The Indian Princess

Robin. Our heads?

Walter.

Yes, faith! they'll soon collect their capitation.They wear men's heads, sir, hanging at the breast,Instead of jewels; and at either ear,Most commonly, a child's, by way of ear-drop.

Robin.

Oh! curse their finery! jewels, heads, O Lord!

Larry.

Pshaw man! don't fear. Perhaps they'll only burn us.What a delicate roasted Robin you wou'd make!Troth! they'd so lick their lips!

Robin.

A roasted robin! —Walter.Tut! if they only burn us, 'twill be brave.Robin shall make our death-songs.

Robin.

Death-songs, oh![Robin stands motionless with fear.

Larry.

By the good looking right eye of Saint Patrick,There's Rolfe and Percy, with a tribe of Indians.[Looking out.

Robin.

Indians! they're pris'ners, and we – we're dead men![While Walter and Larry exeunt, Robin gets up into a tree.]O Walter, Larry! ha! what gone, all gone!Poor Robin, what is to become of thee? Enter Smith, Pocahontas, Nantaquas, Percy, Rolfe, Nima and Indians, Larry and Walter

Smith.

At hazard of her own dear life she saved me.E'en the warm friendship of the prince had fail'd,And death, inevitable death, hung over me.Oh, had you seen her fly, like Pity's herald,To stay the uplifted hatchet in its flight;Or heard her, as with cherub voice she pled,Like Heav'n's own angel-advocate, for mercy.Pocahontas. My brother, speak not so.[Bashfully.

Rolfe.

What gentleness!What sweet simplicity! what angel softness!Rolfe goes to her. She, timidly, but with evident pleasure, receives his attentions. During this scene the Princess discovers the first advances of love in a heart of perfect simplicity. Smith, &c., converse apart

Robin. [In the tree.] Egad! there's never a head hanging to their ears; and their ears hang to their heads, for all the world as if they were christians; I'll venture down among them.

[Getting down.

Nima. Ah!

[Bends her bow, and is about to shoot at him.

Larry. Arrah! my little dark Diana, choose noble game, that's only little Robin.

Robin. Aye, bless you, I'm only little Robin.

[Jumps down.Nima examines him curiously, but fearfully

Robin. Gad, she's taken with my figure; ah! there it is now; a personable fellow shall have his wench any where. Yes, she's admiring my figure. Well, my dusky dear, how could you like such a man as I am?

Nima. Are you a man?

Robin. I'll convince you of it some day. Hark ye, my dear.

[Attempts to whisper.

Nima. Ah! don't bite.

Robin. Bite! what do you take me for?

Nima. A racoon.

Robin. A racoon! Why so?

Nima. You run up the tree.

[Motions as if climbing.

Larry.

Well said, my little pagan Pythagoras! —Ha! ha!Robin. Hum![Retires disconcerted.Rolfe and Percy come forward

Rolfe.

Tell me, in sooth, didst ever mark such sweetness!Such winning – such bewitching gentleness!

Percy.

What, caught, my flighty friend, love-lim'd at last?O Cupid, Cupid! thou'rt a skilful birder.Although thou spread thy net, i' the wilderness,Or shoot thy bird-bolt from an Indian bow,Or place thy light in savage ladies' eyes,Or pipe thy call in savage ladies' voices,Alas! each tow'ring tenant of the airMust fall heart pierc'd – or stoop, at thy command,To sigh his sad notes in thy cage, O Cupid!

Rolfe.

A truce; a truce! O friend, her guiltless breastSeems Love's pavilion, where, in gentle sleep,The unrous'd boy has rested. O my Percy!Could I but wake the slumb'rer —

Percy.

Nay, i' faith,Take courage; thou hast given the alarm:Methinks the drowsy god gets up apace.

Rolfe.

Say'st thou?

Smith.

Come, gentlemen, we'll toward the town.

Nantaquas. My sister, you will now return to our father.

Princess. Return, my brother?

Nantaquas. Our father lives but while you are near him. Go, my sister, make him happy with the knowledge of his son's happiness. Farewell, my sister!

[The Princess appears dejected.

Smith.

Once more, my guardian angel, let me thank thee.[Kissing her hand.Ere long we will return to thee, with presentsWell worth a princess' and a king's acceptance.Meantime, dear lady, tell the good PowhatanWe'll show the prince such grace and entertainment,As shall befit our brother and his son.Adieu, sweet sister. Music. They take leave of the Princess; she remains silently dejected; her eyes anxiously follow Rolfe, who lingers behind, and is the last to take leave

Princess. Stranger, wilt thou too come to Werocomoco?

Rolfe. Dost thou wish it, lady?

Princess. [Eagerly.] O yes!

