human
Can you write me a poem about theodore de bry in the style of E. (Edith) Nesbit?
assistant
Sure, here's a poem about theodore de bry in the style of E. (Edith) Nesbit:
  _All rights reserved_
"While within its bright'ning dimness,
With the misty halo 'round her,
Stood a beautiful white maiden"
unsurpassed enterprise and perseverance he continued to send
instrumental in bringing about the failure of those plans and in
defeating the Spanish fleet, which had been boastingly named The
_Raleigh_, named in honor of that great man by the nation he had
distinguished in prose and poetry, as a soldier he won fame and
possible, are cultivators of the grape, take great pride in their
"Dry became the magic fountain,
Leaving bare the silver arrow."
Then while O-kis-ko looked on in wonderment he saw
"a tiny shoot with leaflets
Pushing upward to the sunlight."
Tradition says that this "tiny shoot with leaflets" was a young
seedling of the Scuppernong which had sprouted in the edge of the
official records tell.
By Sir Walter Raleigh's command the rite of baptism had been
strengthen the tie which binds England and the United States.
_1 "While within its bright'ning dimness,
With the misty halo 'round her,
Stood a beautiful white maiden"_                 FRONTISPIECE
_3 Old "Mother" Scuppernong Vine_                           _xii_
_4 Among the Scuppernongs.--A Modern Vineyard_              _xiv_
_5 A "Virginia Dare" Vineyard_                              _xvi_
_8 The Land-of-Wind-and-Water_                               _32_
_9 Man-te-o, a Chiefe Lorde of Roanoak_                      _34_
_10 "Then a New Canoe he fashioned"_                         _52_
_11 The Magician of Po-mou-ik_                               _58_
Frontispiece from an original drawing by May Louise
Maps and remaining illustrations reproduced from
Theodore de Bry's edition of "The True Pictures and
Fashions of the People in that Parte of America now
In the tomb of vanished ages sleep th' ungarnered truths of Time,
Deeds of sacrifice and danger, which the careless earth forgets,
There, in ever-deep'ning shadows, lie embalmed in mute regrets.
Would-be-gleaners of the Present vainly grope amid this gloom;
Yet a perfume, sweet and subtle, lingers where each flower grew,
For the Seeds of Truth are buried in a legend's inmost heart,
To transplant them in the sunlight justifies the poet's art.
Shimmering waters, aweary of tossing,
Hopeful of rest, ripple on to the shore;
Dimpling with light, as they waver and quiver,
Echoing faintly the ocean's wild roar.
Locked in the arms of the tremulous waters
Nestles an island, with beauty abloom,
Where the warm kiss of an amorous summer
Fills all the air with a languid perfume.
Windward, the roar of the turbulent breakers
Warns of the dangers of rock and of reef;
Burdened with mem'ries of sorrowful shipwreck,
They break on the sands in torrents of grief.
Leeward, the forest, grown giant in greenness,
Shelters a land where a fervid sun shines;
Wild with the beauty of riotous nature,
Thick with the tangles of fruit-laden vines.[A]
From fragrant clusters, grown purple with ripeness,
Rare, spicy odors float out to the sea,[B]
Where the gray gulls flit with restless endeavor,
Skimming the waves in their frolicsome glee.
Out from the shore stalks the stately white heron,
Seeking his food from the deep without fear,
Gracefully waving wide wings as he rises
When the canoe of the Indian draws near.
Through reedy brake and the tangled sea-grasses
Wander the stag and the timid-eyed doe[C]
Down to the water's edge, watchful and wary
For arrows that fly from the red hunter's bow.
Fearless Red Hunter! his birthright the forest,
Lithe as the antelope, joyous and free.
Trusting his bow for his food and his freedom,
Wresting a tribute from forest and sea,
No chilling forecast of doom in the future
Daunts his brave spirit, by freedom made bold.
Far o'er the wildwood he roams at his pleasure,
The fierce, brawny Red Man is king of the wold.
Lo! in the offing the white sails are gleaming,
Ships from afar to the land drawing nigh;
Laden with men, strong and brave to meet danger,
Stalwart of form, fair of skin, blue of eye.
Boldly they land where the white man is alien;
Women are with them, with hearts true and brave;
Sadly they stand where their countrymen perished,[D]
Seeking a home where _they_ found but a grave.
Friendly red hunters greet them with kindness,
Tell the sad tale how their countrymen died,[E]
Beg for a token of friendship and safety,[F]
Promise in love and in peace to abide.
Manteo's heart glows with friendly remembrance,
He greets them as brothers and offers good cheer;
No thrill of welcome is felt by Wanchese,[G]
His heart is bitter with malice and fear.
Envying men his superiors in wisdom,
Fearing a race his superiors in skill;
Sullen and silent he watches the strangers,
Whom from the first he determines to kill.
Then the sign of the Cross, on the brow of the Indian,[H]
Seals to the savage the promise of life;
Sweet symbol of sacrifice, emblem of duty,
Standard of Peace, though borne amidst strife:
Draped with the sombre, stained banner of Conquest,
Dark with the guilt of man's murder and greed,
Yet bright with God's message of love and forgiveness
Unto a universe welded to creed.
Gently the morning breeze tosses the tree-tops,
Low ebbs the tide on the outlying sand;
When a tiny white babe opens eyes to the sunlight,[I]
Heaven's sweet pledge for the weal of the land.
