‘Oh, sad the tale I have to tell,’ The trembling chief replied, ‘And gladly to have saved thy child, ‘Would Japazaws have died. ‘Like a beam of light fair Metoka ‘Went dancing through our grove, ‘Her voice was like the nightingale, ‘Her spirit like the dove, ‘And every thing was happier, ‘On which her brightness shone; ‘Such innocence and love were hers, ‘We loved her as our own. ‘But, oh, the cruel pale-face came, ‘In his shallop dark and tall, ‘And he seized her on the river bank-- ‘We heard her feeble call, ‘And ran to rescue, but in vain; ‘They bore her from the shore, ‘Away, away, and much I fear ‘Thou’lt never see her more.’{26} IV. The aged monarch bow’d his head In bitterness of wo; In all his long eventful life This was the deadliest blow. In manhood’s prime he had look’d on And seen his kindred die, Without one muscle quivering, Without one tear or sigh. Two generations he had seen Swept from his wide domain; And war, and peace, and lapse of years, Had battled him in vain; But when this last, this brightest hope Was torn from him apart, It shook the strength of his iron frame, And pierced him to the heart. The eyes of his fierce warriors glow’d And flash’d with living fire; And leave to fly and leave to fight Is all they now require. Pamunky rises in his might, His voice is loud and high-- ‘This instant let us seek the foe, ‘And cut him down or die.’ Like an angry tiger, Nantaquas Sends fiery glances round, And clutching his huge war-club, growls, And fiercely beats the ground; And a hundred warriors seize their arms And foam like a raging flood; And a hundred voices cry with thirst For a taste of English blood. But while they raged with furious heat, And long’d for the coming fight, A swiftly flying messenger From the forest came in sight. ’Twas faithful Rawhunt--six long days At Jamestown he had been, A captive in the picket fort-- How came he free again? He rushes to the council-hall And stands before the king, And listening warriors bend to hear What tidings he may bring. V.