How they fought and how they were united,
How the Powhatan his mighty rule extended--
All these things the old squaw told the maiden.
Under the mimosa sat Matoax often,
While she listened to the old squaw's wondrous tales,
learned from her to trace the beadwork patterns deftly
On the moccasins or on the women's mantles;
But of all the stories Winganameo told her,
None the maiden loved to hear so oft repeated
As the legend of the lost ones of Croatan,[FN#8]
And the island where the blue-eyed children lived.
Thus it was that Pocahontas heard of English
Long before she looked upon the strange Pale Faces,
Dreamed of them as little lower than the angels,
With the wisdom of the ages blessed.
[FN#8] Refers to the "Lost Colony of Roanoke, 1587,"
(see Hawk's History of North Carolina).
To the wigwam by the brooklet came the Princess
Oft at evening; told to Winganameo softly
How the English called her "Guardian Angel," loved her,
Gave her presents, daily asked her to their homes.
Winganameo nodded sagely as she listened,
But she spoke a word of warning to the Princess:
"Let not Pale Face bring unto you sorrow, Matoax;
As a mother I have watched you coming, going,
Princess born, 'tis many a warrior would wed you,
Better could you find a male among your own;
For the Pale Face is not of us, is a stranger;
Though he love you, he will leave you for his people,
And his home beyond the sea.
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