{"collection":"myth-cosmogony","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_28796/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_28796","id":"gutenberg_28796","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/28796","summary":null,"tags":["Category: American Literature","Category: Historical Novels","Category: Mythology, Legends & Folklore","Dare, Virginia, 1587- -- Poetry","Indians of North America -- Folklore -- Poetry"],"text":"Produced by D. Alexander, Diane Monico, and the Online\nDistributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\nTHE WHITE DOE\n\nTHE FATE OF\nVIRGINIA DARE\n\n_AN INDIAN LEGEND_\n\nBY\n\nSALLIE\nSOUTHALL\nCOTTEN\n\n[Illustration]\n\nPrinted for the Author\nBY J. B. LIPPINCOTT COMPANY, PHILADELPHIA\n\n\n\n\nCopyright, 1901\n\nBY SALLIE SOUTHALL COTTEN\n\n_All rights reserved_\n\n\n\n\n[Illustration:\n\n\"While within its bright'ning dimness,\nWith the misty halo 'round her,\nStood a beautiful white maiden\"\n\nPage 70]\n\n\n\n\nTO\n\nThe National Society\nof\nColonial Dames of America\n\nWHOSE PATRIOTIC WORK HAS STIMULATED\nRESEARCH INTO AN IMPORTANT AND\nINTERESTING PERIOD OF THE HISTORY OF\n\nOUR BELOVED COUNTRY\n\n\n\n\nFORGOTTEN FACTS AND FANCIES\nOF AMERICAN HISTORY\n\n\nAS civilization advances there develops in the heart of man a higher\nappreciation of the past, and the deeds of preceding generations come\nto be viewed with a calm criticism which denudes those deeds of false\nsplendor and increases the lustre of real accomplishment. Man cannot\nsee into the future and acquire the prescience of coming events which\nwould make him infallible, but he can remove the veil from the past,\ncontemplate the mistakes and successes of those who have lived before\nhim, and who struggled with the same problems which now confront him.\nThe results of their efforts are recorded in history, and inspired by\nhigh ideals he can study the past, and by feeding his lamp of wisdom\nwith the oil of their experiences he secures a greater light to guide\nhis own activities. Man remains a slave to Fate until Knowledge makes\nhim free, and while all true knowledge comes from experience, it need\nnot necessarily be _personal_ experience.\n\nIn studying the past, deeds come to be estimated more with reference to\ntheir ultimate results and as factors in universal progress, and less\nas personal efforts; just as more and more the personal merges into the\nuniversal in all lines of endeavor. Viewed in this light of ultimate\nresults an imperishable and increased lustre envelops the name of Sir\nWalter Raleigh as the pioneer and faithful promoter of English\ncolonization in America. The recognition of his services by the people\nwho reap the reward of his labors has ever been too meagre. A portrait\nhere and there, the name of the capital city in a State, a mention\namong other explorers on a tablet in the National Library, the name of\na battleship, and a few pages in history, help to remind us of his\nassociation with this nation. Perhaps a few may recognize his personal\ncolors--red and white--in the binding in this book, and his Coat of\nArms in the heraldic device which ornaments the cover, and which are\nmentioned \"lest we forget\" one we should honor.\n\nThe present and ever increasing greatness of these United States is due\nto the efforts of this remarkable man, who so wondrously combined in\none personality the attributes of statesman, courtier, soldier,\nscientist, poet, explorer, and martyr. Isabella of Spain offered her\njewels to aid Columbus, and the deed has been lauded and celebrated as\nof international value, yet it contained no touch of personal\nsacrifice. She was never deprived of her jewels, and while her generous\noffer proved her faith in the theories and ability of Columbus, it\nbrought to her no suffering. On the other hand, the efforts of Sir\nWalter Raleigh were at his own expense, and entailed financial disaster\non him in the end. That he sought to extend the power of England must\nbe admitted by those who correctly estimate his character; yet no one\nwill deny that he was the most important factor in the colonization of\nAmerica by the English. Spain, France, and England contended long for\nsupremacy in the New World, but France failed to gain any permanent\npower, and Spanish dominance, as illustrated in South America and\nMexico, was followed by slow progress. It was the English race, _led by\nRaleigh_, which has become the leading power and modern strength of\nAmerica. Colony after colony he sent to the new land, and desisted not,\neven after the death of his half-brother and coadjutor, Sir Humphrey\nGilbert. Disaster could not daunt so brave a spirit, and with\nunsurpassed enterprise and perseverance he continued to send\nexpeditions year after year to what is now the coast of North Carolina,\nbut which was then called Virginia, and recognized as Raleigh's\npossessions. Much money was required, and when his own fortune was\nexhausted he transferred to what is known as the London Company his\nrights to the land, and _by his advice_ they avoided his mistakes and\nmade the next settlement at Jamestown instead of Roanoak Island.\n\nThese facts have been temporarily obscured by the moss of neglect, but\nthey cannot be destroyed. They will ever remain the foundation-stones\nof the great structure known and respected among nations as the United\nStates of America, and were laid by Sir Walter Raleigh at Roanoak\nIsland, on the coast of North Carolina, which was then called Virginia.\nThe intervening years have brought great results, those early struggles\nhave ripened into success and greatness beyond Raleigh's most sanguine\ndreams. A new race has arisen, yet bearing the characteristics of the\nrace from which it sprung. Our English ancestors, our heritage of\nEnglish law and custom, of religion and home life, of language and\nideals, all tempered by the development of new characteristics, bind us\n_through him_ to England.\n\nSir Walter Raleigh was not an ordinary man. He was one of the most\nremarkable of a coterie of remarkable men whom a remarkable queen\n(Elizabeth) gathered around her, and to whom she owed much of the\ngrandeur of her remarkable reign. Elizabeth's greatest gift was a\ncapacity for discerning and using great minds, and she had the good\nfortune to find many around her at that period of time. Raleigh won her\nfavor, and received from her many benefits, among which was the honor\nof knighthood with its emoluments, which she conferred. In the end her\nfavor cost him dear, because his heart had the courage to be true to\nitself in love. Elizabeth never forgave him for loving, marrying, and\nbeing true until death to her maid of honor, the beautiful Elizabeth\nThrockmorton. That vain and jealous queen permitted no rivals, and she\nwished to reign over the heart of this man, who, handsome, brave,\ngallant, intelligent, and romantic, made an ideal courtier. His life at\ncourt was brilliant but brief. Love anchored a soul attuned to loftier\ndeeds, and after his marriage his career as a courtier was eclipsed by\nhis later exploits as a statesman, warrior, explorer, and author. He\nplanned and participated in many expeditions which brought benefit to\nhis queen and added to his own fortune, yet none of his expeditions\nhave borne such an ever-increasing harvest of results as those he sent\nto America. He began that work in 1584, and continued to send\nexpeditions in 1585-1586-1587, until the invasion of England by the\nSpanish Armada forced him to other activities, and even then he sent\ntwo expeditions to the relief of the colonists, which, because of the\nexigencies of war, failed to reach America. In fact, the attitude of\nSpain towards England at that time was the greatest obstacle which\nmilitated against the success of his colonies. His ships and his valor\nwere necessary to suppress and check the insolence and ambition of\nSpain, who designed to conquer England and become mistress of the\nworld. By his valor, loyalty, and wisdom Raleigh was largely\ninstrumental in bringing about the failure of those plans and in\ndefeating the Spanish fleet, which had been boastingly named The\nInvincible Armada. Again his zeal and cool daring won for England the\ngreat victory of Cadiz, which has always ranked as the most remarkable\nachievement in the annals of naval warfare. With only seven ships he\ndashed in and destroyed a large Spanish fleet (fifty-five ships) in its\nown harbor with a dexterity and valor not surpassed even by Dewey at\nManila nor by Schley at Santiago.\n\nSpain was always his foe because she feared him, and it seems like the\nNemesis of fate that three hundred years later the death-blow of Spain\nas a world power was dealt in Manila Bay by the nation which Raleigh\nstrove so hard to plant, himself all unconscious of what the years were\nto bring. On that famous morning when Dewey startled the world and\nchastised Spain for her insolence and cruelty, the ship which fired the\nfirst shot in a battle destined to change the rating of two nations,\nthe ship which first replied to the fire of the Spanish forts, as if\nanswering the challenge of an old-time foe,--that ship was the\n_Raleigh_, named in honor of that great man by the nation he had\nfostered, and in that battle Raleigh's foe was humbled, Raleigh's fame\nperpetuated, and Raleigh's death avenged.\n\nAfter the death of Elizabeth the star of Raleigh set. He whose most\nvaliant work had been the defense of England against the attacks of\nSpain was falsely charged with treasonable negotiations with Spain, and\nafter a farce of a trial was thrown into prison, where he remained more\nthan twelve years. The only mitigations of the horrors of prison life\nwere the presence of his devoted wife and his books. He had always been\na student, and he spent the weary hours of his long confinement in\nthat companionship which is known only to those who really love books,\nand to such minds they prove a panacea for sorrow and injustice. During\nthat imprisonment he wrote his famous \"History of the World,\" marking\nthe eventful epoch by writing a history of the Old World at the same\ntime that he was opening the gates of the future by planting English\ncolonies in the New World. As soon as he was released from prison his\nmind returned to schemes of exploration. He made a voyage to South\nAmerica, where new disasters befell him, and where his oldest son was\nkilled. Shattered by grief and misfortune he returned to England, where\nhis enemies had planned his certain downfall. Again he was sent to\nprison, but not for a long time, for soon his princely head paid the\npenalty which true greatness has too often paid to the power of a weak\nking. As a subject he was loyal and valiant, as a husband faithful and\ndevoted, as a father affectionate and inspiring, as a scholar\ndistinguished in prose and poetry, as a soldier he won fame and\nfortune, as a statesman he contributed to the renown of his sovereign's\nrealm, and as a man he lived and died guided by the highest ideals.\nThis was the man who spent a fortune trying to establish English\ncolonies in North America, and who sent repeated expeditions to the\nisland of Roanoak, situated where the waters of the Albemarle and\nPamlico Sounds meet, on the coast of North Carolina, but which was then\ncalled Virginia.\n\nThe island wears a cluster of historic jewels which should endear it to\nall patriotic Anglo-Americans. To them it should be the most sacred,\nthe best loved spot in all the United States. There the first English\nsettlements were made which led to English supremacy in the New World.\nThere the first home altar was reared and the first child of English\nparents in the United States was born and baptized. There the blood of\nEnglishmen first dyed the sod of North America, and there the first\nattempts at English agriculture were made. There was enacted the\ntragedy of American colonization, the disappearance of Raleigh's Lost\nColony, and there the sacrament of baptism was first administered in\nthe United States. Roanoak Island is a beautiful place, with fertile\nsoil and wild luxuriance of vine-covered forests which are enveloped in\na deep solitude which has become dignity. Restless waters ebb and flow\nby its side, restless winds kiss its bare sand dunes, a genial sun\nbrings to maturity its wealth of tree and vine and shrub. Protected\nfrom the storms which ravage the ocean beyond, it sleeps in quiet\nbeauty, content with its heritage of fame as _the first home of the\nEnglish race in America_.\n\nIts isolated position, its wild beauty, its tragic associations, its\ndignified repose, all seem to have set it aside from the rush of modern\nprogress that it might become a shrine for the homage of a patriotic\npeople.\n\nThe wonderful fertility of the soil of this island seemed a marvel to\nthe early explorers, all of whom have testified to it. Ralph Lane,\ngovernor of the colony of 1585, in writing to Raleigh of the island and\nthe surrounding country, declared it to be \"the goodliest soil under\nthe cope of heaven,\" and that \"being inhabited with English no realm in\nChristendom were comparable to it;\" every word of which is true now,\nprovided that the English who inhabit it follow the suggestions of\nnature and adopt horticulture as the developing means. The surrounding\ncountry as well as Roanoak Island has a wealth of climbing vines and\nclustering grapes which point instinctively to grape culture. Amadas\nand Barlowe (1584) wrote that they found the land \"so full of grapes as\nthe very beating and surge of the sea overflowed them, of which we\nfound such plenty, as well there as in all places else, both on the\nsand and on the green soil, on the hills as on the plains, as well as\non every little shrub as also climbing towards the top of high cedars,\nthat I think in all the world the like abundance is not to be found.\"\n\n[Illustration: A Scuppernong Vineyard, Roanoak Island]\n\nSurely no other such natural vineyard was ever found outside the fabled\nGarden of the Gods!\n\nEven in this generation an old resident of the Banks, an ante-bellum\npilot on these waters, has testified that his grandfather could\nremember the time \"when if a vessel were stranded on any of the beaches\nthe crew could crawl to land on the grapevines hanging over where now\nthere is only a dry sand beach.\" Throughout the eastern part of that\nState (North Carolina) the grape riots in natural luxuriance and is\nluscious and fragrant. Many varieties remain wild, while others have\nbeen improved by cultivation. The three finest native American grapes,\nthe Catawba, the Isabella, and the Scuppernong, are all indigenous to\nthe soil of North Carolina. The Catawba, native to the banks of the\nriver Catawba, from which it takes its name, is still found wild in\nNorth Carolina, while it has become celebrated at the North as a\ntable-grape, and in Ohio as a wine-grape. In its adopted home it has\nrevolutionized land values because of the money value of the product.\nThe Isabella grape, so generally cultivated for table use, is thought\nto be a hybrid between the Burgundy and the native fox-grape of the\nCarolinas. The tradition runs that the Burgundy was brought to South\nCarolina by the Huguenots, and that cuttings from this hybrid were\nbrought to North Carolina and successfully propagated. Mrs. Isabella\nGibbs, for whom this well-known grape was named, carried a vine from\nNorth Carolina to Long Island, where it attracted attention because of\nits hardiness.\n\nTo the people of the South Atlantic coast the Scuppernong is by far the\nmost important of the native grapes, for while it refuses to flourish\naway from its native home, yet its great possibilities as a wine-grape\nare beginning to be appreciated. All the early explorers gave it\nspecial mention. Hariot in his famous Narrative wrote, \"There are two\nkinds of grapes that the soil does yield naturally, the one is small\nand sour, of the ordinary bigness of ours in England; the other far\ngreater and of _himself luscious sweet_. When they are planted and\nhusbanded as they ought, a principal commodity of wines by them may be\nraised.\" (Hakluyt, 1586.) Lawson in his history (1714) describes\nseveral varieties, and dwells on the abundant supply of grapes and the\ngreat tangles of green vines. He wrote of a native _white_ grape, which\nmany in that day thought existed only in his imagination; but it was\na reality and was the now well-known Scuppernong, whose fame history\nand tradition both perpetuate, and whose real worth, greater than its\nlegendary fame, is now being recognized and appreciated. There are\nseveral varieties of the Scuppernong, all luscious and yielding rich\njuices, and when ripe they fill the air with a fragrance unknown to any\nother grape.\n\n[Illustration: Old \"Mother\" Scuppernong Vine.]\n\nThe first Scuppernong vine known to history was found on the mainland\nof the North Carolina coast by Amadas and Barlowe on their first voyage\n(1584). Tradition relates that they transplanted this vine to Roanoak\nIsland. On this island there still flourishes an old vine, which\ndespite its gnarled body and evident age continues to bear fruit. It is\nclaimed that it is the same vine Amadas and Barlowe planted. Some\ninsist that it was planted by Sir Walter Raleigh himself, but as that\nfamous knight did not realize his wish to visit his new possessions in\nNorth America, the honor of having planted the vine must revert to\nAmadas and Barlowe. It seems to be endowed with perennial youth, and\nthe harvest from its branches is an annual certainty.\n\nWhat the early explorers testified as to the abundant supply of grapes\non the Carolina coast, and the propitious conditions existing for the\npropagation of the vine, is equally true to-day. The manifest destiny\nof North Carolina as the rival of Southern France in the production of\nwines seems to be inevitable. The marvel is how it has been so long\ndelayed after Hariot's special mention of such possibilities. Hariot\nwas a close observer with a practical mind, and the presence of an\nindigenous supply of material to sustain an important industry\nsuggested to him that the people coming to this grape-laden land might\nestablish such an industry to their advantage. The delay of the\ndevelopment of grape-culture in its native home can only be explained\non the theory that when nature boldly invites, man becomes shy. This\nindifference to grape-culture is peculiar to America, for in Europe all\nthe aristocracy who are land-owners, where the climate makes it\npossible, are cultivators of the grape, take great pride in their\nwines, boast of their rare and fine vintages, and hold the making of\nwine as one of the fine arts.\n\nThe original Scuppernong has white skin, white pulp, white juice, and\nmakes a white wine. Other varieties have dark purple skins and yield a\nreddish juice which makes a red wine. The dark varieties are said to be\n_seedlings_ from the original white variety, and tradition explains the\nmetamorphosis in this way.\n\n[Illustration: Among the Scuppernongs.--A Modern Vineyard.]\n\nIn the magic spring made famous in the legend of The White Doe, after\nthe blood of Virginia Dare had melted from the silver arrow into the\nwater of the spring, then the water disappeared. As the legend says:\n\n    \"Dry became the magic fountain,\n    Leaving bare the silver arrow.\"\n\nThen while O-kis-ko looked on in wonderment he saw\n\n            \"a tiny shoot with leaflets\n    Pushing upward to the sunlight.\"\n\nTradition says that this \"tiny shoot with leaflets\" was a young\nseedling of the Scuppernong which had sprouted in the edge of the\nwater, and it was not seen by O-kis-ko until all the water had\ndisappeared. Then he saw it and immediately associated its appearance\nwith the magic arrow, and so left it \"reaching upward to the sunlight.\"\nAfter many days he returned to the spot-drawn by an irresistible\nlonging, and covered the fatal arrow, which had brought him so much\nwoe, with earth and leaves to hide it from his sight. The earth and\nleaves furnished the necessary nourishment to the tiny vine, which\nreached out with strength and vigor, and finding friendly bushes upon\nwhich to climb, it soon made a sheltering bower above the spot where\nhad bubbled the magic spring. This tiny green bower became the favorite\nretreat of O-kis-ko, where he would linger to cherish thoughts of his\nlost love, Virginia Dare, and marvel on the wonders of her death. Then\nit came to pass that when fruit came upon this vine, lo! it was purple\nin hue instead of white like the other grapes, and yielded a _red_\njuice. Full of superstition, and still credulous of marvels, O-kis-ko\nimagined the change to be due to the magic arrow buried at its root. He\ngathered the grapes and pressed the juice from them, and lo! it was\n_red_--it was the semblance of blood, _Virginia Dare's blood_, absorbed\nfrom the water (in which it had melted from the arrow) by the vine, and\nyet potent for good. Surely it held some unseen power, for it combined\nin some mystic way through the mysterious earth at his feet all the\npower of the magic spring, the power of the silver arrow, and the power\nof human blood consecrated through human love. He reverently drank the\njuice of this new vine, believing that it would in some way link him\nwith the spirit of her he had loved and lost. Year after year he drank\nthis juice and fed his soul on thoughts of love, making unconsciously a\nsacrament, and finding happiness in the thought that the blood of the\nmaiden would feed his spirit and lead him to her at last. To become\ngood like her and to go to her became his highest hope. Aspiration had\nbeen born in his soul, and quickened by love it could not die, but led\nhim blindly to strive to reach her, and such striving is never in vain.\n\n[Illustration: A \"Virginia Dare\" Vineyard.]\n\nAnother fact that should be enshrined in the hearts and perpetuated in\nthe memorials of the nation, is that on Roanoak Island the first\nChristian baptism in the United States was administered. By order of\nSir Walter Raleigh, Manteo, the friendly Indian chief, was baptized\nsoon after the arrival of the colony under Governor White, and the\nfollowing Sunday Virginia Dare, the granddaughter of Governor White,\nwas baptized, both events being officially reported to Raleigh. In this\nday of religious freedom any enforced adoption of religious forms\nshocks our pious instincts. Yet baptism has always been considered\n_necessary_ to salvation, and in the past the zeal of Christians for\nthe salvation of their fellow-men often assumed the form of mild force.