Babe of the Wilderness! tenderly cherished!
Signed with the Cross on the next Sabbath Day;
Brave English Mother! through danger and sorrow,
For a nation of Christians thou leadest the way.
Back to the home-land, across the deep water,
Goes the wise leader, their needs to abate;[J]
Leaving with sorrow the babe and its mother
In a strange land as a hostage to Fate.
Many long months pass in busy home-making,
Sweet English customs prevail on the isle;
Anxious eyes watch for the ship in the offing,
Saddened hearts droop, but the lips bravely smile.
Gone are the sweet dreamy days of the summer,
In from the ocean the winter winds shriek;
Dangers encompass and enemies threaten,
Mother and child other refuge must seek.
Mother and child, as in Bethlehem story,
Flee from the hate of their blood-thirsty foes;
Hopeless of help from their own land and people,
They seek friendly tribes to find rest from their woes.
To the fair borders of Croatoan Island,
Over the night-covered waters they flee;
Seeking for safety with Manteo's people,
Leaving the word "Croatoan" on a tree.[K]
Name of the refuge in which they sought shelter,
Only the name of a tribe, nothing more;[L]
Sign whereby those who would seek them might follow
To their new home on the Croatoan's shore.
Why did they leave the rude fort they had builded?
Why did they seek far away a new home?
O innocent babe! Roanoak's lost nestling!
How shall we learn where thy footsteps did roam?
'Mid the rude tribes of the primeval forest,
Bearing the signet of Christ on thy brow,
Wert thou the teacher and guide of the savage?
Who, of thy mission, can aught tell us now?
Through the dim ages comes only the perfume,
Left where the flowers of Truth fell to earth;
With ne'er a gleaner to treasure the blossoms,
Save the sweet petals of baptism and birth.
Vainly we seek on Time's shore for thy footprints,
Hid in a mist of pathos is thy fate;
Yet of a life under savage enchantment
Quaint Indian legends do strangely relate.
In the Land-of-Wind-and-Water,
Loud the sea bemoaned its sameness;
Dashing shoreward with impatience
To explore the landward mysteries.
On the sand the waves spread boldly,
Vainly striving to reach higher;
Then abashed by vain ambition,
Glided to their ordained duty.
There the pine-tree, tall and stately,
Whispered low the ocean's murmur;
Strove to soothe the restless waters
With its lullaby of sighing.
There the tall and dank sea-grasses,
From the storm-tide gathered secrets
Of the caverns filled with treasures,
Milky pearls and tinted coral,
Stores of amber and of jacinth,
In the caves festooned with sea-weed,
Where the Sea-King held his revels
And the Naiads danced in beauty.
In this Land-of-Wind-and-Water,
Dowered with the sunshine's splendor,
Juicy grapes grew in profusion,
Draping all the trees with greenness,
And the maize grew hard and yellow,
With the sunshine in its kernels.
Through the forest roamed the black bear,
And the red deer boldly herded;
Through the air flew birds of flavor,
And the sea was full of fishes,
Till the Red Man knew no hunger,
And his wigwam hung with trophies.
There brave Man-te-o, the Faithful,
Ruled the Cro-a-to-ans with firmness,
Dwelt in peace beside the waters,
Smoked his pipe beneath the pine-tree,
Gazed with pride upon his bear-skins
Which hung ready for the winter.
Told his people all the marvels
Of the Land-of-the-Pale-Faces;
Of the ships with wings like sea-birds
Wherein he had crossed the water;[M]
Whom he saw in her own country;
Of her robes of silken texture,
Of her wisdom and her power;
Told them of her warlike people
And their ships which breathed the lightning.
How he pledged with them a friendship,
Hoping they would come to teach him
How to make his people mighty,
How to make them strong in battle
So the other tribes would fear them.
And the dream of future greatness
Filled the Cro-a-to-ans with courage;
And their hearts grew warm and friendly
To the race of white-faced strangers.
When bold white men came among them,
To the isle of Ro-a-no-ak,
Man-te-o, the friendly Weroance,
Faithful proved to all his pledges.
Smoked with them the pipe of friendship,
Took their God to be his Father;
Took upon his swarthy forehead
Their strange emblem of salvation,[O]
Father of all tribes and nations.
Man-te-o, the friend and brother,
Bade them fear the false Wan-ches-e,
And the Weroance Win-gin-a,
Whose hearts burned with bitter hatred
For the men they feared in combat,
For the strangers who defied them.
When the Pale-Face, weak and hungry,
Feeble from continued labor,
Shivered in the blasts of winter
Which blew cold across the water,
Then Wan-ches-e planned their ruin,
With Win-gin-a sought to slay them.
To the isle of Ro-a-no-ak,
Where the Pale-Face slept unguarded,
Sped the swift canoes of Red Men,
Gliding through the silent shadows.
As the sky grew red with dawning,[P]
While they dreamed of home and kindred,
Suddenly with whoop of murder
Wily Indians swarmed around them.
Skill of Pale-Face, craft of Red Man,
Met in fierce, determined battle;
While within the Fort called Ralegh
Many arrows fell, like raindrops.
Arrows tipped with serpent's poison,
Arrows tipped with blazing rosin,
Winged with savage thirst for murder,
Aimed with cruel skill to torture.
Threatened by the blazing roof-tree
Then the Pale-Face crouched in terror;
Saw the folly of resistance,
Feared his doom, and fled for safety.
