GERALDINE. Well, sir.

WALTER. And I, boy, saw him win the arms; Oh, 'twas the bravest act!

GERALDINE. Prithee, recount it.

WALTER. It was at Regal, close beleaguer'd then By the duke Sigismund of Transylvania, Our captain's general. One day, from the gate There issued a gigantic mussulman, And threw his gauntlet down upon the ground, Daring our christian knights to single combat. It was our captain, sir, pick'd up the glove, And scarce the trump had sounded to the onset, When the Turk Turbisha had lost his head. His brother, fierce Grualdo, enter'd next, But left the lists sans life or turban too. Last came black Bonamolgro, and he paid The same dear forfeit for the same attempt. And now my master, like a gallant knight, His sabre studied o'er with ruby gems, Prick'd on his prancing courser round the field, In vain inviting fresh assailants; while The beauteous dames of Regal, who, in throngs Lean'd o'er the rampart to behold the tourney, Threw show'rs of scarfs and favours from the wall, And wav'd their hands, and bid swift Mercuries Post from their eyes with messages of love; While manly modesty and graceful duty Wav'd on his snowy plume, and, as he rode, Bow'd down his casque unto the saddle bow.

GERALDINE. It was a deed of valour, and you've dress'd it In well-beseeming terms. And yet, methinks, I wonder at the ladies' strange delight; And think the spectacle might better suit An audience of warriors than of women. I'm sure I should have shudder'd—that is, sir, If I were woman.

WALTER. Cry your mercy, page; Were you a woman, you would love the brave. You're yet but boy; you'll know the truth of this, When father Time writes man upon your chin.

GERALDINE. No doubt I shall, sir, when I get a beard.

WALTER. My master, boy, has made it crystal clear: Be but a Mars, and you shall have your Venus.

Song.—WALTER.

Captain Smith is a man of might, In Venus' soft wars or in Mars' bloody fight: For of widow, or wife, or of damsel bright, A bold blade, you know, is all the dandy.

One day his sword he drew, And a score of Turks he slew; When done his toil, He snatch'd the spoil, And, as a part, The gentle heart Of the lovely lady Tragabizandy.

Captain Smith trod the Tartar land; While before him, in terror, fled the turban'd band, With his good broad-sword, that he whirl'd in his hand, To a three-tail'd bashaw he gave a pat-a.

The bashaw, in alarm, Turn'd tails, and fled his arm. But face to face, With lovely grace, In all her charms, Rush'd to his arms The beautiful lady Calamata.

Captain Smith, from the foaming seas, From pirates, and shipwreck, and miseries, In a French lady's arms found a haven of ease; Her name—pshaw! from memory quite gone 't has.

And on this savage shore, Where his faulchion stream'd with gore, His noble heart The savage dart Had quiver'd through; But swifter flew To his heart the pretty princess Pocahontas.

[Exit WALTER.

Enter KATE.

GERALDINE. Now, brother page—

KATE. Dear mistress, I have found My faithful Larry.

GERALDINE. Happy girl! and I Hope soon to meet my heart's dear lord, my Percy. Hist! the lord governor—

KATE. He little thinks Who is the page he loves so—

GERALDINE. Silence.

KATE. Mum.

Enter DELAWAR, WALTER, LARRY, &c.

DELAWAR. Each noble act of his that you recite Challenge all my wonder and applause. Your captain is a brave one; and I long To press the hero's hand. But look, my friends, What female's this, who, like the swift Camilla, On airy step flies hitherward?

WALTER. My lord, This is the lovely princess you have heard of; Our infant colony's best patroness; Nay, sir, its foster-mother.

DELAWAR. Mark how wild—

Music. The PRINCESS enters, with wild anxiety in her looks; searches eagerly around for SMITH and ROLFE.

DELAWAR. Whom do you look for, lady?

PRINCESS. They are gone! Gone to be slaughter'd!

WALTER. If you seek our captain, He has departed for your father's banquet.