\nWe read where the Spaniards, always religious fanatics, administered\nthe Holy Sacrament to thousands in Central America and Mexico _at the\npoint of the sword_; their zeal misleading them to force upon those\nless enlightened than themselves the hope of that heaven which they\nbelieved to be accessible only through certain Christian rites. So to\norder the baptism of an Indian chief seems a simple, kindly thing, and\nmost probably Manteo desired it done. The only other Indian who\nreceived baptism in those early settlements was Pocahontas, in 1614.\nShe was a captive at the time and held as a hostage to induce Powhatan\nto comply with certain demands of the colonists at Jamestown.\n\nDespite the fact that Virginia Dare was baptized twenty-seven years\nearlier than Pocahontas, yet it is the Indian Princess who is figured\nin the painting on the walls of the dome of the Capitol at Washington\nas receiving the first baptism in the colonies. Buried in the annals of\nthat time lies the fact that twenty-seven years before any colonist\neven came to Jamestown, Virginia Dare was born and baptized, as the\nsequence of Christian birth and as the child of Christian parents.\nVirginia Dare was not a myth. She was a living, breathing reality, a\nhuman creature of good English descent, the granddaughter of the\ngovernor of the colonies, the daughter of the assistant governor, and a\nsharer in the mysterious fate of Raleigh's Lost Colony. The historical\nfacts of her life and the legend of her fate and death are contained in\nthe pages of \"The White Doe.\"\n\nHer baptism would not have been mentioned in the records if it had not\nbeen official and proper. In a new land, surrounded by dangers and\ndifficulties, with strange environment to divert the mind to other\nchannels, it would have been easy and natural for her baptism to have\nbeen delayed if not altogether neglected amid the stress of events. Her\nprompt baptism and the official report of the event to Sir Walter\nRaleigh is convincing testimony to the presence of a chaplain at\nRoanoak.\n\n\nTHE FIRST BAPTISM IN THE WILDS OF AMERICA!\n\nHow naturally the scene rises before us. The young mother, her heart\nthrilling with the mysteries of love and life, and elated with the joy\nof motherhood, alert to the dangers of the new land, and suspicious of\nthe strange people among whom her blue-eyed treasure must live, yet\nyielding cheerfully to the busy smiling English women who had crossed\nthe ocean with her, and now with womanly intuition ministered to her\nneeds. We can picture them making tidy the confused household, and\nstilling the cries of the infant as they prepare her to receive the\nsign of the cross. We can almost picture them deliberating over a\nchoice from among their limited supply of vessels of one worthy to\nbecome the receptacle of the water to be used. It was on the\nSabbath-Day, and the dedication to God of the wee creature who had so\nnewly come among them was a fitting observance of the day. The solemn\nwords of the ritual of the English Church, never before spoken in that\nprimeval forest, must have awakened mysterious vibrations which linger\nyet and give to Roanoak Island that atmosphere of perpetual repose\nwhich envelops it. There must have come to those who witnessed the\nscene that holy Sabbath-Day, just as it comes now to those who view it\nfrom afar, a deep realization that the God of the English and the Great\nSpirit of the Indian are one and the same, then, now, and evermore. The\nOne God to whom in baptism Virginia Dare was brought and in whose name\nManteo the savage was signed with the cross and given the promise of\nsalvation, and who remains the God of the millions of English-speaking\npeople who now worship in the land which was then and there dedicated\nto the service of Christ.\n\nThe mist of oblivion fades before the light of Truth, and Virginia Dare\nwill be a shining jewel in the Chaplet of Memories which some day\nChristian America will place upon the tomb of the Past.\n\n\n\n\nPREFACE\n\n\nA familiar knowledge of the history of one's own country increases\npatriotism and stimulates valor. For this reason the study of written\nrecords called history should be supplemented by research into myths,\nfolk-lore, and legends. While the value of history lies ever in its\ntruth, it must yet bear the ideals of the people who participated in\nthe events narrated. Tradition was the mother of all history, and was\nnecessarily robed in the superstitions of the era of which the\ntradition tells. History writers, jealously guarding the truth, have\nstriven to banish all traditions which seemed colored by fancy or even\nfreighted with a moral lesson. These exiled traditions, bearing the\nseed-germs of truth, cannot die, but, like wandering spirits, float\ndown the centuries enveloped in the mists of superstition, until\nfinally, embodied in romance or song, they assume a permanent form\ncalled legend and become the heritage of a people. Legends are the\nsatellites of history because they have their origin in the same\nevents, and the history of all countries is interspersed with them.\n\nThe legend of The White Doe is probably the oldest and possibly the\nleast known of all the legends which relate to the history of the\nUnited States. It is a genuine American legend, and the facts from\nwhich it had its origin form the first chapter in the history of\nEnglish colonization in North America. Those facts are found in the\nrepeated attempts of Sir Walter Raleigh to establish an English colony\nin the New World. The Spaniards were in Florida, the French were in\nNova Scotia, but England had gained no possessions in North America\nwhen Raleigh began his efforts. This fact assumes more importance when\nwe remember that civilization has made the greatest progress in those\nparts of America where the English became dominant. In South America,\ndominated by the Spaniards, civilization has made no strides, while in\nthe United States a new nation has arisen whose ultimate destiny none\nmay limit or foretell. As the gates of a new century open and disclose\nalmost unlimited fields for human progress, this new nation, with an\nenthusiasm and courage born of success, has taken her place to lead in\nthe eternal forward search for better opportunities and higher life\nfor the human race. All this grand destiny, all this ripening\nopportunity, like a harvest from a few seeds, is traced back, event\nafter event, to the early struggles of those who braved the dangers of\nsea and forest in the attempts to colonize America. Those pioneer\nefforts, so generously promoted by Sir Walter Raleigh, though only\npartially successful, were the stepping-stones which later led to the\nbetter-known settlement of Jamestown, in Virginia. A brief _r\u00e9sum\u00e9_ of\nthose stepping-stones will make them familiar to all.\n\nIn 1584 Queen Elizabeth made a grant to Raleigh for all the land from\nNova Scotia to Florida, which was called Virginia, in honor of the\nVirgin Queen, as Elizabeth was called.\n\nThe first expedition sent out under this grant was in the same year,\n1584, and was entirely at the expense of Sir Walter Raleigh, as were\nall of the expeditions up to 1590. It was solely for the purpose of\nexploration, and was under the command of Amadas and Barlowe, who,\nafter coasting along the Atlantic shores, entered Pamlico Sound and\nlanded on the island of Roanoak, on the coast of the present State of\nNorth Carolina. They made the acquaintance of the tribes there\nresident, explored the country on the coast, and returned to England to\nbear enthusiastic testimony to the delightsomeness of the country. They\ntook with them back to England two native Indian chiefs, Manteo and\nWanchese, who returned to America on a subsequent voyage, as the\nofficial records tell.\n\nThe following year, 1585, a colony of one hundred and seven men landed\non this same island of Roanoak. They came organized to occupy and\npossess the land granted to Raleigh, and to secure such benefits\ntherefrom as in those days were deemed valuable. They remained one\nyear, exploring the country and trying to establish relations with the\nIndians. They built houses, planted crops, and looked forward to the\narrival of more men and food, which had been promised from England. But\nno ships came, provisions grew scarce, and before the crops they had\nplanted were mature enough to harvest, Sir Francis Drake, the great\nsea-rover of that day, appeared off the island with a fleet of vessels.\n\nKnowing the dangers of that coast, he did not attempt to come to the\nisland, but sent in to learn of the welfare of the colony, and offered\nto supply their immediate needs. They asked, among other things, that\ntheir sick and weak men be taken back to England, that food for those\nwho remained be given them, and for a vessel in which they might return\nhome if they so desired, all of which Drake granted. But a dreadful\nstorm arose, which lasted three days and drove the promised vessel out\nto sea, with a goodly number of the colonists and the promised food on\nboard. Seeing thus a part of their number and their food gone, the\nremaining colonists became homesick and panic-stricken and begged Drake\nto take them _all_ to England, which he did. Thus ended the first\nattempt at English colonization in North America.\n\nFifteen days after their departure Sir Richard Grenville arrived with\nthree vessels, bringing the promised supplies, but found the men gone.\nWishing to hold the country for England until another colony could\narrive, he left fifteen men on the island with provisions for two\nyears, and he returned to England. Those fifteen men are supposed to\nhave been murdered and captured by the Indians, as the next colony\nfound only some bones, a ruined fort, and empty houses in which deer\nwere feeding.\n\nThe leaving of those fifteen men is considered the second attempt at\ncolonization, and is recognized as a failure. But all success is built\nonly by persistent repetition of effort, and so, in 1587, another\ncolony came from England to this same island of Roanoak. Among those\ncolonists were seventeen women and nine children, thus proving the\nintention of making permanent homes, and the hope of establishing\nfamily ties which should for all time unite England and North America.\nA few days after the arrival of this colony at Roanoak, Virginia Dare\nwas born,--she being the first child born of English parents on the\nsoil of North America,--and because she was the first child born in\nVirginia she was called Virginia. Her mother, Eleanor Dare, was the\ndaughter of John White, the governor of the colony, and the wife of one\nof the assistant governors.\n\nThe Sunday following her birth she was baptized, this being another\nfact of official record.