Thus spoke Pamunky’s wily king; The torch-light high was flickering; On Powhatan’s stern face it gleams, But from his eye shot fiercer beams, That told the fire, which vigor lit In his day of strength, was burning yet. The monarch rose in musing mood, And silent for a moment stood, Wrapp’d in himself, as though he sought To grasp some hidden, vanish’d thought, Which, rayless, vague, and undefined, Still seems to flit before the mind, A form unseen--But now a glow Of animation rose, as though That vanish’d thought in brightness broke At once upon his view; and then, Turning toward his guest again, Thus to the chief he spoke. XIII. ‘Brother, a mist is round my head, ‘And darkness in my path is spread; ‘Thy tale is like the clouds of night; ‘My thoughts are stars that shed no light; ‘And much I marvel what may mean ‘This wondrous vision thou hast seen. ‘That pale-face throng, with forms like ours, ‘Are not the band of secret powers, ‘Which thou hast fancied them to be; ‘This would not solve the mystery, ‘For spirits of fire and spirits of flood ‘Are foes that seek each other’s blood. ‘My thoughts are bent another way; ‘I hear a voice, that seems to say, ‘They are but men, perchance, who seek, ‘Along the shores of Chesapeake, ‘To plant a tree whose roots shall spread, ‘Broad and deep as that ocean bed, ‘And whose tall branches shall expand, ‘Till they o’ershadow all the land. ‘I hear a voice that says, _beware_, ‘Or thou wilt tread upon a snare; ‘There is a way thou must not pass, ‘A serpent lieth in the grass; ‘There is a fountain thou must shun, ‘For streams of poison from it run; ‘There is a shade thou must not seek, ‘For round it plays the lightning streak. ‘I hear a voice in whispers low, ‘That speaks of carnage, death, and wo, ‘Of injured rights and ruthless power, ‘And tempest-clouds, which soon shall lower:-- ‘Some pestilence infects the air; ‘I hear a voice that says, _beware_. ‘Hast thou not heard our fathers tell ‘What once, in ages past, befell ‘Our race, what time Missouri’s tide ‘Beheld them sporting by its side? ‘While they in fearless quiet slept, ‘A secret foe among them crept, ‘And, ere they dream’d of coming scath, ‘Had wellnigh struck the blow of death. ‘Harmless at first he seem’d to be, ‘And weak as helpless infancy; ‘His face was bright with friendship’s smile, ‘But in his heart was blackest guile; ‘And soon to giant strength he grew, ‘And thunderbolts around him threw, ‘And many a death and many a wound ‘Among our sires he dealt around, ‘And drove them from their peaceful home, ‘Through forests deep and wild to roam. ‘But o’er his head a murky cloud ‘Came down upon him as a shroud, ‘And vengeance seized upon her prey