CANTO SECOND.

I.

SOFTLY and light the moonbeams fell
Upon that forest-cinctur'd cell,

Whose wicker walls were mottled brown
Where shadows of the trees came down,

And gently moved and quiver'd there,
Like spirits dancing in the air.

9

A stout and trusty guard was placed 9 Around the lodge, whose hands embraced The battle-axe or bended bow,

Ready to meet a coming foe;

And silent as the stars of night

They watch'd from dusk till dawning light.
Hush'd were the echoes of the grove,
Where feeding deer in quiet rove;
The softly whispering zephyr's breath
Came by with a stillness next to death,
And silence hover'd with noiseless wing
Over the monarch slumbering.

Slept Powhatan? Why think it strange?
Terror in him could work no change;
For he had seen too much of life

To heed the approach of toil or strife;
In perilous vicissitude grown old,

He now could calmly rest though thunders round him roll'd.

II.

But o'er the monarch's child, in vain,
Sleep sought to hold her wonted reign.
With active thought she ponder'd o'er
The plumed chieftain's evening lore,
Till half it seem'd before her view
Appear'd the strange unearthly crew;

And that wild tale on her had wrought such power,
That she with sleepless eye had pass'd the midnight

hour.

Forth in her airy summer dress,
With footsteps light and echoless,
All-unperceived she left the cell,
By servant, sire, or sentinel.

In such divine apparel seem'd

That lovely night, you would have deem'd
It had its bridal vesture on

To wait and wed the coming dawn.

Its moonlight robe flow'd rich and free,

Thick set with star-embroidery,

And round the earth and o'er the sky
Hung like a garb of Deity.

The pageant of that glorious night
Might well be gazed on with delight,
But still the loveliest object there
Was that lone maiden, young and fair,
Gliding abroad at such an hour,
By forest tree and summer bower.
On the distant groves of Paspahey
Her eye was brightly turn'd,

And to be where that land in dimness lay
Her bosom as warmly burn'd.

What though the way was lonely and far?
The dread of the stilly night,

Nor dark morass, had power to bar
That maiden's romantic flight;
And when from the east the azure tide
Of day came over the wild,
There stood alone by the river side
The monarch's artless child.

And she was gazing in wild surprise

On a barque majestic and proud, Whose masts appear'd, to her wondering eyes, High towering up to the vaulty skies,

And as deep in the waters bow'd.

III.

Not long she gazed on those masts so tall,
And that ship so gallant and trim,
For a hero's form eclipsed them all,
And her eyes were fix'd on him.
And peering forth from a friendly screen
Of spruce and darkling fir,

She plainly beheld the stranger's mein,
But the stranger saw not her.
With martial cap and coat of red,
And bright sword at his side,

He paced the deck with a princely tread,
And the dark woods calmly eyed.
But soon o'er forest, glade, and stream
Darted the sun's bright morning beam,
And, glancing through her sheltering tree,
Awoke that maiden's revery.

She started, for 'twas now the hour
When Opechancanough would come,
And thrice in haste she left the bower
To trace her pathless journey home;
But thrice return'd, she knew not why,
And, lingering, look'd with soul-lit eye
Upon that stranger still;

Nor wist she what should make a sigh
Her throbbing bosom fill.

But hark! a voice is on the breeze,

The raven-crested chief is near,

And, moving through the distant trees,
His train of warriors now appear;

And like a wild and startled fawn,

Lightly that forest child has gone,

Through dark morass, and grove, and glen, To seek her father's home again.

IV.

At dawning Powhatan arose From calm and undisturb'd repose, And when his brief repast was done He summon'd forth his valiant son, Dark Nantaquas, of manly form, And soul with native courage warm, So nimble of foot and stout of limb, That few could wrestle or run with him. 'List, Nantaquas-hear our command; 'Take bow and hatchet in thy hand, 'And a full quiver at thy back,

'Lest foes may chance to cross thy track, 'And haste thee to our chieftains all,

'And each unto our council call.
'Call Chesapeakes and Nansamonds,
And broad Potomac's warlike sons,
'And rouse the chiefs of every clan,
'From Orapakes to Kecoughtan.'