\n\nBy Sir Walter Raleigh's command the rite of baptism had been\nadministered, a few days earlier, to Manteo, an Indian chief, who had\nvisited England with a returning expedition, as previously mentioned.\nThis baptism of the adult Indian and of the white infant were the first\nChristian sacraments administered in North America, and are worthy of\ncommemoration.\n\nThe colonists soon found that to make possible and permanent their home\nin a new land many things were needed more than they had provided. So\nat their urgent request their leader, Governor White, grandfather of\nVirginia Dare, consented to return to England to secure the needed\nsupplies, with which he was to return to them the following year. When\nWhite reached England he found war going on with Spain, and England\nthreatened with an invasion by the famous Spanish Armada. His queen\nneeded and demanded his services, and not until 1590--three years\nlater--did he succeed in returning to America. When at last he came the\ncolonists had disappeared, and the only clue to their fate was the word\n\"Croatoan,\" which he found carved on a tree; it having been agreed\nbetween them that if they changed their place of abode in his absence\nthey would carve on a tree the name of the place to which they had\ngone.\n\nThe arrival of those colonists, the birth and baptism of Virginia Dare,\nthe return of White to England, the disappearance of the colony, and\nthe finding of the word Croatoan, these facts form the record of that\ncolony, the disappearance of which is a mystery which history has not\nsolved.\n\nBut tradition illumines many periods of the past which history leaves\nin darkness, and tradition tells how this colony found among friendly\nIndians a refuge from the dangers of Roanoak Island, and how this\ninfant grew into fair maidenhood, and was changed by the sorcery of a\nrejected lover into _a white doe_, which roamed the lonely island and\nbore a charmed life, and how finally true love triumphed over magic and\nrestored her to human form,--only to result in the death of the maiden\nfrom a silver arrow shot by a cruel chieftain.\n\nThis tradition of a white doe and a silver arrow has survived through\nthree centuries, and not only lingers where the events occurred, but\nsome portions of it are found wherever in our land forests abound and\ndeer abide. From Maine to Florida lumbermen are everywhere familiar\nwith an old superstition that to see a white doe is an evil omen. In\nsome localities lumbermen will quit work if a white deer is seen. That\nsuch a creature as a white deer really exists is demonstrated by their\ncapture and exhibition in menageries, and to-day the rude hunters of\nthe Alleghany Mountains believe that only a silver arrow will kill a\nwhite deer.\n\nThe disappearance of this colony has been truly called \"the tragedy of\nAmerican colonization,\" and around it has hung a pathetic interest\nwhich ever leads to renewed investigation, in the hope of solving the\nmystery. From recent search into the subject by students of history a\nchain of evidence has been woven from which it has come to be believed\nthat the lost colony, hopeless of succor from England, and deprived of\nall other human associations, became a part of a tribe of friendly\nCroatoan Indians, shared their wanderings, and intermarried with them,\nand that their descendants are to be found to-day among the Croatoan\nIndians of Robeson County, North Carolina.\n\n(Those who desire to investigate this supposed solution of the mystery\ncan easily secure the facts and the conclusions formed by those who\nhave made a careful study of the subject.)\n\nOf course, it can never be known _certainly_ whether Virginia Dare was\nor was not of that number, but the full tradition of her life among the\nIndians is embodied in the legend of The White Doe.\n\nMuch has been written about the Indian princess Pocahontas, and much\nsentiment has clustered around her association with the Jamestown\ncolony, while few have given thought to the young English girl whose\nbirth, baptism, and mysterious disappearance link her forever with the\nearlier tragedies of the same era of history. It seems a strange\ncoincidence that the Indian maiden Pocahontas, friend and companion of\nthe _White_ Man, having adopted _his_ people as her own, should sleep\nin death on English soil, while the English maiden, Virginia Dare,\nfriend and companion of the _Red_ Man, having adopted his people as\n_her_ own, should sleep in death on American soil,--the two maidens\nthus exchanging nationality, and linking in life and in death the two\ncountries whose destinies seem most naturally to intermingle.\n\nThe scattered fragments of this legend have been carefully collected\nand woven into symmetry for preservation. Notes from authentic sources\nhave been appended for the benefit of searchers into the historical\nbasis of the poem, which is offered to the public with the hope that it\nmay increase interest in the early history of our home land and\nstrengthen the tie which binds England and the United States.\n\n                                          SALLIE SOUTHALL COTTEN.\n\n\n\n\nCONTENTS\n\n\n                                                            PAGE\n\nFORGOTTEN FACTS AND FANCIES OF AMERICAN HISTORY                i\n\nPREFACE                                                        5\n\nPROLOGUE                                                      19\n\nTHE SEEDS OF TRUTH                                            23\n\n\nTHE LEGEND OF THE WHITE DOE\n\n  I.--THE REFUGEES                                            31\n\n II.--THE PALE-FACE MAIDEN                                    42\n\nIII.--SAVAGE SORCERY                                          46\n\n IV.--THE COUNTER-CHARM                                       55\n\n  V.--THE HUNT                                                63\n\n VI.--THE SILVER ARROW                                        72\n\nAPPENDIX                                                      81\n\n\n\n\nILLUSTRATIONS\n\n\n_1 \"While within its bright'ning dimness,\n    With the misty halo 'round her,\n    Stood a beautiful white maiden\"_                 FRONTISPIECE\n\n_2 A Scuppernong Vineyard, Roanoak Island_                    _x_\n\n_3 Old \"Mother\" Scuppernong Vine_                           _xii_\n\n_4 Among the Scuppernongs.--A Modern Vineyard_              _xiv_\n\n_5 A \"Virginia Dare\" Vineyard_                              _xvi_\n\n_6 The Arrival of the Englishmen in Virginia_                _23_\n\n_7 \"The Fierce, Brawny Red Man is King of the Wold\"_         _24_\n\n_8 The Land-of-Wind-and-Water_                               _32_\n\n_9 Man-te-o, a Chiefe Lorde of Roanoak_                      _34_\n\n_10 \"Then a New Canoe he fashioned\"_                         _52_\n\n_11 The Magician of Po-mou-ik_                               _58_\n\nFrontispiece from an original drawing by May Louise\nBarrett.\n\nMaps and remaining illustrations reproduced from\nTheodore de Bry's edition of \"The True Pictures and\nFashions of the People in that Parte of America now\ncalled Virginia,\" 1590.\n\n\n\n\nPROLOGUE\n\n\nIn the tomb of vanished ages sleep th' ungarnered truths of Time,\nWhere the pall of silence covers deeds of honor and of crime;\nDeeds of sacrifice and danger, which the careless earth forgets,\nThere, in ever-deep'ning shadows, lie embalmed in mute regrets.\nWould-be-gleaners of the Present vainly grope amid this gloom;\nFlowers of Truth to be immortal must be gathered while they bloom,\nElse they pass into the Silence, man's neglect their only blight,\nAnd the Gleaner of the Ages stores them far from human sight.\nYet a perfume, sweet and subtle, lingers where each flower grew,\nRising from the shattered petals, bathed and freshened by the dew;\nAnd this perfume, in the twilight, forms a mist beneath the skies,\nOut of which, like airy phantoms, legends and traditions rise;\nFor the Seeds of Truth are buried in a legend's inmost heart,\nTo transplant them in the sunlight justifies the poet's art.\n\n[Illustration: The arrival of the Englishmen in Virginia]\n\n\n\n\nTHE SEEDS OF TRUTH\n\nROANOAK, 1587\n\n\nShimmering waters, aweary of tossing,\nHopeful of rest, ripple on to the shore;\nDimpling with light, as they waver and quiver,\nEchoing faintly the ocean's wild roar.\nLocked in the arms of the tremulous waters\nNestles an island, with beauty abloom,\nWhere the warm kiss of an amorous summer\nFills all the air with a languid perfume.\nWindward, the roar of the turbulent breakers\nWarns of the dangers of rock and of reef;\nBurdened with mem'ries of sorrowful shipwreck,\nThey break on the sands in torrents of grief.\nLeeward, the forest, grown giant in greenness,\nShelters a land where a fervid sun shines;\nWild with the beauty of riotous nature,\nThick with the tangles of fruit-laden vines.[A]\nFrom fragrant clusters, grown purple with ripeness,\nRare, spicy odors float out to the sea,[B]\nWhere the gray gulls flit with restless endeavor,\nSkimming the waves in their frolicsome glee.\n\nOut from the shore stalks the stately white heron,\nSeeking his food from the deep without fear,\nGracefully waving wide wings as he rises\nWhen the canoe of the Indian draws near.\nThrough reedy brake and the tangled sea-grasses\nWander the stag and the timid-eyed doe[C]\nDown to the water's edge, watchful and wary\nFor arrows that fly from the red hunter's bow.\nFearless Red Hunter! his birthright the forest,\nLithe as the antelope, joyous and free.\nTrusting his bow for his food and his freedom,\nWresting a tribute from forest and sea,\nNo chilling forecast of doom in the future\nDaunts his brave spirit, by freedom made bold.\nFar o'er the wildwood he roams at his pleasure,\nThe fierce, brawny Red Man is king of the wold.\n\n[Illustration: \"The fierce, brawny Red Man is king of the wold\"]\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nLo! in the offing the white sails are gleaming,\nShips from afar to the land drawing nigh;\nLaden with men, strong and brave to meet danger,\nStalwart of form, fair of skin, blue of eye.\nBoldly they land where the white man is alien;\nWomen are with them, with hearts true and brave;\nSadly they stand where their countrymen perished,[D]\nSeeking a home where _they_ found but a grave.\n\nFriendly red hunters greet them with kindness,\nTell the sad tale how their countrymen died,[E]\nBeg for a token of friendship and safety,[F]\nPromise in love and in peace to abide.\nManteo's heart glows with friendly remembrance,\nHe greets them as brothers and offers good cheer;\nNo thrill of welcome is felt by Wanchese,[G]\nHis heart is bitter with malice and fear.\nEnvying men his superiors in wisdom,\nFearing a race his superiors in skill;\nSullen and silent he watches the strangers,\nWhom from the first he determines to kill.\n\nThen the sign of the Cross, on the brow of the Indian,[H]\nSeals to the savage the promise of life;\nSweet symbol of sacrifice, emblem of duty,\nStandard of Peace, though borne amidst strife:\nDraped with the sombre, stained banner of Conquest,\nDark with the guilt of man's murder and greed,\nYet bright with God's message of love and forgiveness\nUnto a universe welded to creed.