PRINCESS. Then they have met, and they will both be lost, My lover and my friend. O! faithless path, That led me from my lover! Strangers, fly! If you're the white man's friends—

DELAWAR. Lady, we are.

PRINCESS. Then fly to save them from destruction!

DELAWAR. How?

PRINCESS. Inquire not; speak not; treachery and death Await them at the banquet.

DELAWAR. Haste, my friends, Give order for immediate departure.

PRINCESS. E'en now, perhaps, they bleed! O lover! brother! Fly, strangers, fly!

Music. Drum beats; a bustle; scene closes.

SCENE IV. At Werocomoco; banquet. SMITH, ROLFE, PERCY, NANTAQUAS, POWHATAN, &c., seated. GRIMOSCO, MIAMI and a number of INDIANS attending.

POWHATAN. White warriors, this is the feast of peace, and yet you wear your arms. Will not my friends lay by their warlike weapons? They fright our fearful people.

SMITH. Our swords are part of our apparel, king; Nor need your people fear them. They shall rest Peaceful within their scabbards, if Powhatan Call them not forth, with voice of enmity.

POWHATAN. Oh, that can never be! feast then in peace, Children and friends—

Leaves his place and comes forward to GRIMOSCO.

O priest! my soul is afraid it will be stained with dishonour.

GRIMOSCO. Away! the Great Spirit commands you. Resume your seat; hold the white men in discourse; I will but thrice wave my hand, and your foes are dead. [KING resumes his seat.] [To MIAMI.] Now, prince, has the hour of vengeance arrived.

POWHATAN. [With a faltering voice.] Think not, white men, that Powhatan wants the knowledge to prize your friendship. Powhatan has seen three generations pass away; and his locks of age do not float upon the temples of folly.

GRIMOSCO waves his hand: the INDIANS steal behind the ENGLISH, MIAMI behind ROLFE. KING proceeds.

If a leaf but fall in the forest, my people cry out with terror, "hark! the white warrior comes!" Chief, thou art terrible as an enemy, and Powhatan knows the value of thy friendship.

GRIMOSCO waves his hand again; the INDIANS seize their tomahawks, and prepare to strike. KING goes on.

Think not, therefore, Powhatan can attempt to deceive thee—

The KING'S voice trembles; he stops, unable to proceed. The INDIANS' eyes are fixed on GRIMOSCO, waiting for the last signal. At this moment the PRINCESS rushes in.

PRINCESS. Treachery to the white men!

At the same instant, drum and trumpet without. Music. The ENGLISH seize the uplifted arms of the INDIANS, and form a tableau, as enter DELAWAR and his party. After the music, the SOLDIERS take charge of the INDIANS. POCAHONTAS flies to the arms of ROLFE.

NANTAQUAS. O father!

[POWHATAN is transfixed with confusion.

SMITH. Wretched king! what fiend could urge you?

POWHATAN. Shame ties the tongue of Powhatan. Ask of that fiend-like priest, how, to please the angry Spirit, I was to massacre my friends.

SMITH. Holy Religion! still beneath the veil Of sacred piety what crimes lie hid! Bear hence that monster. Thou ferocious prince—

MIAMI. Miami's tortures shall not feast your eyes! [Stabbing himself.

SMITH. Rash youth, thou mightst have liv'd—

MIAMI. Liv'd! man, look there! [Pointing to ROLFE and PRINCESS. He is borne off.

POWHATAN. Oh, if the false Powhatan might—

SMITH. No more. Wiser than thou have been the dupes of priesthood. Your hand. The father of this gen'rous pair I cannot choose but love. My noble lord, I pray you pardon my scant courtesy And sluggish duty, which so tardy-paced Do greet your new arrival—

DELAWAR. Valiant captain! Virtue-ennobled sir, a hero's heart Will make mine proud by its most near acquaintance. [Embrace.

SMITH. Your coming was most opportune, my lord. One moment more—

DELAWAR. Nay, not to us the praise. Behold the brilliant star that led us on.