Man-te-o, alert for danger,
From afar saw signs of conflict;
Saw the waves of smoke ascending
Heavenward, like prayers for rescue.
Swift, with boats and trusty warriors,
Crossed he then to Ro-a-no-ak;
Strong to help his Pale-Face brothers,
Faithful to his friendly pledges.
As the daylight slowly faded,
Hopeless of the bloody struggle,
Stealthily the Pale-Face warriors
Fled with Man-te-o's brave people.
Left they then the Fort called Ralegh,
Left the dead within its stockade;
Sought another island refuge,
Hoping there to rest in safety.
Man-te-o sought for the mother,[Q]
She with babe there born and nurtured
'Neath the shadow of disaster,
In the Land-of-Wind-and-Water.
"Come," said he, "the darkness falleth,
All your people must flee henceward;
Wan-ches-e will show no mercy,
You must not become his captive.
Take the papoose from thy bosom,
Call the white chief whom thou lovest,
Haste with me upon the flood-tide
To my wigwam on Wo-ko-kon."
Noiseless, she amid the conflict
Sought her heart's mate to flee with her;
Useless all the strife and courage,
Useless all the rude home-making;
Shrine for worship, fort for safety,
Hope of future peace and plenty,
All were vain; yet life we cherish,
Far above all boons we hold it:
So she hastened on her mission
For the life of self and loved ones.
As they neared the island border,
Pale-Face husband, child, and mother,
Man-te-o in silence leading,
Every sense alive to danger,
Suddenly the Pale-Face father
Thought him of the parting caution
Given by their absent leader:
If they fled in search of safety
On a tree to leave a token,
Whereby he might surely find them,
In the land which gave them shelter,
When he came again to seek them.[R]
By his side a sturdy live-oak
Spread its green, protecting branches;
Quick he strove to carve the token
Which should speak to all who followed.
Cut he in the tree's firm body,
When a random, poisoned arrow
Pierced his heart, and he fell lifeless.
With a smothered cry of horror,
In an agony of sorrow,
She would fain have lingered near him,
But that Man-te-o urged onward.
If discovered, flight was futile,
Weakness now meant worse disaster;
She must save her helpless baby
Though her heart be rent with anguish.
Frantic with love's desolation,
Strong with thoughts of home and father,
With a woman's wondrous calmness
When great peril calls for action,
Safe she placed the sleeping infant
'Cross the brawny arms of Man-te-o,
While with knife drawn from his girdle
Carved she on another live-oak
Plain, the one word "CROATOAN"[T]
As a sign to all her people.
Trusting all to savage friendship,
Cutting hope with every letter,
Praying God to guide her father
To the haven she was seeking.
Trust is woman's strongest bulwark,
All true manhood yields unto it.
As her sad eyes turned upon him
Man-te-o was moved with pity
For the brave and tender woman,
Friendless in the land without him.
On the brow of Pale-Face baby
First he made the Holy Cross-Sign;
Then upon the sad-eyed mother
Traced the sign her people taught him;
Then again the sacred symbol
Outlined on his own dark forehead;
And with open hand uplifted
Sealed his promise of protection;
Linking thus his pledge of safety
With her faith in Unseen Power.
Mute with grief, she trusted in him;
In his boat they crossed the water,
While the night fell like a mantle
Spread in mercy to help save them.
When in Cro-a-to-an they landed,
There they found the few survivors
Of that day of doom to many,
Glad once more to greet each other.
Man-te-o within his wigwam
From the cold wind gave them shelter,
Shared with them his furry bear-skins,
Made them warm, and warmth gave courage
To meet life's relentless duties.
Then he summoned all the people,
Called the old men and the young men,
Bade the squaws to come and listen,
Showed the papoose to the women.
They gazed on its tender whiteness,
Stroked the mother's flaxen tresses;
"'Tis a snow-papoose" they whispered,
"It will melt when comes the summer."
Man-te-o said to the warriors:
"Ye all know these Pale-Face people
Whom Wan-ches-e sought to murder,
They have often made us welcome.
Brave their hearts, but few are living,
If left friendless these will perish;
We have store of corn and venison,
They are hungry, let us feed them;
They have lightning for their arrows,
Let them teach us how to shoot it.
They with us shall search the forest,
And our game shall be abundant;
Let them teach us their strange wisdom
And become with us one people."
And the old men, grave in counsel,
And the young men, mute with deference,
While the uppowoc[U] was burning,
Pondered on his words thus spoken,
And to Man-te-o gave answer:
"All your words are full of wisdom;
We will share with them our venison,
They shall be as our own people."
From the isle of Ro-a-no-ak
Thus the Pale-Face fled for succor,
Thus in Cro-a-to-an's fair borders
Found a home with friendly Red Men.
Nevermore to see white faces,
Nevermore to see their home-land,
Yet to all the future ages
Sending proof of honest daring;
Forging thus a link of effort
In the chain of human progress.
Nature feels no throb of pity,
Makes no pause for human heartbreak;
Though with agony we quiver,
She gives forth no sign of feeling.
Waxed and waned the moon, in season,
Ebbed and flowed the tides obedient;
Summers filled the land with plenty,
Winters chilled the summers' ardor.
No winged ships gleamed in the offing;
No Pale-Faces sought their kindred;
In the Land-of-Wind-and-Water
Roamed the Red Man unmolested.