\n\nGently the morning breeze tosses the tree-tops,\nLow ebbs the tide on the outlying sand;\nWhen a tiny white babe opens eyes to the sunlight,[I]\nHeaven's sweet pledge for the weal of the land.\nBabe of the Wilderness! tenderly cherished!\nSigned with the Cross on the next Sabbath Day;\nBrave English Mother! through danger and sorrow,\nFor a nation of Christians thou leadest the way.\n\nBack to the home-land, across the deep water,\nGoes the wise leader, their needs to abate;[J]\nLeaving with sorrow the babe and its mother\nIn a strange land as a hostage to Fate.\nMany long months pass in busy home-making,\nSweet English customs prevail on the isle;\nAnxious eyes watch for the ship in the offing,\nSaddened hearts droop, but the lips bravely smile.\n\nGone are the sweet dreamy days of the summer,\nIn from the ocean the winter winds shriek;\nDangers encompass and enemies threaten,\nMother and child other refuge must seek.\nMother and child, as in Bethlehem story,\nFlee from the hate of their blood-thirsty foes;\nHopeless of help from their own land and people,\nThey seek friendly tribes to find rest from their woes.\n\nTo the fair borders of Croatoan Island,\nOver the night-covered waters they flee;\nSeeking for safety with Manteo's people,\nLeaving the word \"Croatoan\" on a tree.[K]\nName of the refuge in which they sought shelter,\nOnly the name of a tribe, nothing more;[L]\nSign whereby those who would seek them might follow\nTo their new home on the Croatoan's shore.\n\nWhy did they leave the rude fort they had builded?\nWhy did they seek far away a new home?\nO innocent babe! Roanoak's lost nestling!\nHow shall we learn where thy footsteps did roam?\n'Mid the rude tribes of the primeval forest,\nBearing the signet of Christ on thy brow,\nWert thou the teacher and guide of the savage?\nWho, of thy mission, can aught tell us now?\nThrough the dim ages comes only the perfume,\nLeft where the flowers of Truth fell to earth;\nWith ne'er a gleaner to treasure the blossoms,\nSave the sweet petals of baptism and birth.\nVainly we seek on Time's shore for thy footprints,\nHid in a mist of pathos is thy fate;\nYet of a life under savage enchantment\nQuaint Indian legends do strangely relate.\n\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[Footnote A: See Appendix, Note _a_.]\n\n[Footnote B: See Appendix, Note _b_.]\n\n[Footnote C: See Appendix, Note _c_.]\n\n[Footnote D: See Appendix, Note _d_.]\n\n[Footnote E: See Appendix, Note _e_.]\n\n[Footnote F: See Appendix, Note _e_.]\n\n[Footnote G: Pronounced Wan-chess-e.]\n\n[Footnote H: See Appendix, Note _f_.]\n\n[Footnote I: See Appendix, Note _g_.]\n\n[Footnote J: See Appendix, Note _h_.]\n\n[Footnote K: See Appendix, Note _k_.]\n\n[Footnote L: See Appendix, Note _k_.]\n\n\n\n\nTHE LEGEND OF THE WHITE DOE\n\n\n\n\nI\n\nTHE REFUGEES\n\n\nIn the Land-of-Wind-and-Water,\nLoud the sea bemoaned its sameness;\nDashing shoreward with impatience\nTo explore the landward mysteries.\nOn the sand the waves spread boldly,\nVainly striving to reach higher;\nThen abashed by vain ambition,\nGlided to their ordained duty.\nThere the pine-tree, tall and stately,\nWhispered low the ocean's murmur;\nStrove to soothe the restless waters\nWith its lullaby of sighing.\nThere the tall and dank sea-grasses,\nFrom the storm-tide gathered secrets\nOf the caverns filled with treasures,\nMilky pearls and tinted coral,\nStores of amber and of jacinth,\nIn the caves festooned with sea-weed,\nWhere the Sea-King held his revels\nAnd the Naiads danced in beauty.\nIn this Land-of-Wind-and-Water,\nDowered with the sunshine's splendor,\nJuicy grapes grew in profusion,\nDraping all the trees with greenness,\nAnd the maize grew hard and yellow,\nWith the sunshine in its kernels.\nThrough the forest roamed the black bear,\nAnd the red deer boldly herded;\nThrough the air flew birds of flavor,\nAnd the sea was full of fishes,\nTill the Red Man knew no hunger,\nAnd his wigwam hung with trophies.\n\n[Illustration: The Land-of-Wind-and-Water]\n\nThere brave Man-te-o, the Faithful,\nRuled the Cro-a-to-ans with firmness,\nDwelt in peace beside the waters,\nSmoked his pipe beneath the pine-tree,\nGazed with pride upon his bear-skins\nWhich hung ready for the winter.\nTold his people all the marvels\nOf the Land-of-the-Pale-Faces;\nOf the ships with wings like sea-birds\nWherein he had crossed the water;[M]\nOf the Pale-Face Weroanza[N]\nWhom he saw in her own country;\nOf her robes of silken texture,\nOf her wisdom and her power;\nTold them of her warlike people\nAnd their ships which breathed the lightning.\nHow he pledged with them a friendship,\nHoping they would come to teach him\nHow to make his people mighty,\nHow to make them strong in battle\nSo the other tribes would fear them.\nAnd the dream of future greatness\nFilled the Cro-a-to-ans with courage;\nAnd their hearts grew warm and friendly\nTo the race of white-faced strangers.\n\nWhen bold white men came among them,\nTo the isle of Ro-a-no-ak,\nMan-te-o, the friendly Weroance,\nFaithful proved to all his pledges.\nSmoked with them the pipe of friendship,\nTook their God to be his Father;\nTook upon his swarthy forehead\nTheir strange emblem of salvation,[O]\nEmblem of the One Great Spirit,\nFather of all tribes and nations.\nMan-te-o, the friend and brother,\nBade them fear the false Wan-ches-e,\nAnd the Weroance Win-gin-a,\nWhose hearts burned with bitter hatred\nFor the men they feared in combat,\nFor the strangers who defied them.\n\n[Illustration: Man-te-o, a chiefe lorde of Roanoak]\n\nWhen the Pale-Face, weak and hungry,\nFeeble from continued labor,\nShivered in the blasts of winter\nWhich blew cold across the water,\nThen Wan-ches-e planned their ruin,\nWith Win-gin-a sought to slay them.\n\nTo the isle of Ro-a-no-ak,\nWhere the Pale-Face slept unguarded,\nSped the swift canoes of Red Men,\nGliding through the silent shadows.\nAs the sky grew red with dawning,[P]\nWhile they dreamed of home and kindred,\nSuddenly with whoop of murder\nWily Indians swarmed around them.\n\nSkill of Pale-Face, craft of Red Man,\nMet in fierce, determined battle;\nWhile within the Fort called Ralegh\nMany arrows fell, like raindrops.\nArrows tipped with serpent's poison,\nArrows tipped with blazing rosin,\nWinged with savage thirst for murder,\nAimed with cruel skill to torture.\nThreatened by the blazing roof-tree\nThen the Pale-Face crouched in terror;\nSaw the folly of resistance,\nFeared his doom, and fled for safety.\n\nMan-te-o, alert for danger,\nFrom afar saw signs of conflict;\nSaw the waves of smoke ascending\nHeavenward, like prayers for rescue.\nSwift, with boats and trusty warriors,\nCrossed he then to Ro-a-no-ak;\nStrong to help his Pale-Face brothers,\nFaithful to his friendly pledges.\n\nAs the daylight slowly faded,\nHopeless of the bloody struggle,\nStealthily the Pale-Face warriors\nFled with Man-te-o's brave people.\nLeft they then the Fort called Ralegh,\nLeft the dead within its stockade;\nSought another island refuge,\nHoping there to rest in safety.\n\nMan-te-o sought for the mother,[Q]\nShe with babe there born and nurtured\n'Neath the shadow of disaster,\nIn the Land-of-Wind-and-Water.\n\"Come,\" said he, \"the darkness falleth,\nAll your people must flee henceward;\nWan-ches-e will show no mercy,\nYou must not become his captive.\nTake the papoose from thy bosom,\nCall the white chief whom thou lovest,\nHaste with me upon the flood-tide\nTo my wigwam on Wo-ko-kon.\"\n\nNoiseless, she amid the conflict\nSought her heart's mate to flee with her;\nUseless all the strife and courage,\nUseless all the rude home-making;\nShrine for worship, fort for safety,\nHope of future peace and plenty,\nAll were vain; yet life we cherish,\nFar above all boons we hold it:\nSo she hastened on her mission\nFor the life of self and loved ones.\n\nAs they neared the island border,\nPale-Face husband, child, and mother,\nMan-te-o in silence leading,\nEvery sense alive to danger,\nSuddenly the Pale-Face father\nThought him of the parting caution\nGiven by their absent leader:\nIf they fled in search of safety\nOn a tree to leave a token,\nWhereby he might surely find them,\nIn the land which gave them shelter,\nWhen he came again to seek them.[R]\n\nBy his side a sturdy live-oak\nSpread its green, protecting branches;\nQuick he strove to carve the token\nWhich should speak to all who followed.\nC. R. O., in bold, plain letters[S]\nCut he in the tree's firm body,\nWhen a random, poisoned arrow\nPierced his heart, and he fell lifeless.\n\nWith a smothered cry of horror,\nIn an agony of sorrow,\nShe would fain have lingered near him,\nBut that Man-te-o urged onward.\nIf discovered, flight was futile,\nWeakness now meant worse disaster;\nShe must save her helpless baby\nThough her heart be rent with anguish.\n\nFrantic with love's desolation,\nStrong with thoughts of home and father,\nWith a woman's wondrous calmness\nWhen great peril calls for action,\nSafe she placed the sleeping infant\n'Cross the brawny arms of Man-te-o,\nWhile with knife drawn from his girdle\nCarved she on another live-oak\nPlain, the one word \"CROATOAN\"[T]\nAs a sign to all her people.\nTrusting all to savage friendship,\nCutting hope with every letter,\nPraying God to guide her father\nTo the haven she was seeking.\n\nTrust is woman's strongest bulwark,\nAll true manhood yields unto it.\nAs her sad eyes turned upon him\nMan-te-o was moved with pity\nFor the brave and tender woman,\nFriendless in the land without him.\n\nOn the brow of Pale-Face baby\nFirst he made the Holy Cross-Sign;\nThen upon the sad-eyed mother\nTraced the sign her people taught him;\nThen again the sacred symbol\nOutlined on his own dark forehead;\nAnd with open hand uplifted\nSealed his promise of protection;\nLinking thus his pledge of safety\nWith her faith in Unseen Power.\n\nMute with grief, she trusted in him;\nIn his boat they crossed the water,\nWhile the night fell like a mantle\nSpread in mercy to help save them.\n\nWhen in Cro-a-to-an they landed,\nThere they found the few survivors\nOf that day of doom to many,\nGlad once more to greet each other.\nMan-te-o within his wigwam\nFrom the cold wind gave them shelter,\nShared with them his furry bear-skins,\nMade them warm, and warmth gave courage\nTo meet life's relentless duties.\n\nThen he summoned all the people,\nCalled the old men and the young men,\nBade the squaws to come and listen,\nShowed the papoose to the women.\nThey gazed on its tender whiteness,\nStroked the mother's flaxen tresses;\n\"'Tis a snow-papoose\" they whispered,\n\"It will melt when comes the summer.\"\n\nMan-te-o said to the warriors:\n\"Ye all know these Pale-Face people\nWhom Wan-ches-e sought to murder,\nThey have often made us welcome.\nBrave their hearts, but few are living,\nIf left friendless these will perish;\nWe have store of corn and venison,\nThey are hungry, let us feed them;\nThey have lightning for their arrows,\nLet them teach us how to shoot it.\nThey with us shall search the forest,\nAnd our game shall be abundant;\nLet them teach us their strange wisdom\nAnd become with us one people.