Whether weal or wo betide

‘Whether weal or wo betide,’ He of the raven plume replied, ‘Or whether war or death be near, ‘Monarch, I neither know nor fear. ‘My soul ne’er trembled at the sight ‘Of foeman yet in bloodiest fight, ‘Though many a chief, in battle slain, ‘This arm has stretch’d upon the plain. ‘And in thy conflict’s darkest hour, ‘Who rush’d amid the arrowy shower, ‘And met the foremost of the foe, ‘So oft as Opechancanough? ‘And though my nerves may tremble now, ‘And looks of terror clothe my brow, ‘Yet I protest, and may great Okee hear, ‘These signs, that in my looks are blent, ‘Are marks of wild astonishment, ‘But not the work of fear. ‘And wouldst thou know what makes me pale, ‘Monarch, listen to my tale.