While the babe of Ro-a-no-ak
Grew in strength and wondrous beauty;
Like a flower of the wildwood,
Bloomed beside the Indian maidens.
And Wi-no-na Skâ[V] they called her,
She of all the maidens fairest.
In the tangles of her tresses
Sunbeams lingered, pale and yellow;
In her eyes the limpid blueness
Of the noonday sky was mirrored.
And the squaws of darksome features
Smiled upon her fair young beauty;
Felt their woman hearts within them
Warming to the Pale-Face maiden.
And the braves, who scorned all weakness,
Listened to her artless prattle,
While their savage natures softened,
Of the change themselves unconscious.
Like the light of summer morning
Beaming on a world in slumber
Was the face of young Wi-no-na
To the Cro-a-to-ans who loved her.
She, whose mind bore in its dawning
Impress of developed races,
To the rude, untutored savage
Seemed divinely 'dowed with reason.
She, the heir of civilization,
They, the slaves of superstition,
Gave to her a silent rev'rence,
Growing better with such giving.
Oft she told them that the Cross-Sign,
Made by Man-te-o before them
When he talked to his own nation,
Was the symbol of a Spirit
Great, and good, and wise, and loving;
He who kept the maize-fields fruitful,
He who filled the sea with fishes,
He who made the sun to warm them
And sent game to feed His children.
If, when in their games or councils,
They grew quarrelsome and angry,
Suddenly among them standing
Was a maiden like the sunrise,
Making with her taper finger
This strange sign which they respected;
And without a word of pleading
Strife and wrath would no more vex them,
While the influence of her presence
Lingered 'round them like enchantment.
Thus the babe of Ro-a-no-ak
Grew to be the joy and teacher
Of a tribe of native heathen
In the land which gave her shelter.
And the tide of her affections
Flowed to those who gave her friendship;
Whom alone she knew as human,
Whom to her became as kindred.
Man-to-ac, the Mighty Father,
When he filled the earth with blessings,
Deep within the heart of Woman
Hid the burning Need-of-Loving;
Which through her should warm the ages
With a flame of mutual feeling,
Throbbing through her sons and daughters
With a force beyond their power.
And this law of human loving,
Changeless through unending changes,
Fills each living heart with yearning
For another heart to love it;
And against this ceaseless craving
Creed, nor clime, nor color standeth;
Heart to heart all nature crieth
That the earth may thrill with gladness.
So the young braves of the nation,
Thrilled with love for fair Wi-no-na,
Made rude ornaments to please her,
Laid the red deer at her wigwam.
Brought her skins of furry rabbits
Soft and white as her own skin was;
Robbed the black bear and the otter
That her bed might soft and warm be.
And the children of the forest
Were uplifted by such loving
Of a higher type of being,
Who yet throbbed with human instincts.
Brave O-kis-ko loved the maiden
With a love which made him noble;
With the love that self-forgetting
Fills the soul with higher impulse.
As the sun with constant fervor,
Heat and light to earth bestowing,
Seeks for no return of blessing,
Feels no loss for all his giving,
So O-kis-ko loved Wi-no-na,
Gave her all his heart's rude homage,
Felt no loss for all his giving,
Loved her for the joy of loving.
Scorned he all fatigue and danger
Which would bring her food or pleasure;
And each day brought proof of fealty,
For his deeds were more than language.
For her sake he tried to fasten
To his rude canoe white pinions
Like the winged ships of the white man,
That with her he might sail boldly
Out towards the rosy sunrise,
Seeking for her lost grandsire[W]
For whose coming her heart saddened.
Though his red companions mocked him,
His endeavor pleased the maiden,
And her eyes beamed kindly on him,
Though no passion stirred her pulses.
For sweet maiden hopes and fancies
Filled her life with happy dreaming
Ere her woman's heart awakened
To O-kis-ko's patient waiting.
Waiting for her eyes to brighten
'Neath the ardor of his glances;
Waiting for her soul to quicken
With the answer to his longing;
Finding sweet content in silence,
Glad each day to see and serve her.
Now old Chi-co, the Magician,
Also loved the fair Wi-no-na,
All his youth to him returning
As he gazed upon her beauty.
In his wigwam pelt of gray wolf,
Antlers of the deer and bison,
Hung to prove his deeds of valor;
And he wooed the gentle maiden
With his cunning tales of prowess.
She would not rebuke his boasting,
Fearful lest her words offend him;
For her nature kind and loving
Could not scorn the vaunting Chi-co.
When he walked among the maidens,
Gay with paint and decked with feathers,
She would look on him with kindness
That the others might not scoff him;
She would smile upon his weakness,
Though she did not wish to wed him.
Chi-co's love was fierce as fire
Which from flame yields only ashes;
Which gives not for joy of giving,
But demands unceasing tribute,
More and more to feed its craving.
He grew eager and impatient,
He would share with none her favor;
All for him her eyes must brighten,
Else his frown would blight her pleasure.
When the young men played or wrestled,
If O-kis-ko came out victor;
Or returning with the hunters
He it was who bore the stag home;
If with eyes abrim with pleasure
Sweet Wi-no-na smiled upon him,
Or with timid maiden shyness
Drooped her eyes beneath his glances,
Then old Chi-co's heart would wither
With the fire of jealous fury,
Till at length in bitter anger
He determined none should win her,
As from him she turned in coldness.
