Pocahontas and John Rolfe

Swiftly passed two years; the colony was saved From dire ruin by Lord Delaware's arrival With supplies and words of cheer, with thankful prayers Unto heaven for rescue from the "Starving Time." But the Indians had resentful grown meanwhile, Pocahontas long had vanished from their ken, Said the settlers questioned of the Princess' fate.

Once again the colonists took courage, throve 'Neath the strong rule of "High Marshall" Thomas Dale. Argall bold began to open trade once more With the tribes; the Potomekes he cruised among, Learned from them that Pocahontas was their guest, Bribed a squaw to bring her to the waiting ship, Carried her away to Jamestown as a hostage— Not unwilling hostage to the English race, Which she loved, though weaned from her childhood's ardor.

Day by day she came and went among the settlers With a noiseless step, with gentle courtesy That soon won for her the friendship of her captors. Children loved her, played with her among the flowers Growing wild in woodland and in meadows; And she wove them flower baskets of the rushes By the shallow pools within the wide brown marshes. Oftener she sat beside the open doorway With her beadwork, and her skilful fingers plying Deftly back and forth upon the wooden frame, Fashioned wondrous patterns of the brightest colors For the moccasins and dresses of the women.

It was thus that Rolfe, the English planter saw her, And the picture of the maiden at her beadwork Haunted long his memory as he sat alone In the home bereft of woman's love and care. Long he mused and sadly on his mournful fortunes Since the fateful shipwreck on Bermuda's shore That had left him lonely, left a gloomy shadow On his New World home. Then he broke the silence: "Others who have loved and lost to grief consent not. Rouse them from their sorrow unto nobler purpose. Well I know that melancholy claims the captive, Marks the trembling hostage for its own— Alas! Often have I seen her steal away at twilight To the cabin rude where once he lived, her hero, Where of yore his voice had welcomed her in greeting; Or again, when none is by to watch her mourning For the old days when she roamed a princess free, I myself have overheard her quiet weeping. She is lonely, needs a strong arm to protect her— Dare I then, a Saxon, wed an Indian maiden? Lo! I see the future brightening, love and peace In these walls abiding; and for aye united Conquering and conquered races of our land. Yes, in years to come Virginia shall bless me, Children proud their lineage trace to Pocahontas Princess royal of the native Powhatans. Wake, John Rolfe, from idle dreaming! Simple wooing Better suits the brave man's case than castle-building. Friends will mock, no doubt, the sober planter's fancy, And the maid herself refuse to hear my pleading; Yet I dare to risk the White Man's scorning even, In such cause—with me decision's half the battle."

Pocahontas at the doorway saw him coming, Saw his shadow fall upon the broidered beading, And her nimble lingers paused, she upward glanced, Radiant smile came swiftly as she met his gaze, For he oft had spoke her kindly since her advent As a maid forlorn to dwell at once-loved Jamestown. Rolfe sat down beside her, questioning Pocahontas Of her kindred, of the tribes that lived about them, Of her playmates in the pretty upland village, Of the warriors who had fought (and died in fighting) For the Red Man's country, for the Powhatans. Of the old squaw, Winganameo, who had taught her, Of the young bucks who had danced around the campfires.

Thus at length spoke Rolfe in softened tones and serious: "Pocahontas, I am lonely. Many times Moons have waxed and waned since first I landed homeless On this shore; still my fireside is lacking Woman's presence. And my heart was desolate Till your face I saw beside this cottage door, And your voice did stir the depths of my affections. Simple is my wooing, but my love sincere— Pocahontas, hear me! you are lonely, too."

Surged the rich red over dusky cheek and brow, Then as sudden vanished as she answered softly, "Thou an Englishman, to wed an Indian maiden? Ah, Mr. Rolfe, once did I know not difference 'Twist the Red Man's squaw, the White Man's honored wife, Indian princess was one truly, not a plaything Whom the world might scorn at will— But now! I have learned my lesson all too well, I fear. Yes, I'm lonely here; and yet among my kindred I am lonelier still, for I have learned to love Ways of Pale Face—one did teach me that in childhood. Oft, methinks, there's no one careth for me now; But forgive me if I do thee wrong, kind friend, Thou hast ever patient been, the while my heart was sore."

"Listen, Pocahontas," once again he pleaded, "Dry those tears, forget past ills, think of the years, Happy years before us; and the home we'll make In these wilds, where Indian and English both Shall a welcome find with Lord and Lady Rolfe."

Pocahontas listened, gave a shy consent, Yielding heart and hand into his life-long keeping; Henceforth was John Rolfe to be her true protector, With his people she would cast her lot for aye. Fitting preparation for an English home, Bible truths they taught her—which she knew in part— In the little church, at the baptismal font She was named "Rebekah"—Parson Whitaker, "Apostle of Virginia," was the English priest.

Dawned the day that saw the union of the races— English and the Indian—on Virginia's soil. In the Jamestown Church the rites were solemnized, Compact sealed that helped to make our history. Fragrant blooms gave the native jessamine For the bridal altar; while with brilliant sprays Coral honeysuckle wreathed the Princess' brow, Matching necklace, gift of Smith, sole ornament Save betrothal ring upon the shapely hand. Assembled in the church a goodly company, Englishmen in force, with them the Powhatans, Witnessing the marriage of their Princess. Thus alliance was renewed and peace proclaimed.