Like heavy cloud, portending storm, Slow rose Pamunky’s giant form; And laying bow and war-club by, On Powhatan he turn’d his eye, And while the chiefs in silence hung On every accent of his tongue, With flashing eye and bearing bold He thus the day’s adventure told. ‘Ere left the lark her grassy nest ‘To pour her song upon the air, ‘I call’d my warriors from their rest, ‘And bade them for the woods prepare. ‘Each one his stoutest war-club took, ‘And each his trustiest bow; ‘His hatchet above his girdle hung, ‘His scalping-knife below; ‘And well prepared for deadly fight, ‘If foes should cross our way, ‘Through forests dark we bent our course ‘To the groves of Paspahey. ‘And when we came to the river side ‘The sun was shining bright, ‘And the arms of a hundred pale-face men ‘Were gleaming in the light; ‘And thick upon the shallop’s deck ‘Like forest trees they stood, ‘And a hundred faces, pale as death, ‘Look’d out upon the wood. ‘But bravely to the river’s brink ‘I led my warrior train, ‘And face to face, each glance they sent, ‘We sent it back again. ‘Their werowance look’d stern at me, ‘And I look’d stern at him, ‘And all my warriors clasp’d their bows ‘And nerved each heart and limb; ‘I raised my heavy war-club high, ‘And swung it fiercely round, ‘And shook it toward the shallop’s side, ‘Then laid it on the ground. ‘And then the lighted calumet ‘I offer’d to their view, ‘And thrice I drew the sacred smoke ‘And toward the shallop blew; ‘And as the curling vapor rose, ‘Soft as a spirit prayer, ‘I saw the pale-face leader wave ‘A white flag in the air. ‘Then launching out their painted skiff, ‘They boldly came to land ‘And spoke us many a kindly word, ‘And took us by the hand, ‘Presenting rich and shining gifts, ‘Of copper, brass, and beads, ‘To show that they were men like us, ‘And prone to generous deeds. ‘We held a long and friendly talk, ‘Inquiring whence they came, ‘And who the leader of their band, ‘And what their country’s name; ‘And how their mighty shallop moved ‘Across the boundless sea, ‘And why they touch’d our great king’s land ‘Without his liberty. ‘They say that far beyond the sea ‘A pleasant land appears, ‘And there their sires have made their graves ‘For many a hundred years; ‘And there the men are numerous ‘As leaves upon the trees, ‘And a thousand mighty shallops there ‘Are moved by every breeze. ‘They call this bright land _England_, ‘’Tis surrounded by the sea; ‘_King James_ they call their werowance, ‘And a mighty chief is he; ‘And _brave Sir John_ is the name they give ‘To the leader of this band, ‘Who only ask to rest awhile ‘On Powhatan’s wide land, ‘To trade with us for skins and furs,