The messenger ceased, his voice was still; But from that hall a war-cry shrill Roll’d over river, grove, and hill, So loud, so sharp, so piercing clear, For miles around the startled deer Raised high their heads and snuff’d the breeze, Gazed through the distant opening trees, And arch’d their necks, and raised their feet, Then clear’d the ground with step so fleet, That soon the dark and silent glen Secured them from pursuit of men. Grim warriors smote their breasts, and cried, ‘Vengeance shall humble pale-face pride; ‘Away, away, to Jamestown’s shore, ‘Our scalping-knives all thirst for gore.’ Stout Nantaquas with furious look Aloft his knotted war-club shook; His bosom panted for the strife Of war-club, battle-axe, or knife. Pamunky’s iron visage glow’d With passion’s fire, as round he trode, And cross’d the hall from side to side, And shook it with his giant stride. Raged and foam’d Nemattanow, Rattled his quiver and strain’d his bow, And vow’d no sleep his eyes should know, Till he had tasted English blood, And avenged the insult to his god. But Powhatan sat like a rock, That moves not mid the tempest shock; And while he watch’d his people’s rage, Which he alone had power to assuage, Passions that his own visage wrought Show’d equal fire, but more of thought. Sternly the monarch look’d around, And waved his hand: hush’d was each sound; The warriors bent a listening ear Their sovereign’s high behest to hear, While with rebuke and counsel bold He soon their fiery mood controll’d. XI. ‘Chiefs and warriors! why so high ‘Are raised the shout and battle-cry? ‘Why meet this strange mysterious foe, ‘Before his power and arms ye know? ‘In darkness would ye rush to fight, ‘Or wait till ye can see the light? ‘Why would ye grapple in his den ‘The fierce and strong-arm’d panther, when, ‘By waiting patiently awhile, ‘He’ll surely fall within your toil? ‘Calm your fierce rage, let reason show ‘The way, the hour, to meet the foe. ‘Great Okee’s wrongs must be repaid, ‘But be the vengeful blow delayed. ‘Meantime let scouts through grove and glen ‘Watch every step of the pale-face men; ‘Creep cautiously through bush and brake, ‘Beside their path, like noiseless snake, ‘And watch till the certain moment come, ‘Then strike the death-blow deep and home.’ XII.