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_ ACT III
SCENE II.
A grove. [Enter ROBIN and NIMA.]
ROBIN.
Aye, bless you, I knew I should creep into your heart
at last, my little dusky divinity.
NIMA.
Divinity! what's that?
ROBIN.
Divinity--it's a--Oh, it's a pretty title that we lords of the creation bestow upon our playthings. But hist! here they come. Now is it a knotty point to be argued, whether this parting doth most affect the mistress and master, or the maid and man. Let Cupid be umpire, and steal the scales of Justice to weigh our heavy sighs.
[Retire.]
[Enter ROLFE and POCAHONTAS.]
PRINCESS.
Nay, let me on--
ROLFE.
No further, gentle love;
The rugged way has wearied you already.
PRINCESS.
Feels the wood pigeon weariness, who flies,
Mated with her beloved? Ah! lover, no.
ROLFE.
Sweet! in this grove we will exchange adieus;
My steps should point straight onward; were thou with me,
Thy voice would bid me quit the forward path
At every pace, or fix my side-long look,
Spell-bound, upon thy beauties.
PRINCESS.
Ah! you love not
The wild-wood prattle of the Indian maid,
As once you did.
ROLFE.
By heaven! my thirsty ear,
Could ever drink its liquid melody.
Oh! I could talk with thee, till hasty night,
Ere yet the sentinel day had done his watch;
Veil'd like a spy, should steal on printless feet,
To listen to our parley! Dearest love!
My captain has arrived, and I do know,
When honour and when duty call upon me,
Thou wouldst not have me chid for tardiness.
But, ere the matin of to-morrow's lark,
Do echo from the roof of nature's temple,
Sweetest, expect me.
PRINCESS.
Wilt thou surely come?
ROLFE.
To win thee from thy father will I come;
And my commander's voice shall join with mine,
To woo Powhatan to resign his treasure.
PRINCESS.
Go then, but ah! forget not--
ROLFE.
I'll forget
All else, to think on thee!
PRINCESS.
Thou art my life!
I lived not till I saw thee, love; and now,
I live not in thine absence. Long, Oh! long
I was the savage child of savage Nature;
And when her flowers sprang up, while each green bough
Sang with the passing west wind's rustling breath;
When her warm visitor, flush'd Summer, came,
Or Autumn strew'd her yellow leaves around,
Or the shrill north wind pip'd his mournful music,
I saw the changing brow of my wild mother
With neither love nor dread. But now, Oh! now,
I could entreat her for eternal smiles,
So thou might'st range through groves of loveliest flowers,
Where never Winter, with his icy lip,
Should dare to press thy cheek.
ROLFE.
My sweet enthusiast!
PRINCESS.
O! 'tis from thee that I have drawn my being:
Thou'st ta'en me from the path of savage error,
Blood-stain'd and rude, where rove my countrymen,
And taught me heavenly truths, and fill'd my heart
With sentiments sublime, and sweet, and social.
Oft has my winged spirit, following thine,
Cours'd the bright day-beam, and the star of night,
And every rolling planet of the sky,
Around their circling orbits. O my love!
Guided by thee, has not my daring soul,
O'ertopt the far-off mountains of the east,
Where, as our fathers' fable, shad'wy hunters
Pursue the deer, or clasp the melting maid,
'Mid ever blooming spring? Thence, soaring high
From the deep vale of legendary fiction,
Hast thou not heaven-ward turn'd my dazzled sight,
Where sing the spirits of the blessed good
Around the bright throne of the Holy One?
This thou hast done; and ah! what couldst thou more,
Belov'd preceptor, but direct that ray,
Which beams from Heaven to animate existence,
And bid my swelling bosom beat with love!
ROLFE.
O, my dear scholar!
PRINCESS.
Prithee, chide me, love:
My idle prattle holds thee from thy purpose.
ROLFE.
O! speak more music! and I'll listen to it,
Like stilly midnight to sweet Philomel.
PRINCESS.
Nay, now begone; for thou must go: ah! fly,
The sooner to return--
ROLFE.
Thus, then, adieu!
[Embrace.]