Rolfe. And why, lovely lady?

Princess. My eyes are pleased to see thee, and my ears to hear thee, stranger.

Rolfe. And did not the others who were here also please thy sight and hearing?

Princess. Oh! they were all goodly; but – their eyes looked not like thine; their voices sounded not like thine; and their speeches were not like thy speeches, stranger.

Rolfe. Enchanting simplicity! But why call me stranger? Captain Smith thou callest brother. Call me so too.

Princess. Ah, no!

Rolfe. Then thou thinkest not of me as thou dost of him? [She shakes her head and sighs.] Is Captain Smith dear to thee?

Princess. Oh yes! very dear; [Rolfe is uneasy.] and Nantaquas too: they are my brothers; – but – that name is not thine – thou art —

Rolfe. What, lovely lady?

Princess. I know not; I feel the name thou art, but I cannot speak it.

Rolfe. I am thy lover, dear princess.

Princess. Yes, thou art my lover. But why call me princess?

Rolfe. Dear lady, thou art a king's daughter.

Princess. And if I were not, what wouldst thou call me?

Rolfe. Oh! if thou wert a beggar's, I would call thee love!

Princess. I know not what a beggar is; but oh! I would I were a beggar's daughter, so thou wouldst call me love. Ah! do not longer call me king's daughter. If thou feelest the name as I do, call me as I call thee: thou shalt be my lover; I will be thy lover.

Rolfe. Enchanting, lovely creature!

[Kisses her ardently.

Princess. Lover, thou hast made my cheek to burn, and my heart to beat! Mark it.

Rolfe. Dear innocence!

[Putting his hand to her heart.

Princess. Lover, why is it so? To-day before my heart beat, and mine eyes were full of tears; but then my white brother was in danger. Thou art not in danger, and yet behold – [Wipes a tear from her eye.] Besides, then, my heart hurt me, but now! Oh, now! – Lover, why is it so?

[Leaning on him with innocent confidence.

Rolfe. Angel of purity! thou didst to-day feel pity; and now – Oh, rapturous task to teach thee the difference! – now, thou dost feel love.

Princess. Love!

Rolfe. Love: the noblest, the sweetest passion that could swell thy angel bosom.

Princess. Oh! I feel that 'tis very sweet. Lover, with thy lips thou didst make me feel it. My lips shall teach thee sweet love. [Kisses him, and artlessly looks up in his face; placing her hand upon his heart.] Does thy heart beat?

Rolfe. Beat! O heaven! —

[Robin, who had been with Nima, comes forward.

Robin. Gad! we must end our amours, or we shall be left. Sir, my master, hadn't we better —

Rolfe. Booby! idiot!

Enter Walter

Walter. Sir, lieutenant, the captain awaits your coming up.

Rolfe. I'll follow on the instant.

Princess. Thou wilt not go?

Rolfe. But for a time, love.

Princess. I do not wish thee to leave me.

Rolfe. I must, love; but I will return.

Princess. Soon – very soon?

Rolfe. Very – very soon.

Princess. I am not pleased now – and yet my heart beats. Oh, lover!

Rolfe. My angel! there shall not a sun rise and set, ere I am with thee. Adieu! thy own heavenly innocence be thy safeguard. Farewell, sweet love!

Music. He embraces her and exit, followed by Robin and Walter. Princess looks after him. A pause

Princess. O Nima!

Nima. Princess, white men are pow-wows. The white man put his lips here, and I felt something – here —

[Putting her hand to her heart.

Princess. O lover!

She runs to the place whence Rolfe went out, and gazes after him Music. Enter from opposite side, Miami

Miami. [Sternly.] Princess!

Princess. [Turning.] Ah!

Miami. Miami has followed thy steps. Thou art the friend of the white men.

Princess. Yes, for they are good and godlike.

Miami. Mine eyes beheld the pale youth part from you; your arms were entwined, your lips were together!

[Struggling with jealousy.

Princess. He is my lover; I am his lover.

[Still looking after Rolfe.

Miami. [Stamps with anger.] Hear me! In what do the red yield to the white men? and who among the red men is like Miami? While I was yet a child, did the dart which my breath blew through my sarbacan ever fail to pierce the eye of the bird? What youth dared, like Miami, to leap from the precipice, and drag the struggling bear from the foaming torrent? Is there a hunter – is there a warrior – skilful and brave as Miami? Come to my cabin, and see the scalps and the skins that adorn it. They are the trophies of the Susquehannock!

Princess. Man, mine eyes will never behold thy trophies. They are not pleased to look on thee.

[Averting her eyes with disgust.

Miami. Ha! [Pause – he resumes in a softened tone.] Princess, I have crossed many woods and waters, that I might bear the daughter of Powhatan to my nation. Shall my people cry out, with scorn, "behold! our prince returns without his bride?" In what is the pale youth above the red Miami?

Princess. Thine eyes are as the panther's; thy voice like the voice of the wolf. Thou shouldst make my heart beat with joy; and I tremble before thee. Oh no! Powhatan shall give me to my lover. I will be my lover's bride!

Music. Miami stamps furiously; his actions betray the most savage rage of jealousy; he rushes to seize the Princess, but, recollecting that her attendants are by, he goes out in an agony, by his gestures menacing revenge. The Princess exit on the opposite side, followed by trainScene III. Werocomoco Music. Enter from the palace Powhatan and Grimosco; met by the Princess, who runs to her father

Powhatan. My daughter!

Princess. O father! the furious Miami!

Powhatan. What of the prince?

Princess. Father, my father! do not let the fierce prince bear me to his cruel nation!

Powhatan. How!

Princess. By the spirit of my mother, I implore my father. Oh! if thou deliver me to the Susquehannock, think not thine eyes shall ever again behold me; the first kind stream that crosses our path shall be the end of my journey; my soul shall seek the soul of the mother that loved me, far beyond the mountains.

Powhatan. Daughter, mention not thy mother!

Princess. Her shade will pity her unhappy child, and I shall be at rest in her bosom.

[Weeping.

Powhatan. Rest in my bosom, my child! [She starts with joyful emotion.] Thou shalt not go from thy father.

Princess. Father; dear father!

[Seizing his hand. Music. An Indian enters, bearing a red hatchet

Indian. King!

Powhatan. Thou art of the train of the Susquehannock: speak.

Indian. My prince demands his bride.

[The Princess clings fearfully to the King.

Powhatan. Tell thy prince, my daughter will not leave her father.

Indian. Will Powhatan forget his promise to Miami?

Powhatan. Powhatan will not forget his promise to her mother; and he vowed, while the angel of death hovered over her, that the eye of tender care should never be averted from her darling daughter.

Indian. Shall not then my prince receive his bride?

Powhatan. The daughter of Powhatan – never.

Indian. Take then his defiance.

[Music. He presents the red hatchet.

Powhatan. The red hatchet! 'Tis well. Grimosco, summon our warriors.

Grimosco. O king! might I —

Powhatan. Speak not. Tell our chiefs to assemble; and show them the war-signal [Exit Grimosco.]. Go, tell your master, the great Powhatan will soon meet him, terrible as the minister of vengeance. [Exit Indian.] The chiefs approach. My child, retire from this war scene.

Princess. O dear parent! thine age should have been passed in the shade of peace; and do I bring my father to the bloody war-path?

Powhatan. Not so; the young prince has often dared my power, and merited my vengeance; he shall now feel both.

Princess. Alas! his nation is numerous and warlike.

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 AresquiAresqui! Aresqui!Lo! thy sons for war prepare!Snakes adorn each painted head,While the cheek of flaming redGives 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 arightLo! we're ready for the fight.[March to battle.

ACT III

Scene I. Jamestown – builtWalter 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?

Walter. Marry, girl, thus it was: when we had given the enemies of our ally, Powhatan, defeature, and sent the rough Miami in chains to Werocomoco, our captain dispatches his lieutenant, Rolfe, to supply his place, here, in the town; and leading us to the water's edge, and leaping into the pinnace, away went we on a voyage of discovery. Some thousand miles we sailed, and many strange nations discovered; and for our exploits, if posterity reward us not, there is no faith in history.

Alice.

And what were your exploits?

Walter.

Rare ones, egad!We took the devil, Okee, prisoner.

Alice.

And have you brought him hither?

Walter.

No: his vot'riesRedeem'd him with some score or two of deer-skins.Then we've made thirty kings our tributaries:Such sturdy rogues, that each could easilyFillip a buffalo to death with 's finger.Alice. But have you got their treasures?

Walter.

All, my girl.Imperial robes of raccoon, crowns of feather;Besides the riches of their sev'ral kingdoms —A full boat load of corn.

Alice.

Oh, wonderful!

Walter.

Aye, is it not? But, best of all, I've kiss'dThe little finger of a mighty queen.Sweet soul! among the court'sies of her court,She gave us a Virginian mascarado.

Alice.

Dost recollect the fashion of it?

Walter.

Oh!Were I to live till Time were in his dotage,'Twould never from mine eyes. Imagine first,The scene, a gloomy wood; the time, midnight;Her squawship's maids of honour were the masquers;Their masks were wolves' heads curiously set on,And, bating a small difference of hue,Their dress e'en such as madam Eve had onOr ere she eat the apple.

Alice.

Pshaw!

Walter.

These dresses,All o'er perfum'd with the self-same pomadoWhich our fine dames at home buy of old Bruin,Glisten'd most gorgeously unto the moon.Thus, each a firebrand brandishing aloft,Rush'd they all forth, with shouts and frantic yells,In dance grotesque and diabolical,Madder than mad Bacchantes.

Alice.

O the powers!

Walter.

When they had finished the divertisementA beauteous Wolf-head came to me —

Alice.

To you?

Walter.

And lit me with her pine-knot torch to bedward,Where, as the custom of the court it was,The beauteous Wolf-head blew the flambeau out,And then —

Alice.

Well!

Walter.

Then, the light being out, you know,To all that follow'd I was in the dark.Now you look grave. In faith I went to sleep.Could a grim wolf rival my gentle lamb?No, truly, girl: though in this wildernessThe trees hang full of divers colour'd fruit,From orange-tawny to sloe-black, egad,They'll hang until they rot or ere I pluck them,While I've my melting, rosy nonpareil.[Kiss.

Alice.

Oh! you're a Judas!

Walter.

Then am I a Jew! Enter Smith, Percy, Nantaquas, Larry, &c

Smith.

Yet, prince, accept at least my ardent thanks:A thousand times told over, they would failTo pay what you and your dear sister claim.Through my long absence from my people here,You have sustain'd their feebleness.

Nantaquas.

O brother,To you, the conqueror of our father's foes;To you, the sun which from our darken'd mindsHas chas'd the clouds of error, what can weNot to remain your debtors?

Smith.

Gen'rous soul!Your friendship is my pride. But who knows aughtOf our young Rolfe?

Percy.

This morning, sir, I hear,An hour ere our arrival, the lieutenantAccompanied the princess to her father's.

Smith.

Methinks our laughing friend has found at lastThe power of sparkling eyes. What say you, prince,To a brave, worthy soldier for your brother?

Nantaquas.

Were I to choose, I'd put all other byTo make his path-way clear unto my sister.But come, sir, shall we to my father's banquet?One of my train I've sent to give him tidingsOf your long-wish'd for coming.

Smith.

Gentle prince,You greet my fresh return with welcome summons,And I obey it cheerfully. Good Walter,And, worthy sir [To Larry.], be it your careTo play the queen bee here, and keep the swarmStill gathering busily. Look to it well:Our new-raised hive must hold no drones within it.Now, forward, sirs, to Werocomoco.[Exeunt Smith, Prince, Percy, &c. Manent Walter and Larry

Walter.

So, my compeer in honour, we must holdThe staff of sway between us.

Larry.

Arrah, man,If we hould it between us, any rogueShall run clean off before it knocks him down,While at each end we tug for mastery.

Walter.

Tush, man! we'll strike in unison.

Larry.

Go to —

Walter.

And first, let's to the forest – the young sparksIn silken doublets there are felling trees,Poor, gentle masters, with their soft palms blister'd;And, while they chop and chop, they swear and swear,Drowning with oaths the echo of their axe.

Larry.

Are they so hot in choler?

Walter.

Aye.

Larry.

We'll cool 'em;And pour cold patience down their silken sleeves.

Walter.

Cold patience!

Larry.

In the shape of water, honey.

Walter.

A notable discovery; come away!

Larry.

Ha! isn't that a sail?

Walter.

A sail! a fleet![Looking toward the river. Enter Talman

Talman.

We have discovered nine tall ships.

Larry.

Discovered!Away, you rogue, we have discovered them,With nature's telescopes. Run – scud – begone —Down to the river! Och, St. Pat, I thank you!Go toward river. Huzza within. Music expresses joyful bustle. Scene closesScene 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 pathAt every pace, or fix my side-long look,Spell-bound, upon thy beauties.

Princess.

Ah! you love notThe 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 forgetAll 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! longI was the savage child of savage Nature;And when her flowers sprang up, while each green boughSang 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 motherWith 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 heartWith 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 huntersPursue the deer, or clasp the melting maid,'Mid ever blooming spring? Thence, soaring highFrom the deep vale of legendary fiction,Hast thou not heaven-ward turn'd my dazzled sight,Where sing the spirits of the blessed goodAround 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 groundStain'd by licentious step; Oh, long beforeThe 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 thenOnly with sorrow's poppy on my lids. Music. Embrace; and exit Rolfe, followed by Robin; Princess looks around despondinglyBut 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!SongWhen the midnight of absence the day-scene pervadingDistils 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 deadRaises up its blushing head,Glows again the breast of love,Laughs again the joyful grove;While once more the mock-bird's throatTrolls the sweetly various note.But ah! when dark absence the day-scene pervadingDistils 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.