‘The daring deed was bravely done,’ The joyful chief replied; ‘For this, henceforth thou art my son, ‘And Metoka thy bride. ‘Three days a merry festival ‘Thy triumph shall proclaim, ‘And every grove through all our tribes ‘Shall ring aloud thy name; ‘And when these joyous days are past, ‘Fair Metoka shall go, ‘In all our choicest gifts array’d, ‘To bless Nemattanow.’ VI. Now through the halls of Powhatan The voice of gladness wakes, And ringing out from hill to hill The shout of triumph breaks. Stout warriors come with wampum belts And robes of blue and red, And many a chief in rich attire, With war-plume on his head; And men and maidens in their joy The hall of council throng, And every lodge and every grove Echoes with dance and song. And rich and plenteous is the feast On every board spread out; Joy sparkles from a thousand eyes, High peals the merry shout; And loud and often in their glee They bless Nemattanow, Whose powerful arm had overcome Their strange and mighty foe. VII. And now, to appease great Okee’s ire, The priests with solemn care Enter the sacred temple halls, And mystic rites prepare-- Those sacred halls where priests perform Their fearful mystery, Places by far too holy deem’d For other eyes to see-- Temples that shield from vulgar sight{18} A thousand holy things, Their idols, tombs, and images Of great and ancient kings. Out on a grassy, open spot, Are fagots piled on high, And leaping flame and rolling smoke Are towering to the sky; And there, to wait the priest’s return, Hundreds are gather’d round, To join the mystic revelry, And dance on holy ground-- When lo! the solemn man comes forth{19} With slow and measured tread; A crown of snakes and weasel skins Is borne upon his head; Atop a tuft of feathers serves To bind them in their place, And serpent heads and weasel claws Hang round his neck and face. His naked shoulders and his breast Are stain’d a blood-red hue, And grim and blood-red is the mask His fiery eyes look through. The sacred weed is in his hand,{20} That Okee’s favor wins, Whose grateful odor hath the power To expiate all sins; He hurls it forth with sinewy arm Into the hottest flame, And thrice aloud in solemn tone Invokes great Okee’s name. At once they leap and form a ring, With shout and hideous yell, And round the flames they whirl and scream, Like a thousand fiends of hell. With strange contortions, flashing eyes, And long and flying hair, Around and round, for six long hours,{21} They battle with the air. And then again through every hall The feast and song renew, And all day long and all the night Their festive mirth pursue. VIII.