Wrapped in silence grim and sullen,
Much he wandered near the water;
With his soul he took dark counsel,
Seeking for devices cruel
For the torture of his rival
And destruction of the maiden.
Though he rarely used his power,
Chi-co was a great magician.
He knew all the spells of starlight
And the link 'tween moon and water;
Knew the language of lost spirits
And the secret of their power;
Knew the magic words and symbols
Whereby man may conquer nature.
Long he plotted,--much he brooded,
While he gathered from the water
Mussel-pearls all streaked and piedèd,[X]
All with rays like purple halos.
Such pearls are the souls of Naiads
Who have disobeyed the Sea-King,
And in mussel-shells are prisoned
For this taint of human frailty.
When by man released from durance
These souls, grateful for their freedom,
Are his slaves, and ever render
Good or evil at his bidding.
Chi-co steeped each one he gathered
In a bath of mystic brewing;
Told each purple, piedèd pearl-drop
What the evil was he plotted.
Never once his purpose wavered,
Never once his fury lessened;
Nursing vengeance as a guerdon
While the mussel-pearls he polished.
Then a new canoe he fashioned,
Safe, and strong, and deep he made it;[Y]
And then sought to work his magic
On the innocent Wi-no-na;
Asked the maiden to go with him
In his boat across the water.
Where the waves are white with blossoms,
Where the grapes hang ripe in clusters,
Come with me and drink their juices."
And the innocent Wi-no-na
Listened to his artful pleading;
Went with him in search of pleasure,
Glad to show him friendly feeling.
While with idle stroke they floated
To the fragrant lily-blossoms,
He a string of pearls gave to her,
Smooth and polished, pied and purple.
'Round her snowy neck she placed them
With no thought of harm or cunning;
And with simple, maiden speeches
Filled the time as they sped onward.
To each pearl had Chi-co chanted,
Each had bathed in mystic water,
Each held fast the same weird power,
Till the time grew ripe for evil.
On the waves they could not harm her,
There the Sea-King ruled them ever;
But when on the shore she landed
They would work their evil mission.
On the shore of Ro-a-no-ak
Chi-co sent his boat with vigor.
Lithe and happy she sprang shoreward,
When,--from where her foot first lightly
Pressed the sand with human imprint,--
On--away--towards the thicket,
Sprang _a White Doe_, fleet and graceful.
His revenge thus wrought in safety,
Drifting seaward Chi-co chanted:
"Go, White Doe, hide in the forest,
Feed upon the sweet wild-grasses;
No winged arrow e'er shall harm you,
No Red Hunter e'er shall win you;
Roam forever, fleet and fearless,
Living free and yet in fetters."
O fair maiden! born and nurtured
'Neath the shadow of disaster!
Isle of Fate was Ro-a-no-ak,
In the Land-of-Wind-and-Water.
Nevermore to fill with gladness
The sad heart of stricken mother;
Nevermore to hear the wooing
Of the brave and true O-kis-ko.
Gone thy charm of youthful beauty,
Gone thy sway o'er savage natures;
Doomed to flee before the hunter,
Doomed to roam the lonely island,
Doomed to bondage e'en in freedom.
Is the seal of doom eternal?
Hath the mussel-pearl all power?
Cannot _love_ thy fetters loosen?
Man-te-o and all his warriors
Long and far sought for Wi-no-na;
Sought to find the sky-eyed maiden
Sent by Man-to-ac, the Mighty,
To the Cro-a-to-ans to bless them,
And to make them wise and happy.
As a being more than mortal,
As a deity they held her;
And when no more seen among them
Lamentations filled the island.
Through Wo-ko-kon's sandy stretches,
Through the bog-lands of Po-mou-ik,
Even unto Das-a-mon-que-peu,
Hunted they the missing maiden;
If perchance some other nation,
Envious of their peace and plenty,
Had the maiden boldly captured,
For themselves to win her power.
Louder grew their lamentations
When they found no trail to follow;
Wilder grew their threats of vengeance
'Gainst the tribe which held her captive.
While they wailed the Pale-Face Mother,
She who once was brave for love's sake,
Weak from hardships new and wearing,
Utterly bereft of kindred,
Her heart's comfort thus torn from her,
Died beneath her weight of sorrow.
And a pity, soft and human,
Though he knew no name to call it,
Thrilled the Red Man as he laid her
'Neath the forest leaves to slumber.
But the wary, wily Chi-co
Told his secret unto no one,
While he listened to the stories,
Strange and true, told by the hunters
Of a fleet and graceful White Doe
On the banks of Ro-a-no-ak.
And the hunters said, no arrow
Howsoever aimed could reach her;
Said the deer herd round her gathered,
And where e'er she led they followed.
The old women of the nation
Heard the tales about this White Doe.
Children they of superstition,
With their faith firm in enchantment,
Linked the _going_ of the maiden
With the _coming_ of the White Doe.
They believed in magic powers,
They knew Chi-co's hopeless passion,
So they shook their heads and whispered,
Looked mysterious at each other,
"Ho," they whispered to each other,
"Chi-co is a great Magician,
Chi-co should go hunt this White Doe;
He is not too old for loving;
Love keeps step with Youth and Courage;
Old age should not make him tremble.
Timid is a doe, and gentle
Like a maiden,--like Wi-no-na.