SMITH. Oh! blest is still its kindly influence! Could a rough soldier play the courtier, lady, His practis'd tongue might grace thy various goodness, With proper phrase of thanks; but oh! reward thee! Heaven only can—

PRINCESS. And has, my brother. See! I have its richest gift. [Turning to ROLFE.

ROLFE. My dearest love!

SMITH. Her brother, sir, and worthy of that name.

Introduces NANTAQUAS to DELAWAR; PERCY and GERALDINE, who had been conversing, advance.

PERCY. You tell me wonders.

GERALDINE. But not miracles. Being near the uncle, sir, I knew the lady.

PERCY. And was I then deceived?

GERALDINE. What, gentle Percy! Young man, 'twas not well done, in idle pique, To wound the heart that lov'd you.

PERCY. O sir! speak! My Geraldine, your niece, is she not married?

DELAWAR. Nor like to be, poor wench, but to her grave, If mourning for false lovers break maids' hearts.

PERCY. Was she then true? O madman! idiot! To let the feeble breath of empty rumour Drive me from heavenly happiness!

DELAWAR. Poor girl! She fain would have embark'd with me.

PERCY. Ah, sir! Why did she not?

DELAWAR. Marry, sir, I forbade her: The rough voyage would have shook her slender health To dissolution.

GERALDINE. Pardon, sir; not so—

DELAWAR. How now, pert page?

GERALDINE. For here she is, my lord. And the rough voyage has giv'n her a new life.

PERCY. My Geraldine!

DELAWAR. My niece! O brazenface! Approach me not; fly from your uncle's anger; Fly to your husband's arms for shelter, hussy!

[GERALDINE flies to PERCY'S embrace.

PERCY. Oh! speechless transport! mute let me infold thee!

DELAWAR. [To KATE.] And you, my little spark, perhaps, your cloak Covers another duteous niece—or daughter. Speak, lady: for I see that title writ In crimson characters upon your cheek. Art of my blood?

LARRY. No, sir, she's of my flesh; Flesh of my flesh, my lord. Now, arrah, Kate, Don't blush. This goodly company all knows My flesh may wear the breeches, without scandal.

WALTER. Listen not, Alice, to his sophistry. Sir, if our good wives learn this argument, They'll logically pluck away our—

ALICE. Tut: Fear ye not that; for when a woman would, She'll draw them on without a rule of reason.

DELAWAR. Methinks 'tis pairing time among the turtles. Who have we here?

ROBIN and NIMA come forward.

ROBIN. A pair of pigeons, sir; or rather a robin and a dove. A wild thing, sir, that I caught in the wood here. But when I have clipt her wings, and tamed her, I hope (without offence to this good company) that we shall bill without biting more than our neighbours.

SMITH. Joy to ye, gentle lovers; joy to all; A goodly circle, and a fair. Methinks Wild Nature smooths apace her savage frown, Moulding her features to a social smile. Now flies my hope-wing'd fancy o'er the gulf That lies between us and the aftertime, When this fine portion of the globe shall teem With civiliz'd society; when arts, And industry, and elegance shall reign, As the shrill war-cry of the savage man Yields to the jocund shepherd's roundelay. Oh, enviable country! thus disjoin'd From old licentious Europe! may'st thou rise, Free from those bonds which fraud and superstition In barbarous ages have enchain'd her with;— Bidding the antique world with wonder view A great, yet virtuous empire in the west!

Finale.

Freedom, on the western shore Float thy banner o'er the brave; Plenty, here thy blessings pour; Peace, thy olive sceptre wave!

PERCY, WALTER, &c.

Fire-eyed Valour, guard the land; Here uprear thy fearless crest;

PRINCESS, KATE, ALICE, &c.

Love, diffuse thy influence bland O'er the regions of the west.

CHORUS, Freedom, &c.

LARRY.

Hither, lassie, frank and pretty, Come and live without formality. Thou, in English christen'd Pity, But call'd, in Irish, Hospitality.

CHORUS, Freedom, &c.

The End.



TRANSCRIBERS' NOTES

Page 576: invigourate as in original.

Pages 580, 627: inconsistent hyphenation of after(-)time as in original.