Then Powhatan, to sooth to rest

Then Powhatan, to sooth to rest His daughter’s agitated breast, Bethought to make some kind reply, When sudden toward the east his eye Caught the glimpse of a warrior form: Swift as an eagle wings the storm, He sweeps along the far hill-side, Dimly mid dusky woods descried. Uprose the monarch nimbly then, And sternly sent his eagle ken Through opening grove and o’er the glen, And watch’d the form that now drew near, Bounding along, like a mountain deer. He marvell’d if the warrior came With foeman’s brand to light the flame Of ruthless war; for sure his speed Might well portend a foeman’s deed. But as he gain’d an open height, That mark’d him clearer to the sight— ‘I know him now,’ the monarch said, ‘By his robe of blue and belt of red; ‘He bears a quiver and a bow, ‘His plume is a raven wing— ‘Our brother, Opechancanough, ‘Pamunky’s wily king.’ As summer breezes, quick and strong, Hurry a fleecy cloud along, We see the shadow softly creep, Fast as the following eye can sweep, Darkening blade, and bough, and leaf, O’er grassy mead and woody dell; So flew that raven-crested chief, And reach’d the monarch’s cell. And now the day is closing in, And one by one the stars begin, Around an unbeclouded sky, To hang their glittering lamps on high; Chilly and damp the night dews fall, And brightly in the monarch’s hall The evening torches glow; Thither the royal group repair, The monarch sage, the daughter fair, And princely Opechancanough. Mutely the monarch eyed his guest, For on his brow there seem’d impress’d A more disturb’d and ruffled air Than e’er before had mantled there. At length with questions, few and brief, He gravely thus address’d the chief.