Oho! Oho!" and they chuckled,
Casting dark looks at old Chi-co,
"He," said they, "has 'witched our maiden."
When O-kis-ko heard the whispers
Of the garrulous old women,
Glad belief he gave unto them
That the Doe on Ro-a-no-ak
Was in truth the Pale-Face Maiden
Wrung from him by cruel magic.
He was not a gabbling boaster,
He could think and act in silence;
And alone he roamed the island
Seeking this White Doe to capture,
So that he might tame and keep her
Near him to assuage his sorrow.
All in vain,--no hand could touch her.
All in vain,--no hunter won her.
Up the dunes of Ro-a-no-ak
Still she led the herd of wild deer.
Then O-kis-ko sought We-nau-don,
The Magician of Po-mou-ik.[Z]
Gave him store of skins and wampum,
Promised all his greed demanded,
If he would restore the maiden,
Break the spell which held her spirit.
In his heart We-nau-don cherished
Hatred for his rival Chi-co
For some boyhood's cause of anger,
For defeat in public wrestling;
And because of this he welcomed
Now the time to vent his malice.
So he promised from enchantment
To release the captive maiden.
In the days of pristine nature,
In the dells of Ro-a-no-ak,
Bubbling from the earth's dark caverns,
Was a spring of magic water.
There the Naiads held their revels,
There in secret met their lovers;
And they laid a spell upon it
Which should make true lovers happy;
For to them true love was precious.
He who drank of it at midnight
When the Harvest Moon was brightest,
Using as a drinking-vessel
Skull-bowl of his greatest rival
Killed in open, honest combat,
And by summer sunshine whitened,
He gained youth perennial from it
And the heart he wished to love him.
He who bathed within its waters,
Having killed a dove while moaning,
And had killed no other creature
Since three crescent moons had rounded;
Vowing to be kind and helpful
To the sad and weary-hearted:
He received the magic power
To undo all spells of evil
Which divided faithful lovers.
In this spring had bathed We-nau-don,
And he held its secrets sacred;
But a feeling ever moved him
To make glad the heavy-hearted.
So he showed unto O-kis-ko
Where to find the magic water;
With this counter-charm, he told him
How to free the charmed Wi-no-na:
"In a shark's tooth, long and narrow
In a closely wrought triangle,
Set three mussel-pearls of purple,
Smooth and polished with much rubbing.
To an arrow of witch-hazel,
New, and fashioned very slender,
Set the shark's tooth, long and narrow,
With its pearl-inlaid triangle.
From the wing of living heron
Pluck one feather, white and trusty;
With this feather wing the arrow,
That it swerve not as it flyeth.
Fashioned thus with care and caution,
Let no mortal eye gaze on it;
Tell no mortal of your purpose;
Secretly at sunset place it
In the spring of magic water.
Let it rest there through three sunsets,
Then when sunrise gilds the tree-tops
Take it dripping from the water,
At the rising sun straight point it,
While three times these words repeating:
_Mussel-pearl arrow, to her heart go;
Loosen the fetters which bind the White Doe;
Bring the lost maiden back to O-kis-ko._
With this arrow hunt the White Doe,
Have no timid fear of wounding;
When her heart it enters boldly
Chi-co's charm will melt before it."
Every word O-kis-ko heeded,
Hope, once dead, now cheered his spirit.
From the sea three pearls he gathered;
From the thicket brought witch-hazel
For the making of the arrow;
From the heron's wing a feather
Plucked to true its speed in flying.
Patiently he cut and labored,
As for love's sake man will labor;
Shaped the arrow, new and slender,
Set the pearls into the shark's tooth,
Fastened firm the heron's feather,
With a faith which mastered reason.
In the magic spring he steeped it,
Watching lest some eye should see it;
Through three sunsets steeped and watched it;
Three times o'er the charm repeated
While the sunrise touched the tree-tops;
Then prepared to test its power.
In the Land-of-Wind-and-Water
Long the Summer-Glory lingered,
Loath to yield its ripened beauty
To the cold embrace of Winter.
And the greenness of the forest
Gave no sign of coming treason,
Till the White Frost without warning
Hung his banners from the tree-tops.
Then a blush of brilliant color
Decked each shrub with tinted beauty;
Gold, and brown, and scarlet mingled
Till no color seemed triumphant;
And the Summer doomed to exile
Fled before the chilling Autumn.
While the glow of colors deepened,
The proud Weroance Win-gin-a,
Chief of Das-a-mon-gue-pue land,
Made a feast for all his people;
Called them forth with bow and arrow
To a test of skill and valor.
He was weary of the mysteries
Whispered of the famous White Doe,
Whose strange courage feared no hunter,
For no arrow ever reached her.
"Ha!" said he, "a skilful hunter
Is not daunted by a white doe;
Craven hearts make trembling fingers,
Arrows fail when shot by cowards.
_I_ will shoot this doe so fearless,
Her white skin shall be my mantle,[AA]
Her white meat shall serve for feasting,
And my braves shall cease from fearing.
From the fields the maize invites us,
Sturgeons have been fat and plenty.
We are weary of fish-eating,
We will feast on meat of white deer."
Messengers of invitation
Sent he to the other nations,
Saying, "Come and hunt the White Doe,
Bring your surest, fleetest arrows;
We will eat the meat of white deer,
We will drink the purple grape-juice,
Burn the uppowoc in pipe-bowls,
While we shame the trembling hunters."