But, ere the face of morn blush rosy red,
To see the dew-besprent, cold virgin ground
Stain'd by licentious step; Oh, long before
The foot of th' earliest furred forrester,
Do mark its imprint on morn's misty sheet,
With sweet good morrow will I wake my love.
PRINCESS.
To bliss thou'lt wake me, for I sleep till then
Only with sorrow's poppy on my lids.
[Music. Embrace; and exit ROLFE, followed by ROBIN;
PRINCESS looks around despondingly.]
But now, how gay and beauteous was this grove!
Sure ev'ning's shadows have enshrouded it,
And 'tis the screaming bird of night I hear,
Not the melodious mock-bird. Ah! fond girl!
'Tis o'er thy soul the gloomy curtain hangs;
'Tis in thy heart the rough-toned raven sings.
O lover! haste to my benighted breast;
Come like the glorious sun, and bring me day!
Song.
When the midnight of absence the day-scene pervading
Distils its chill dew o'er the bosom of love,
Oh, how fast then the gay tints of nature are fading!
How harsh seems the music of joy in the grove!
While the tender flow'r droops till return of the light,
Steep'd in tear drops that fall from the eye of the night.
But Oh! when the lov'd-one appears,
Like the sun a bright day to impart,
To kiss off those envious tears,
To give a new warmth to the heart;
Soon the flow'ret seeming dead
Raises up its blushing head,
Glows again the breast of love,
Laughs again the joyful grove;
While once more the mock-bird's throat
Trolls the sweetly various note.
But ah! when dark absence the day-scene pervading
Distils its chill dew o'er the bosom of love,
Oh! fast then the gay tints of nature are fading!
Oh! harsh seems the music of joy in the grove!
And the tender flow'r droops till return of the light,
Steep'd in tear drops that fall from the eye of the night.
PRINCESS.
Look, Nima, surely I behold our captive,
The prince Miami, and our cruel priest.
NIMA.
Lady, 'tis they; and now they move this way.
PRINCESS.
How earnest are their gestures; ah! my Nima,
When souls like theirs mingle in secret council,
Stern murder's voice alone is listen'd to.
Miami too at large--O trembling heart,
Most sad are thy forebodings; they are here--
Haste, Nima; let us veil us from their view.
[They retire.]
[Enter MIAMI and GRIMOSCO.]
GRIMOSCO.
Be satisfied; I cannot fail--hither the king will soon come.
This deep shade have I chosen for our place of meeting. Hush! he comes.
Retire, and judge if Grimosco have vainly boasted--away!
[MIAMI retires.]
[Enter POWHATAN.]
POWHATAN.
Now, priest, I attend the summons of thy voice.
GRIMOSCO.
So you consult your safety, for 'tis the voice of warning.
POWHATAN.
Of what would you warn me?
GRIMOSCO.
Danger.
POWHATAN.
From whom?
GRIMOSCO.
Your enemies.
POWHATAN.
Old man, these have I conquered.
GRIMOSCO.
The English still exist.
POWHATAN.
The English!
GRIMOSCO.
The nobler beast of the forest issues boldly from his den,
and the spear of the powerful pierces his heart. The
deadly adder lurks in his covert till the unwary footstep
approach him.
POWHATAN.
I see no adder near me.
GRIMOSCO.
No, for thine eyes rest only on the flowers
under which he glides.
POWHATAN.
Away, thy sight is dimmed by the shadows of age.
GRIMOSCO.
King, for forty winters hast thou heard the voice of counsel from my lips, and never did its sound deceive thee; never did my tongue raise the war cry, and the foe appeared not. Be warned then to beware the white man. He has fixed his serpent eye upon you, and, like the charmed bird, you flutter each moment nearer to the jaw of death.
POWHATAN.
How, Grimosco?
GRIMOSCO.
Do you want proof of the white man's hatred to the red?
Follow him along the bay; count the kings he has
conquered, and the nations that his sword has made extinct.
POWHATAN.
Like a warrior he subdued them, for the chain of
friendship bound them not to each other. The white
man is brave as Aresqui; and can the brave be treacherous?
