INDIANS, and form a tableau, as enter DELAWAR and his party. After the music, the SOLDIERS take charge of the INDIANS. POCAHONTAS flies to the arms of ROLFE._
NANTAQUAS. O father!
[_POWHATAN is transfixed with confusion._
SMITH. Wretched king! what fiend could urge you?
POWHATAN. Shame ties the tongue of Powhatan. Ask of that fiend-like priest, how, to please the angry Spirit, I was to ma.s.sacre my friends.
SMITH. Holy Religion! still beneath the veil Of sacred piety what crimes lie hid!
