Wearied arm and broken sword Wage in vain the desperate fight; Round him press a countless horde, He is but a single knight. Hark! a cry of triumph shrill Through the wilderness resounds, As, with twenty bleeding wounds, Sinks the warrior, fighting still. Now they heap the funeral pyre, And the torch of death they light; Ah! 'tis hard to die by fire! Who will shield the captive knight? Round the stake with fiendish cry Wheel and dance the savage crowd, Cold the victim's mien and proud, And his breast is bared to die. Who will shield the fearless heart? Who avert the murderous blade? From the throng with sudden start See, there springs an Indian maid. Quick she stands before the knight: "Loose the chain, unbind the ring! I am daughter of the king, And I claim the Indian right!" Dauntlessly aside she flings Lifted axe and thirsty knife, Fondly to his heart she clings, And her bosom guards his life! In the woods of Powhatan, Still 'tis told by Indian fires How a daughter of their sires Saved a captive Englishman. WILLIAM MAKEPEACE THACKERAY. The way in which the Pocahontas incident has been handled by the poets is an interesting and joyous study. These stanzas of Morris's are too delicious to be omitted. POCAHONTAS Upon the barren sand A single captive stood; Around him came, with bow and brand, The red men of the wood. Like him of old, his doom he hears, Rock-bound on ocean's brim-- The chieftain's daughter knelt in tears, And breathed a prayer for him. Above his head in air The savage war-club swung: The frantic girl, in wild despair, Her arms about him flung. Then shook the warriors of the shade, Like leaves on aspen limb, Subdued by that heroic maid Who breathed a prayer for him! "Unbind him!" gasped the chief: "It is your king's decree!" He kiss'd away the tears of grief, And set the captive free! 'Tis ever thus, when in life's storm Hope's star to man grows dim, An angel kneels, in woman's form, And breathes a prayer for him. GEORGE POPE MORRIS. The colony did not flourish as had been hoped, and in May, 1609, the King granted a new charter with larger powers and privileges, and a new company was formed, of which Sir Thomas Gates, Lord De La Warr, and Sir George Somers were made the officers. A large expedition sailed from England June 2, 1609, in charge of Gates, Somers, and Captain Newport, who were on the Sea Venture. During a violent hurricane, their ship was separated from the rest of the fleet and cast ashore upon the Bermudas, whose beauties were so eloquently sung by Andrew Marvell. BERMUDAS Where the remote Bermudas ride In the ocean's bosom unespied, From a small boat, that rowed along, The listening winds received this song: