His name was shouted on the air A thousand times in vain, And runners flew this way and that, O’er rugged hill and plain; And hall and lodge were search’d throughout, And grove and glen explored, But all the search till night set in No tidings could afford. XIII. Again the day is dawning, And the revellers are out, And their whooping and their cheering Might be heard for miles about; And the day is spent in feasting, And ’tis joy and music all, Save where the mighty monarch, In his great council-hall, In his royal robes is sitting, And his war-chiefs round him wait, To decide in solemn council Their illustrious captive’s fate. XIV. Though many honor’d brave Sir John For his spirit bold and high, The solemn council now decide That brave Sir John must die; For this alone, they deem’d, would serve To appease great Okee’s wrath; And safety to the monarch’s realm Required the strange chief’s death. So great a foe and terrible Their tribes had never known: Hence ’twas decreed, that in his fall, Great Powhatan alone Was worthy to inflict the blow This mighty chief to slay; And all demanded that the deed Be done without delay. XV. The monarch sitteth on his throne, In his dignity array’d; Mysterious power is in his eye, That maketh man afraid; The women of his court stand up With awe behind the throne, But his daughters in their beauty sit On either hand alone; While all around the spacious hall Long rows of warriors stand, With nodding war-plume on each head, And each with weapon in his hand; And scalps and trophies line the walls, That fifty wars supplied, And richest robes and shining belts Appear on every side. And all is placed in fit array To take the captive’s eye, When he should come within the hall To be condemn’d and die-- For ’twas not meet to take the life Of so great and strange a man, Till he had seen the greatness too Of great King Powhatan. XVI.