\"\n\nAnd the old men, grave in counsel,\nAnd the young men, mute with deference,\nWhile the uppowoc[U] was burning,\nPondered on his words thus spoken,\nAnd to Man-te-o gave answer:\n\"All your words are full of wisdom;\nWe will share with them our venison,\nThey shall be as our own people.\"\n\nFrom the isle of Ro-a-no-ak\nThus the Pale-Face fled for succor,\nThus in Cro-a-to-an's fair borders\nFound a home with friendly Red Men.\nNevermore to see white faces,\nNevermore to see their home-land,\nYet to all the future ages\nSending proof of honest daring;\nForging thus a link of effort\nIn the chain of human progress.\n\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[Footnote M: See Appendix, Note _l_.]\n\n[Footnote N: Queen Elizabeth.]\n\n[Footnote O: See Appendix, Note _f_.]\n\n[Footnote P: See Appendix, Note _m_.]\n\n[Footnote Q: Eleanor Dare.]\n\n[Footnote R: See Appendix, Note _k_.]\n\n[Footnote S: See Appendix, Note _k_.]\n\n[Footnote T: See Appendix, Note _k_.]\n\n[Footnote U: Tobacco.]\n\n\n\n\nII\n\nTHE PALE-FACE MAIDEN\n\n\nNature feels no throb of pity,\nMakes no pause for human heartbreak;\nThough with agony we quiver,\nShe gives forth no sign of feeling.\nWaxed and waned the moon, in season,\nEbbed and flowed the tides obedient;\nSummers filled the land with plenty,\nWinters chilled the summers' ardor.\nNo winged ships gleamed in the offing;\nNo Pale-Faces sought their kindred;\nIn the Land-of-Wind-and-Water\nRoamed the Red Man unmolested.\n\nWhile the babe of Ro-a-no-ak\nGrew in strength and wondrous beauty;\nLike a flower of the wildwood,\nBloomed beside the Indian maidens.\nAnd Wi-no-na Sk\u00e2[V] they called her,\nShe of all the maidens fairest.\nIn the tangles of her tresses\nSunbeams lingered, pale and yellow;\nIn her eyes the limpid blueness\nOf the noonday sky was mirrored.\nAnd the squaws of darksome features\nSmiled upon her fair young beauty;\nFelt their woman hearts within them\nWarming to the Pale-Face maiden.\nAnd the braves, who scorned all weakness,\nListened to her artless prattle,\nWhile their savage natures softened,\nOf the change themselves unconscious.\n\nLike the light of summer morning\nBeaming on a world in slumber\nWas the face of young Wi-no-na\nTo the Cro-a-to-ans who loved her.\nShe, whose mind bore in its dawning\nImpress of developed races,\nTo the rude, untutored savage\nSeemed divinely 'dowed with reason.\nShe, the heir of civilization,\nThey, the slaves of superstition,\nGave to her a silent rev'rence,\nGrowing better with such giving.\nOft she told them that the Cross-Sign,\nMade by Man-te-o before them\nWhen he talked to his own nation,\nWas the symbol of a Spirit\nGreat, and good, and wise, and loving;\nHe who kept the maize-fields fruitful,\nHe who filled the sea with fishes,\nHe who made the sun to warm them\nAnd sent game to feed His children.\n\nIf, when in their games or councils,\nThey grew quarrelsome and angry,\nSuddenly among them standing\nWas a maiden like the sunrise,\nMaking with her taper finger\nThis strange sign which they respected;\nAnd without a word of pleading\nStrife and wrath would no more vex them,\nWhile the influence of her presence\nLingered 'round them like enchantment.\n\nThus the babe of Ro-a-no-ak\nGrew to be the joy and teacher\nOf a tribe of native heathen\nIn the land which gave her shelter.\nAnd the tide of her affections\nFlowed to those who gave her friendship;\nWhom alone she knew as human,\nWhom to her became as kindred.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[Footnote V: Literally, \"first-born white daughter.\"]\n\n\n\n\nIII\n\nSAVAGE SORCERY\n\n\nMan-to-ac, the Mighty Father,\nWhen he filled the earth with blessings,\nDeep within the heart of Woman\nHid the burning Need-of-Loving;\nWhich through her should warm the ages\nWith a flame of mutual feeling,\nThrobbing through her sons and daughters\nWith a force beyond their power.\nAnd this law of human loving,\nChangeless through unending changes,\nFills each living heart with yearning\nFor another heart to love it;\nAnd against this ceaseless craving\nCreed, nor clime, nor color standeth;\nHeart to heart all nature crieth\nThat the earth may thrill with gladness.\n\nSo the young braves of the nation,\nThrilled with love for fair Wi-no-na,\nMade rude ornaments to please her,\nLaid the red deer at her wigwam.\nBrought her skins of furry rabbits\nSoft and white as her own skin was;\nRobbed the black bear and the otter\nThat her bed might soft and warm be.\nAnd the children of the forest\nWere uplifted by such loving\nOf a higher type of being,\nWho yet throbbed with human instincts.\n\nBrave O-kis-ko loved the maiden\nWith a love which made him noble;\nWith the love that self-forgetting\nFills the soul with higher impulse.\nAs the sun with constant fervor,\nHeat and light to earth bestowing,\nSeeks for no return of blessing,\nFeels no loss for all his giving,\nSo O-kis-ko loved Wi-no-na,\nGave her all his heart's rude homage,\nFelt no loss for all his giving,\nLoved her for the joy of loving.\nScorned he all fatigue and danger\nWhich would bring her food or pleasure;\nAnd each day brought proof of fealty,\nFor his deeds were more than language.\n\nFor her sake he tried to fasten\nTo his rude canoe white pinions\nLike the winged ships of the white man,\nThat with her he might sail boldly\nOut towards the rosy sunrise,\nSeeking for her lost grandsire[W]\nFor whose coming her heart saddened.\nThough his red companions mocked him,\nHis endeavor pleased the maiden,\nAnd her eyes beamed kindly on him,\nThough no passion stirred her pulses.\nFor sweet maiden hopes and fancies\nFilled her life with happy dreaming\nEre her woman's heart awakened\nTo O-kis-ko's patient waiting.\nWaiting for her eyes to brighten\n'Neath the ardor of his glances;\nWaiting for her soul to quicken\nWith the answer to his longing;\nFinding sweet content in silence,\nGlad each day to see and serve her.\n\nNow old Chi-co, the Magician,\nAlso loved the fair Wi-no-na,\nAll his youth to him returning\nAs he gazed upon her beauty.\nIn his wigwam pelt of gray wolf,\nAntlers of the deer and bison,\nHung to prove his deeds of valor;\nAnd he wooed the gentle maiden\nWith his cunning tales of prowess.\n\nShe would not rebuke his boasting,\nFearful lest her words offend him;\nFor her nature kind and loving\nCould not scorn the vaunting Chi-co.\n\nWhen he walked among the maidens,\nGay with paint and decked with feathers,\nShe would look on him with kindness\nThat the others might not scoff him;\nShe would smile upon his weakness,\nThough she did not wish to wed him.\n\nChi-co's love was fierce as fire\nWhich from flame yields only ashes;\nWhich gives not for joy of giving,\nBut demands unceasing tribute,\nMore and more to feed its craving.\nHe grew eager and impatient,\nHe would share with none her favor;\nAll for him her eyes must brighten,\nElse his frown would blight her pleasure.\n\nWhen the young men played or wrestled,\nIf O-kis-ko came out victor;\nOr returning with the hunters\nHe it was who bore the stag home;\nIf with eyes abrim with pleasure\nSweet Wi-no-na smiled upon him,\nOr with timid maiden shyness\nDrooped her eyes beneath his glances,\nThen old Chi-co's heart would wither\nWith the fire of jealous fury,\nTill at length in bitter anger\nHe determined none should win her,\nAs from him she turned in coldness.\n\nWrapped in silence grim and sullen,\nMuch he wandered near the water;\nWith his soul he took dark counsel,\nSeeking for devices cruel\nFor the torture of his rival\nAnd destruction of the maiden.\n\nThough he rarely used his power,\nChi-co was a great magician.\nHe knew all the spells of starlight\nAnd the link 'tween moon and water;\nKnew the language of lost spirits\nAnd the secret of their power;\nKnew the magic words and symbols\nWhereby man may conquer nature.\n\nLong he plotted,--much he brooded,\nWhile he gathered from the water\nMussel-pearls all streaked and pied\u00e8d,[X]\nAll with rays like purple halos.\n\nSuch pearls are the souls of Naiads\nWho have disobeyed the Sea-King,\nAnd in mussel-shells are prisoned\nFor this taint of human frailty.\nWhen by man released from durance\nThese souls, grateful for their freedom,\nAre his slaves, and ever render\nGood or evil at his bidding.\n\nChi-co steeped each one he gathered\nIn a bath of mystic brewing;\nTold each purple, pied\u00e8d pearl-drop\nWhat the evil was he plotted.\nNever once his purpose wavered,\nNever once his fury lessened;\nNursing vengeance as a guerdon\nWhile the mussel-pearls he polished.\n\nThen a new canoe he fashioned,\nSafe, and strong, and deep he made it;[Y]\nAnd then sought to work his magic\nOn the innocent Wi-no-na;\nAsked the maiden to go with him\nIn his boat across the water.\n\"Come,\" said he, \"to Ro-a-no-ak,\nWhere the waves are white with blossoms,\nWhere the grapes hang ripe in clusters,\nCome with me and drink their juices.\"\n\n[Illustration: \"Then a new canoe he fashioned\"]\n\nAnd the innocent Wi-no-na\nListened to his artful pleading;\nWent with him in search of pleasure,\nGlad to show him friendly feeling.\n\nWhile with idle stroke they floated\nTo the fragrant lily-blossoms,\nHe a string of pearls gave to her,\nSmooth and polished, pied and purple.\n'Round her snowy neck she placed them\nWith no thought of harm or cunning;\nAnd with simple, maiden speeches\nFilled the time as they sped onward.\n\nTo each pearl had Chi-co chanted,\nEach had bathed in mystic water,\nEach held fast the same weird power,\nTill the time grew ripe for evil.\nOn the waves they could not harm her,\nThere the Sea-King ruled them ever;\nBut when on the shore she landed\nThey would work their evil mission.\n\nOn the shore of Ro-a-no-ak\nChi-co sent his boat with vigor.\nLithe and happy she sprang shoreward,\nWhen,--from where her foot first lightly\nPressed the sand with human imprint,--\nOn--away--towards the thicket,\nSprang _a White Doe_, fleet and graceful.\n\nHis revenge thus wrought in safety,\nDrifting seaward Chi-co chanted:\n\"Go, White Doe, hide in the forest,\nFeed upon the sweet wild-grasses;\nNo winged arrow e'er shall harm you,\nNo Red Hunter e'er shall win you;\nRoam forever, fleet and fearless,\nLiving free and yet in fetters.\"\n\nO fair maiden! born and nurtured\n'Neath the shadow of disaster!\nIsle of Fate was Ro-a-no-ak,\nIn the Land-of-Wind-and-Water.\nNevermore to fill with gladness\nThe sad heart of stricken mother;\nNevermore to hear the wooing\nOf the brave and true O-kis-ko.\nGone thy charm of youthful beauty,\nGone thy sway o'er savage natures;\nDoomed to flee before the hunter,\nDoomed to roam the lonely island,\nDoomed to bondage e'en in freedom.\nIs the seal of doom eternal?\nHath the mussel-pearl all power?\nCannot _love_ thy fetters loosen?\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[Footnote W: Governor White, of the lost colony.]\n\n[Footnote X: See Appendix, Note _n_.]\n\n[Footnote Y: See Appendix, Note _o_.]\n\n\n\n\nIV\n\nTHE COUNTER-CHARM\n\n\nMan-te-o and all his warriors\nLong and far sought for Wi-no-na;\nSought to find the sky-eyed maiden\nSent by Man-to-ac, the Mighty,\nTo the Cro-a-to-ans to bless them,\nAnd to make them wise and happy.\nAs a being more than mortal,\nAs a deity they held her;\nAnd when no more seen among them\nLamentations filled the island.