The Indian Princess; Or, La Belle SauvageBarker, James Nelson
General
The Indian Princess; Or, La Belle Sauvage
Barker, James Nelson
American drama
POWHATAN. Fear not, my child; we will call the valiant Nantaquas from his
brothers; the brave English too will join us.
PRINCESS. Ah! then is thy safety and success certain.
[_Exit into palace, followed by NIMA, &c._
_Music. Enter GRIMOSCO and WARRIORS._
POWHATAN. Brave chieftains! need I remind you of the victories you have
gained; the scalps you have borne from your enemies? Chieftains, another
victory must be won; more trophies from your foes must deck your cabins;
the insolent Miami has braved your king, and defied him with the crimson
tomahawk. Warriors! we will not bury it till his nation is extinct. Ere we
tread the war-path, raise to our god Aresqui the song of battle, then
march to triumph and to glory.
SONG TO ARESQUI.
Aresqui! Aresqui!
Lo! thy sons for war prepare!
Snakes adorn each painted head,
While the cheek of flaming red
Gives the eye its ghastly glare.
Aresqui! Aresqui!
Through the war-path lead aright,
Lo! we're ready for the fight.
_War Song._
FIRST INDIAN. See the cautious warrior creeping!
SECOND INDIAN. See the tree-hid warrior peeping!
FIRST INDIAN. Mark! Mark!
Their track is here; now breathless go!
SECOND INDIAN. Hark! Hark!
The branches rustle--'tis the foe!
CHORUS. Now we bid the arrow fly--
Now we raise the hatchet high.
Where is urg'd the deadly dart,
There is pierced a chieftain's heart;
Where the war-club swift descends,
A hero's race of glory ends!
FIRST INDIAN. In vain the warrior flies--
From his brow the scalp we tear.
SECOND INDIAN. Or home the captiv'd prize,
A stake-devoted victim, bear.
FIRST AND SECOND INDIAN. The victors advance--
And while amidst the curling blaze,
Our foe his death-song tries to raise--
Dance the warriors' dance.
[_War-dance._
GRAND CHORUS. Aresqui! Aresqui!
Through the war-path lead aright--
Lo! we're ready for the fight.
[_March to battle._
ACT III.
SCENE I. _Jamestown--built._
_WALTER and ALICE._
WALTER. One mouthful more. [_Kiss._] Oh! after a long lent of absence,
what a charming relish is a kiss, served from the lips of a pretty wife,
to a hungry husband.
ALICE. And, believe me, I banquet at the high festival of return with
equal pleasure. But what has made your absence so tedious, prithee?
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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