But the Cro-a-to-ans kept silence,
Sent no answer to his greeting.
They believed the charmèd White Doe
Was Wi-no-na Skâ's pure spirit,
Who in freedom still was happy,
And they would not wound or harm her,
They would shoot no arrows at her,
Nor help feast upon her body.
Then O-kis-ko answered boldly;
"I will go and hunt this White Doe,
I will shoot from my own ambush,
I will take my fleetest arrow."
And the men and women wondered,
For they knew his former loving.
But O-kis-ko kept his secret,
Showed no one his new-made arrow;
'Round his shoulders threw a mantle
Made of skins of many sea-gulls,
So that he could hide his arrow,
And no mortal eye could see it
Till he sent it on its mission
Winged with magic, fraught with mercy.
Thus he went to Ro-a-no-ak,
Love, and hope, and faith impelling,
Conscious of his aim unerring,
Trusting in the arrow's power.
From Po-mou-ik came Wan-ches-e,
For the hunt and feast impatient,
Boasting of his skill and valor,
Saying in his loud vainglory:
"I will teach the braves to shoot deer,
Young men now are not great hunters,
Hearts like squaws they have within them,
Nothing fears them but a papoose."
Wan-ches-e had crossed the water[AB]
In the ships with wings like sea-birds,
Whom he saw in her own country,
Him to please and show her friendship,
Gave an arrow-head of silver
To him as a mark of favor.
This he now brought proudly with him,
As of all his arrows fleetest;
Bearing in its lustrous metal,
As he thought, some gift of power
From the mighty Weroanza
Which would bring success unto him;
And the warriors all would praise him
As around the feast they gathered,
Saying as he walked among them:
"There is none like brave Wan-ches-e,
He can bend the bow with firmness,
He has arrow-points of silver,
And the White Doe falls before him."
And he polished well the arrow
Which he thought would bring him praises.
Where the deer were wont to wander
All the hunters took their stations,
While the stalkers sought the forest,
From its depths to start the deer-herd.
Near the shore Win-gin-a lingered
That he first might shoot his arrow,
And thus have the certain glory
Of the White Doe's death upon him.
By a pine-tree stood Wan-ches-e
With his silver arrow ready;
While O-kis-ko, unseen, waited
Near by in his chosen ambush,
Where he oft had watched the White Doe,
Where he knew she always lingered.
Soon the stalkers with great shouting
Started up the frightened red deer;
On they came through brake and thicket,
In the front the White Doe leading,
With fleet foot and head uplifted,
Daring all the herd to follow.
Easy seemed the task of killing,
So Win-gin-a twanged his bow-string,
But his arrow fell beside her
As she sprang away from danger.
Through the tanglewood, still onward,
Head uplifted, her feet scorning
All the wealth of bright-hued foliage
Which lay scattered in her pathway.
Up the high sand-dunes she bounded,
In her wake the whole herd followed,
While the arrows aimed from ambush
Fell around her ever harmless.
On she sped, towards the water,
Nostrils spread to sniff the sea-breeze;
Through the air a whizzing arrow
Flew, but did not touch the White Doe;
But a stag beside her bounding
Wounded fell among the bushes,
And the herd fled in confusion,
Waiting now not for the leader.
On again, with leaping footsteps,
Tossing head turned to the sea-shore;
For one fatal minute standing
Where the White Man's Fort had once stood;
In her eyes came wistful gleamings
Like a lost hope's fleeting shadow.
While with graceful poise she lingered,
Swift, Wan-ches-e shot his arrow
Aimed with cruel thought to kill her;
While from near and secret ambush,
With unerring aim, O-kis-ko
Forward sent his magic arrow,
Aimed with thought of love and mercy.
To her heart straight went _both_ arrows,
And with leap of pain she bounded
From the earth, and then fell forward,
Prone, amidst the forest splendor.
O-kis-ko, with fond heart swelling,
Wan-ches-e, with pride exultant,
To the Doe both sprang to claim it,
Each surprised to see the other.
Suddenly, within the forest,
Spread a gleaming mist around them,
Like a dense white fog in summer,
So they scarce could grope their pathway.
Slowly, as if warmed by sunbeams,
From one spot the soft mist melted,
While within its bright'ning dimness,
With the misty halo 'round her,
Stood a beautiful white maiden,--
_Stood the gentle, lost Wi-no-na_.
Through her heart two arrows crosswise
Pierced the flesh with cruel wounding;
Downward flowed the crimson blood-tide,
Staining red the snow-white doe-skin
Which with grace her form enveloped,
While her arms with pleading gesture
To O-kis-ko were outstretching.
As they gazed upon the vision,
All their souls with wonder filling;
While the white mist slowly melted,
_Prostrate fell the wounded maiden_.
Then revealed was all the myst'ry,
Then they saw what had befallen.
To her heart the magic arrow
First had pierced, and lo! Wi-no-na
Once more breathed in form of maiden.
But while yet the charm was passing
Came the arrow of Wan-ches-e;
To her heart it pierced unerring,
Pierced the pearl-inlaid triangle,
Struck and broke the shark's tooth narrow,
_Charm and counter-charm undoing_;
Leaving but a mortal maiden
Wounded past the hope of healing.
Woe to love, and hope, and magic!
Woe to hearts whom death divideth!
