The listening throng, with awe profound,
Of every word drank in the sound;
The voice of Powhatan was law;{11}
But in that glittering pile they saw
A charm that had a magic power
They never felt before that hour.
The monarch saw their kindling fire,
And yielded to their strong desire,
And when again they form’d the ring,
He gravely bade Pamunky’s king
Dispense the gifts, and see with care
That each received his proper share.
The chiefs, in dazzling toys array’d,
Each other with delight survey’d,
And turn’d their trinkets in the light,
And danced for joy at the very sight.
The war-cloud from their brows was chased,
And the pale-face foes had been embraced
As friends and brothers, had they been
But in that hall of council then.
But Powhatan’s dark eye of flame
Their ecstacy began to tame,
And when again his voice was heard
No word was spoke, no foot was stirr’d,
While he made known his sovereign will,
And bade them every word fulfil.
He charged them all to sleep at night
On tomahawk and bow,
And to watch by day with eagle eye
The footsteps of the foe;
To keep their arrows pointed well,
Their bow-strings strong and sure,
And see that among them friendship’s chain
Was ever bright and pure:
And then with royal majesty
His mantle around him threw,
And cross’d the hall with stately step,
And silently withdrew.