\nThrough Wo-ko-kon's sandy stretches,\nThrough the bog-lands of Po-mou-ik,\nEven unto Das-a-mon-que-peu,\nHunted they the missing maiden;\nIf perchance some other nation,\nEnvious of their peace and plenty,\nHad the maiden boldly captured,\nFor themselves to win her power.\nLouder grew their lamentations\nWhen they found no trail to follow;\nWilder grew their threats of vengeance\n'Gainst the tribe which held her captive.\n\nWhile they wailed the Pale-Face Mother,\nShe who once was brave for love's sake,\nWeak from hardships new and wearing,\nUtterly bereft of kindred,\nHer heart's comfort thus torn from her,\nDied beneath her weight of sorrow.\nAnd a pity, soft and human,\nThough he knew no name to call it,\nThrilled the Red Man as he laid her\n'Neath the forest leaves to slumber.\n\nBut the wary, wily Chi-co\nTold his secret unto no one,\nWhile he listened to the stories,\nStrange and true, told by the hunters\nOf a fleet and graceful White Doe\nOn the banks of Ro-a-no-ak.\nAnd the hunters said, no arrow\nHowsoever aimed could reach her;\nSaid the deer herd round her gathered,\nAnd where e'er she led they followed.\n\nThe old women of the nation\nHeard the tales about this White Doe.\nChildren they of superstition,\nWith their faith firm in enchantment,\nLinked the _going_ of the maiden\nWith the _coming_ of the White Doe.\nThey believed in magic powers,\nThey knew Chi-co's hopeless passion,\nSo they shook their heads and whispered,\nLooked mysterious at each other,\n\"Ho,\" they whispered to each other,\n\"Chi-co is a great Magician,\nChi-co should go hunt this White Doe;\nHe is not too old for loving;\nLove keeps step with Youth and Courage;\nOld age should not make him tremble.\nTimid is a doe, and gentle\nLike a maiden,--like Wi-no-na.\nOho! Oho!\" and they chuckled,\nCasting dark looks at old Chi-co,\n\"He,\" said they, \"has 'witched our maiden.\"\n\nWhen O-kis-ko heard the whispers\nOf the garrulous old women,\nGlad belief he gave unto them\nThat the Doe on Ro-a-no-ak\nWas in truth the Pale-Face Maiden\nWrung from him by cruel magic.\nHe was not a gabbling boaster,\nHe could think and act in silence;\nAnd alone he roamed the island\nSeeking this White Doe to capture,\nSo that he might tame and keep her\nNear him to assuage his sorrow.\n\nAll in vain,--no hand could touch her.\nAll in vain,--no hunter won her.\nUp the dunes of Ro-a-no-ak\nStill she led the herd of wild deer.\n\nThen O-kis-ko sought We-nau-don,\nThe Magician of Po-mou-ik.[Z]\nGave him store of skins and wampum,\nPromised all his greed demanded,\nIf he would restore the maiden,\nBreak the spell which held her spirit.\n\n[Illustration: The magician of Po-mou-ik]\n\nIn his heart We-nau-don cherished\nHatred for his rival Chi-co\nFor some boyhood's cause of anger,\nFor defeat in public wrestling;\nAnd because of this he welcomed\nNow the time to vent his malice.\nSo he promised from enchantment\nTo release the captive maiden.\n\nIn the days of pristine nature,\nIn the dells of Ro-a-no-ak,\nBubbling from the earth's dark caverns,\nWas a spring of magic water.\nThere the Naiads held their revels,\nThere in secret met their lovers;\nAnd they laid a spell upon it\nWhich should make true lovers happy;\nFor to them true love was precious.\n\nHe who drank of it at midnight\nWhen the Harvest Moon was brightest,\nUsing as a drinking-vessel\nSkull-bowl of his greatest rival\nKilled in open, honest combat,\nAnd by summer sunshine whitened,\nHe gained youth perennial from it\nAnd the heart he wished to love him.\n\nHe who bathed within its waters,\nHaving killed a dove while moaning,\nAnd had killed no other creature\nSince three crescent moons had rounded;\nVowing to be kind and helpful\nTo the sad and weary-hearted:\nHe received the magic power\nTo undo all spells of evil\nWhich divided faithful lovers.\n\nIn this spring had bathed We-nau-don,\nAnd he held its secrets sacred;\nBut a feeling ever moved him\nTo make glad the heavy-hearted.\nSo he showed unto O-kis-ko\nWhere to find the magic water;\nWith this counter-charm, he told him\nHow to free the charmed Wi-no-na:\n\n\"In a shark's tooth, long and narrow\nIn a closely wrought triangle,\nSet three mussel-pearls of purple,\nSmooth and polished with much rubbing.\nTo an arrow of witch-hazel,\nNew, and fashioned very slender,\nSet the shark's tooth, long and narrow,\nWith its pearl-inlaid triangle.\nFrom the wing of living heron\nPluck one feather, white and trusty;\nWith this feather wing the arrow,\nThat it swerve not as it flyeth.\nFashioned thus with care and caution,\nLet no mortal eye gaze on it;\nTell no mortal of your purpose;\nSecretly at sunset place it\nIn the spring of magic water.\nLet it rest there through three sunsets,\nThen when sunrise gilds the tree-tops\nTake it dripping from the water,\nAt the rising sun straight point it,\nWhile three times these words repeating:\n_Mussel-pearl arrow, to her heart go;\nLoosen the fetters which bind the White Doe;\nBring the lost maiden back to O-kis-ko._\nWith this arrow hunt the White Doe,\nHave no timid fear of wounding;\nWhen her heart it enters boldly\nChi-co's charm will melt before it.\"\n\nEvery word O-kis-ko heeded,\nHope, once dead, now cheered his spirit.\nFrom the sea three pearls he gathered;\nFrom the thicket brought witch-hazel\nFor the making of the arrow;\nFrom the heron's wing a feather\nPlucked to true its speed in flying.\nPatiently he cut and labored,\nAs for love's sake man will labor;\nShaped the arrow, new and slender,\nSet the pearls into the shark's tooth,\nFastened firm the heron's feather,\nWith a faith which mastered reason.\nIn the magic spring he steeped it,\nWatching lest some eye should see it;\nThrough three sunsets steeped and watched it;\nThree times o'er the charm repeated\nWhile the sunrise touched the tree-tops;\nThen prepared to test its power.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[Footnote Z: See Appendix, Note _s_.]\n\n\n\n\nV\n\nTHE HUNT\n\n\nIn the Land-of-Wind-and-Water\nLong the Summer-Glory lingered,\nLoath to yield its ripened beauty\nTo the cold embrace of Winter.\nAnd the greenness of the forest\nGave no sign of coming treason,\nTill the White Frost without warning\nHung his banners from the tree-tops.\nThen a blush of brilliant color\nDecked each shrub with tinted beauty;\nGold, and brown, and scarlet mingled\nTill no color seemed triumphant;\nAnd the Summer doomed to exile\nFled before the chilling Autumn.\n\nWhile the glow of colors deepened,\nThe proud Weroance Win-gin-a,\nChief of Das-a-mon-gue-pue land,\nMade a feast for all his people;\nCalled them forth with bow and arrow\nTo a test of skill and valor.\nHe was weary of the mysteries\nWhispered of the famous White Doe,\nWhose strange courage feared no hunter,\nFor no arrow ever reached her.\n\"Ha!\" said he, \"a skilful hunter\nIs not daunted by a white doe;\nCraven hearts make trembling fingers,\nArrows fail when shot by cowards.\n_I_ will shoot this doe so fearless,\nHer white skin shall be my mantle,[AA]\nHer white meat shall serve for feasting,\nAnd my braves shall cease from fearing.\nFrom the fields the maize invites us,\nSturgeons have been fat and plenty.\nWe are weary of fish-eating,\nWe will feast on meat of white deer.\"\n\nMessengers of invitation\nSent he to the other nations,\nSaying, \"Come and hunt the White Doe,\nBring your surest, fleetest arrows;\nWe will eat the meat of white deer,\nWe will drink the purple grape-juice,\nBurn the uppowoc in pipe-bowls,\nWhile we shame the trembling hunters.\"\n\nBut the Cro-a-to-ans kept silence,\nSent no answer to his greeting.\nThey believed the charm\u00e8d White Doe\nWas Wi-no-na Sk\u00e2's pure spirit,\nWho in freedom still was happy,\nAnd they would not wound or harm her,\nThey would shoot no arrows at her,\nNor help feast upon her body.\n\nThen O-kis-ko answered boldly;\n\"I will go and hunt this White Doe,\nI will shoot from my own ambush,\nI will take my fleetest arrow.\"\nAnd the men and women wondered,\nFor they knew his former loving.\n\nBut O-kis-ko kept his secret,\nShowed no one his new-made arrow;\n'Round his shoulders threw a mantle\nMade of skins of many sea-gulls,\nSo that he could hide his arrow,\nAnd no mortal eye could see it\nTill he sent it on its mission\nWinged with magic, fraught with mercy.\n\nThus he went to Ro-a-no-ak,\nLove, and hope, and faith impelling,\nConscious of his aim unerring,\nTrusting in the arrow's power.\n\nFrom Po-mou-ik came Wan-ches-e,\nFor the hunt and feast impatient,\nBoasting of his skill and valor,\nSaying in his loud vainglory:\n\"I will teach the braves to shoot deer,\nYoung men now are not great hunters,\nHearts like squaws they have within them,\nNothing fears them but a papoose.\"\n\nWan-ches-e had crossed the water[AB]\nIn the ships with wings like sea-birds,\nAnd the Pale-Face Weroanza,\nWhom he saw in her own country,\nHim to please and show her friendship,\nGave an arrow-head of silver\nTo him as a mark of favor.\n\nThis he now brought proudly with him,\nAs of all his arrows fleetest;\nBearing in its lustrous metal,\nAs he thought, some gift of power\nFrom the mighty Weroanza\nWhich would bring success unto him;\nAnd the warriors all would praise him\nAs around the feast they gathered,\nSaying as he walked among them:\n\"There is none like brave Wan-ches-e,\nHe can bend the bow with firmness,\nHe has arrow-points of silver,\nAnd the White Doe falls before him.\"\nAnd he polished well the arrow\nWhich he thought would bring him praises.\n\nWhere the deer were wont to wander\nAll the hunters took their stations,\nWhile the stalkers sought the forest,\nFrom its depths to start the deer-herd.\n\nNear the shore Win-gin-a lingered\nThat he first might shoot his arrow,\nAnd thus have the certain glory\nOf the White Doe's death upon him.\n\nBy a pine-tree stood Wan-ches-e\nWith his silver arrow ready;\nWhile O-kis-ko, unseen, waited\nNear by in his chosen ambush,\nWhere he oft had watched the White Doe,\nWhere he knew she always lingered.\n\nSoon the stalkers with great shouting\nStarted up the frightened red deer;\nOn they came through brake and thicket,\nIn the front the White Doe leading,\nWith fleet foot and head uplifted,\nDaring all the herd to follow.\n\nEasy seemed the task of killing,\nSo Win-gin-a twanged his bow-string,\nBut his arrow fell beside her\nAs she sprang away from danger.\n\nThrough the tanglewood, still onward,\nHead uplifted, her feet scorning\nAll the wealth of bright-hued foliage\nWhich lay scattered in her pathway.\nUp the high sand-dunes she bounded,\nIn her wake the whole herd followed,\nWhile the arrows aimed from ambush\nFell around her ever harmless.\n\nOn she sped, towards the water,\nNostrils spread to sniff the sea-breeze;\nThrough the air a whizzing arrow\nFlew, but did not touch the White Doe;\nBut a stag beside her bounding\nWounded fell among the bushes,\nAnd the herd fled in confusion,\nWaiting now not for the leader.\n\nOn again, with leaping footsteps,\nTossing head turned to the sea-shore;\nFor one fatal minute standing\nWhere the White Man's Fort had once stood;\nIn her eyes came wistful gleamings\nLike a lost hope's fleeting shadow.\n\nWhile with graceful poise she lingered,\nSwift, Wan-ches-e shot his arrow\nAimed with cruel thought to kill her;\nWhile from near and secret ambush,\nWith unerring aim, O-kis-ko\nForward sent his magic arrow,\nAimed with thought of love and mercy.