While upon her bleeding bosom
Fatal arrows made the Cross-Sign,
Wistful eyes she turned to Heaven;
"O forget not your Wi-no-na,"
Whispered she unto O-kis-ko,
As her soul passed to the silence.
Fear seized on the bold Wan-ches-e
When he saw the Pale-Face maiden
Standing where had poised the White Doe,
Where the White Man's Fort had once stood.
He knew naught of magic arrows,
Nor O-kis-ko's secret mission;
He saw only his own arrow
Piercing through her tender bosom,
Never doubting but the wonder
Which his awe-struck eyes had witnessed
Had been wrought by his own arrow,
Silver arrow from a far land,
Fashioned by the skill of Pale-Face,
To a race she willed to conquer.
All his hatred of the Pale-Face,
Fed by fear and superstition,
To him made this sudden vision
Seem an omen of the future,
When the Red Man, like the White Doe,
Should give place unto the Pale-Face,
And the Indian, like the white mist,
Fade from out his native forest.
All his courage seemed to weaken
With the dread of dark disaster;
And with instincts strong for safety
Fled he from the place in terror.
Love hath not the fear of danger,
And O-kis-ko's faith in magic
Kept him brave to meet the changes
Which had each so quickly followed.
For he saw the human maiden
Where had stood the living White Doe;
And he knew his hazel arrow,
Charmed with all We-nau-don's magic,
Had restored the lost Wi-no-na
To reward his patient loving.
But the conflict of _two_ arrows,
Bringing death unto the maiden,
Was a deep and darksome myst'ry
Which his ignorance could not fathom.
All the cause of his undoing
Saw he in the silver arrow;
So with true love's tireless effort,
Quick he strove to break its power.
From her heart he plucked the arrow,
Hastened to the magic water,
Hoping to destroy the evil
Which had stilled the maiden's pulses.
In the sparkling spring he laid it
So no spot was left uncovered,
So the full charm of the water
Might act on the blood-stained arrow.
As the blood-stains from it melted,
Blood of Pale-Face shed by Red Man,
Slowly, while he watched and waited,
_All the sparkling water vanished;_
Dry became the magic fountain,
Leaving bare the silver arrow.
Was it thus the spell would weaken
Which had wrought his love such evil?
Would she be again awakened
When he sought her in the thicket?
Must he shoot this arrow at her
To restore her throbbing pulses?
Must he seek again We-nau-don
To make warm her icy beauty?
While he of himself sought guidance,
Sought to know the hidden meaning
Of the mysteries he witnessed;
Lo! another mystic wonder
Met his eyes as he sat musing.
From the arrow made by Pale-Face,
As th' enchanted water left it,
Sprang a tiny shoot with leaflets
Pushing upward to the sunlight.
Did the arrow dry the fountain
With the blight of death it carried?
Or in going, had the water
Left a charm upon the arrow?
Did the heart-blood of the Pale-Face
From the arrow in the water
Cause the coming of the green shoot,
Which reached upward to the sunlight?
All O-kis-ko's love and courage
Could not give him greater knowledge.
Savage mind could not unravel
All the meaning of this marvel.
Fear forbade him touch the arrow
Lest he should destroy the green shoot;
So he left the tender leaflets
Reaching upward to the sunlight,
Sought again the lifeless maiden
For whose love his soul had hungered;
Knelt beside her in the forest,
With the awe of death upon him,
Which in heathen as in Christian
Moves the human soul to worship.
All his faith in savage magic
Turned to frenzy at his failure;
And the helplessness of mortals
Pressed upon him like a burden;
While a mighty longing seized him
For a knowledge of the Unknown,
For a light to pierce the Silence
Into which none enter living.
And unconsciously his spirit
Rose in quest of Might Supernal,
Which should rule both dead and living,
Leaving naught to chance or magic;
Which should seize the throbbing pulses
Ebbing from a dying mortal,
And create a higher being
Free from thrall of earthly nature;
Almost grasping in his yearning
In whose hand the earth lies helpless,
In whose heart all souls find refuge.
But no light came to O-kis-ko;
Still the burden pressed upon him,
And a pall of hopeless yearning
Wrapped his soul in voiceless sorrow
As he gazed upon the maiden
With death's mysteries enfolded.
Then he made upon her bosom
The strange Cross-Sign she had taught him;
From his shoulders took the mantle
Made of skins of many sea-gulls,
Gently wrapped the maiden in it,
Heaped the tinted leaves about her;
Leaving all his own life's brightness
With her where the shadows darkened.
We can read the mystic omens which O-kis-ko's eyes did greet.
And to us they seem the symbols of what coming ages brought,
Realization gives the answer, which in vain the Savage sought.
For we know the silver arrow, fatal to all sorcery,
Was the gleaming light of Progress speeding from across the sea,
And the tiny shoot with leaflets, by the sunlight warmed to life,
Holding fast the Holy Cross-Sign,--Heirs of Duty and of Light,--
Still they speed the arrow, Progress, on its civilizing flight;
NOTE _d_.--"The Governor (John White) with divers of his company,
"And also we understood by them of Croatoan, how that the fifteen
NOTE _f_.--"The thirteenth of August, our savage, Manteo, by the
commandment of Sir Walter Raleigh, was christened in Roanoak, and
pearls."--_Voyage of Amadas and Barlowe._
NOTE _o_.--"The manner of making their boats in Virginia is very