"The Governor tarrieth long," he chode, "As he were loth to go: With food before, and want behind, There should be haste, I trow." Even as he spake, the Governor came:-- "Nay, fret not, for the men Have held me back with frantic let, To have them home again. "The women weep;--'Ay, ay, the ship Will come again' (he saith), 'Before the May;--Before the May We shall have starved to death!' "I've sworn return by God's dear leave, I've vowed by court and crown, Nor yet appeased them. Comrade, thou, Mayhap, canst soothe them down." Sir Richard loosed his helm, and stretched Impatient hands abroad:-- "Have ye no trust in man?" he cried, "Have ye no faith in God? "Your Governor goes, as needs he must, To bear through royal grace, Hither, such food-supply, that want May never blench a face. "Of freest choice ye willed to leave What so ye had of ease; For neither stress of liege nor law Hath forced you over seas. "Your Governor leaves fair hostages As costliest pledge of care,-- His daughter yonder, and her child, The child Virginia Dare! "Come hither, little sweetheart! Lo! Thou'lt be the first, I ween, To bend the knee, and send through me Thy birthland's virgin fealty Unto its Virgin Queen. "And now, good folk, for my commands: If ye are fain to roam Beyond this island's narrow bounds, To seek elsewhere a home,-- "Upon some pine-tree's smoothen trunk Score deep the Indian name Of tribe or village where ye haunt, That we may read the same. "And if ye leave your haven here Through dire distress or loss, Cut deep within the wood above The symbol of the cross. "And now on my good blade, I swear, And seal it with this sign, That if the fleet that sails to-day Return not hither by the May, The fault shall not be mine!" II [August 15, 1590] The breath of spring was on the sea; Anon the Governor stepped His good ship's deck right merrily,-- His promise had been kept. "See, see! the coast-line comes in view!" He heard the mariners shout,-- "We'll drop our anchors in the Sound Before a star is out!" "Now God be praised!" he inly breathed, "Who saves from all that harms; The morrow morn my pretty ones Will rest within my arms." At dawn of day they moored their ship, And dared the breakers' roar: What meant it? not a man was there To welcome them ashore! They sprang to find the cabins rude; The quick green sedge had thrown Its knotted web o'er every door, And climbed the chimney-stone. The spring was choked with winter's leaves, And feebly gurgled on; And from the pathway, strewn with wrack, All trace of feet was gone. Their fingers thrid the matted grass, If there, perchance, a mound Unseen might heave the broken turf; But not a grave was found.