GRIMOSCO.
Like the red feathers of the flamingo is craft, the brightest plume that graces the warrior's brow. Are not your people brave? Yet does the friendly tree shield them while the hatchet is thrown. Who doubts the courage of Powhatan? Yet has the eye of darkness seen Powhatan steal to the surprise of the foe.
POWHATAN.
Ha! priest, thy words are true. I will be satisfied.
Even now I received a swift messenger from my son:
to-day he will conduct the English to my banquet.
I will demand of him if he be the friend of Powhatan.
GRIMOSCO.
Yes; but demand it of him as thou drawest thy
reeking hatchet from his cleft head.
[KING starts.]
The despoilers of our land must die!
POWHATAN.
What red man can give his eye-ball the glare of defiance when the white chief is nigh? He who stood alone amidst seven hundred foes, and, while he spurned their king to the ground, dared them to shoot their arrows; who will say to him, "White man, I am thine enemy?" No one. My chiefs would be children before him.
GRIMOSCO.
The valour of thy chiefs may slumber, but the craft of thy priest shall watch. When the English sit at that banquet from which they shall never rise; when their eyes read nothing but friendship in thy looks, there shall hang a hatchet over each victim head, which, at the silent signal of Grimosco--
POWHATAN.
Forbear, counsellor of death! Powhatan cannot betray
those who have vanquished his enemies; who are his
friends, his brothers.
GRIMOSCO.
Impious! Can the enemies of your God be your friends? Can the children of another parent be your brethren? You are deaf to the counsellor: 'tis your priest now speaks. I have heard the angry voice of the Spirit you have offended; offended by your mercy to his enemies. Dreadful was his voice; fearful were his words. Avert his wrath, or thou art condemned; and the white men are the ministers of his vengeance.
POWHATAN.
Priest!
GRIMOSCO.
From the face of the waters will he send them, in mighty tribes, and our shores will scarce give space for their footsteps. Powhatan will fly before them; his beloved child, his wives, all that is dear to him, he will leave behind. Powhatan will fly; but whither? which of his tributary kings will shelter him? Not one. Already they cry, "Powhatan is ruled by the white; we will no longer be the slaves of a slave!"
POWHATAN.
Ha!
GRIMOSCO.
Despoiled of his crown, Powhatan will be hunted
from the land of his ancestors. To strange woods
will the fugitive be pursued by the Spirit whom
he has angered--
POWHATAN.
Oh, dreadful!
GRIMOSCO.
And at last, when the angel of death obeys his call of anguish, whither will go his condemned soul? Not to the fair forests, where his brave fathers are. Oh! never will Powhatan clasp the dear ones who have gone before him. His exiled, solitary spirit will forever houl on the barren heath where the wings of darkness rest. No ray of hope shall visit him; eternal will be his night of despair.
POWHATAN.
Forbear, forbear!
O priest, teach me to avert the dreadful doom.
GRIMOSCO.
Let the white men be slaughtered.
POWHATAN.
The angry Spirit shall be appeased. Come.
[Exit.]
GRIMOSCO.
Thy priest will follow thee.
[Enter MIAMI.]
MIAMI.
Excellent Grimosco! Thy breath, priest, is a deadly pestilence,
and hosts fall before it. Yet--still is Miami a captive.
GRIMOSCO.
Fear not. Before Powhatan reach Werocomoco thou shalt be free. Come.
MIAMI.
Oh, my soul hungers for the banquet;
for then shall Miami feast on the heart of his rival!
[Exeunt with savage triumph.]
[Music. The PRINCESS rushes forward, terror depicted in her face. After running alternately to each side, and stopping undetermined and bewildered, speaks.]
PRINCESS.
O whither shall I fly? what course pursue?
At Werocomoco, my frenzied looks
Would sure betray me. What if hence I haste?
I may o'ertake my lover, or encounter
My brother and his friends. Away, my Nima!
[Exit NIMA.]
O holy Spirit! thou whom my dear lover
Has taught me to adore and think most merciful,
Wing with thy lightning's speed my flying feet!
[Music. Exit PRINCESS.] _
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