\n\nTo her heart straight went _both_ arrows,\nAnd with leap of pain she bounded\nFrom the earth, and then fell forward,\nProne, amidst the forest splendor.\nO-kis-ko, with fond heart swelling,\nWan-ches-e, with pride exultant,\nTo the Doe both sprang to claim it,\nEach surprised to see the other.\n\nSuddenly, within the forest,\nSpread a gleaming mist around them,\nLike a dense white fog in summer,\nSo they scarce could grope their pathway.\nSlowly, as if warmed by sunbeams,\nFrom one spot the soft mist melted,\nWhile within its bright'ning dimness,\nWith the misty halo 'round her,\nStood a beautiful white maiden,--\n_Stood the gentle, lost Wi-no-na_.\n\nThrough her heart two arrows crosswise\nPierced the flesh with cruel wounding;\nDownward flowed the crimson blood-tide,\nStaining red the snow-white doe-skin\nWhich with grace her form enveloped,\nWhile her arms with pleading gesture\nTo O-kis-ko were outstretching.\n\nAs they gazed upon the vision,\nAll their souls with wonder filling;\nWhile the white mist slowly melted,\n_Prostrate fell the wounded maiden_.\n\nThen revealed was all the myst'ry,\nThen they saw what had befallen.\nTo her heart the magic arrow\nFirst had pierced, and lo! Wi-no-na\nOnce more breathed in form of maiden.\n\nBut while yet the charm was passing\nCame the arrow of Wan-ches-e;\nTo her heart it pierced unerring,\nPierced the pearl-inlaid triangle,\nStruck and broke the shark's tooth narrow,\n_Charm and counter-charm undoing_;\nLeaving but a mortal maiden\nWounded past the hope of healing.\n\nWoe to love, and hope, and magic!\nWoe to hearts whom death divideth!\nWhile upon her bleeding bosom\nFatal arrows made the Cross-Sign,\nWistful eyes she turned to Heaven;\n\"O forget not your Wi-no-na,\"\nWhispered she unto O-kis-ko,\nAs her soul passed to the silence.\n\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[Footnote AA: See Appendix, Note _p_.]\n\n[Footnote AB: See Appendix, Note _l_.]\n\n\n\n\nVI\n\nTHE SILVER ARROW\n\n\nFear seized on the bold Wan-ches-e\nWhen he saw the Pale-Face maiden\nStanding where had poised the White Doe,\nWhere the White Man's Fort had once stood.\nHe knew naught of magic arrows,\nNor O-kis-ko's secret mission;\nHe saw only his own arrow\nPiercing through her tender bosom,\nNever doubting but the wonder\nWhich his awe-struck eyes had witnessed\nHad been wrought by his own arrow,\nSilver arrow from a far land,\nFashioned by the skill of Pale-Face,\nGift of Pale-Face Weroanza\nTo a race she willed to conquer.\n\nAll his hatred of the Pale-Face,\nFed by fear and superstition,\nTo him made this sudden vision\nSeem an omen of the future,\nWhen the Red Man, like the White Doe,\nShould give place unto the Pale-Face,\nAnd the Indian, like the white mist,\nFade from out his native forest.\nAll his courage seemed to weaken\nWith the dread of dark disaster;\nAnd with instincts strong for safety\nFled he from the place in terror.\n\nLove hath not the fear of danger,\nAnd O-kis-ko's faith in magic\nKept him brave to meet the changes\nWhich had each so quickly followed.\nFor he saw the human maiden\nWhere had stood the living White Doe;\nAnd he knew his hazel arrow,\nCharmed with all We-nau-don's magic,\nHad restored the lost Wi-no-na\nTo reward his patient loving.\n\nBut the conflict of _two_ arrows,\nBringing death unto the maiden,\nWas a deep and darksome myst'ry\nWhich his ignorance could not fathom.\nAll the cause of his undoing\nSaw he in the silver arrow;\nSo with true love's tireless effort,\nQuick he strove to break its power.\n\nFrom her heart he plucked the arrow,\nHastened to the magic water,\nHoping to destroy the evil\nWhich had stilled the maiden's pulses.\nIn the sparkling spring he laid it\nSo no spot was left uncovered,\nSo the full charm of the water\nMight act on the blood-stained arrow.\n\nAs the blood-stains from it melted,\nBlood of Pale-Face shed by Red Man,\nSlowly, while he watched and waited,\n_All the sparkling water vanished;_\nDry became the magic fountain,\nLeaving bare the silver arrow.\n\nWas it thus the spell would weaken\nWhich had wrought his love such evil?\nWould she be again awakened\nWhen he sought her in the thicket?\nMust he shoot this arrow at her\nTo restore her throbbing pulses?\nMust he seek again We-nau-don\nTo make warm her icy beauty?\n\nWhile he of himself sought guidance,\nSought to know the hidden meaning\nOf the mysteries he witnessed;\nLo! another mystic wonder\nMet his eyes as he sat musing.\n\nFrom the arrow made by Pale-Face,\nAs th' enchanted water left it,\nSprang a tiny shoot with leaflets\nPushing upward to the sunlight.\n\nDid the arrow dry the fountain\nWith the blight of death it carried?\nOr in going, had the water\nLeft a charm upon the arrow?\nDid the heart-blood of the Pale-Face\nFrom the arrow in the water\nCause the coming of the green shoot,\nWhich reached upward to the sunlight?\n\nAll O-kis-ko's love and courage\nCould not give him greater knowledge.\nSavage mind could not unravel\nAll the meaning of this marvel.\nFear forbade him touch the arrow\nLest he should destroy the green shoot;\nSo he left the tender leaflets\nReaching upward to the sunlight,\nSought again the lifeless maiden\nFor whose love his soul had hungered;\nKnelt beside her in the forest,\nWith the awe of death upon him,\nWhich in heathen as in Christian\nMoves the human soul to worship.\n\nAll his faith in savage magic\nTurned to frenzy at his failure;\nAnd the helplessness of mortals\nPressed upon him like a burden;\nWhile a mighty longing seized him\nFor a knowledge of the Unknown,\nFor a light to pierce the Silence\nInto which none enter living.\nAnd unconsciously his spirit\nRose in quest of Might Supernal,\nWhich should rule both dead and living,\nLeaving naught to chance or magic;\nWhich should seize the throbbing pulses\nEbbing from a dying mortal,\nAnd create a higher being\nFree from thrall of earthly nature;\nAlmost grasping in his yearning\nKnowledge of the God Eternal,\nIn whose hand the earth lies helpless,\nIn whose heart all souls find refuge.\n\nBut no light came to O-kis-ko;\nStill the burden pressed upon him,\nAnd a pall of hopeless yearning\nWrapped his soul in voiceless sorrow\nAs he gazed upon the maiden\nWith death's mysteries enfolded.\nThen he made upon her bosom\nThe strange Cross-Sign she had taught him;\nFrom his shoulders took the mantle\nMade of skins of many sea-gulls,\nGently wrapped the maiden in it,\nHeaped the tinted leaves about her;\nLeaving all his own life's brightness\nWith her where the shadows darkened.\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\nThus the ancient legend runneth, with its plaint of hopeless doom,\nBearing in its heart the fragrance of the Truth's enduring bloom,\nStanding in the light of knowledge, where developed ages meet,\nWe can read the mystic omens which O-kis-ko's eyes did greet.\nAnd to us they seem the symbols of what coming ages brought,\nRealization gives the answer, which in vain the Savage sought.\nFor we know the silver arrow, fatal to all sorcery,\nWas the gleaming light of Progress speeding from across the sea,\nBefore which the Red Man vanished, shrinking from its silvery light\nAs the magic waters yielded to the silver arrow's blight.\nAnd the tiny shoot with leaflets, by the sunlight warmed to life,\nWas the Vine of Civilization in the wilderness of strife;\nWith no friendly hand to tend it, yet it grew midst slight and wrong,\nTaking root in other places,[AC]--growing green, and broad, and strong,\nTill its vigor knew no weakness, with its branches flower-fraught,\nTill a prosp'rous land it sheltered where th' oppressed a refuge sought,\nTill its fruit made all who labored 'neath its shade both bold and free,\nTill a people dwelt beneath it strong to meet their destiny.\n\nNow beneath its spreading branches dwells a nation brave and free,\nRaising glad, triumphant p\u00e6ans for the boon of Liberty;\nHolding fast the Holy Cross-Sign,--Heirs of Duty and of Light,--\nStill they speed the arrow, Progress, on its civilizing flight;\nKeeping bright the Fires of Freedom, where Man, Brotherhood may know,\nFor God's breath upon the altar keeps the sacred flame aglow.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\nFOOTNOTES:\n\n[Footnote AC: Jamestown and Plymouth Rock.]\n\n\n\n\nAPPENDIX\n\n\nNOTE _a_.--\"We viewed the land about us, being where we first landed\nvery sandy and low towards the water side, but so full of grapes as the\nvery beating and surge of the sea overflowed them, of which we found\nsuch plenty, as well there as in all places else, both on the sand and\non the green soil, on the hills as in the plains, as well on every\nlittle shrub, as also climbing towards the tops of high cedars, that I\nthink in all the world the like abundance is not to be found.\"--_First\nvoyage of Amadas and Barlowe, 1584. From Hakluyt._\n\nNOTE _b_.--\"The second of July we found shoal water, where we smelled\nso sweet and so strong a smell as if we had been in the midst of some\ndelicate garden abounding with all kinds of odoriferous flowers, by\nwhich we were assured that the land could not be far distant.\"--_First\nvoyage of Amadas and Barlowe, 1584._\n\nNOTE _c_.--\"Deer, in some places there are great store: near unto the\nseacoast they are of the ordinary bigness of ours in England, and some\nless: but further up into the country where there is better feed, they\nare greater.\"--_Harriot's Report._\n\nNOTE _d_.--\"The Governor (John White) with divers of his company,\nwalked to the north end of the island, where Master Ralph Lane had his\nfort, with sundry necessary and decent dwelling houses, made by his men\nabout it, the year before, where we hoped to find some signs, or\ncertain knowledge of our fifteen men. When we came thither we found the\nfort razed down, but all the houses standing unhurt, saving that the\nneather rooms of them, and also of the fort, were overgrown with melons\nof divers sorts, and deer within them, feeding on those melons; so we\nreturned to our company, without hope of ever seeing any of the fifteen\nalive.\"--_Hakluyt._\n\nNOTE _e_.--\"At our first landing they seemed as though they would fight\nwith us, but perceiving us begin to march with our shot towards them,\nthey turned their backs and fled. Then Manteo, their countryman, called\nto them in their own language, whom, as soon as they heard, they\nreturned, and threw away their bows and arrows, and some of them came\nunto us embracing and entertaining us friendly, desiring us not to\ngather or spoil any of their corn, for that they had but little. We\nanswered them that neither their corn nor any other thing of theirs\nshould be diminished by any of us, and that our coming was only to\nrenew the old love, that was between us and them at the first, and to\nlive with them as brethren and friends; which answer seemed to please\nthem well, wherefore they requested us to walk up to their town, who\nthere feasted us after their manner, and desired us earnestly _that\nthere might be some token or badge given them of us_, whereby we might\nknow them to be our friends,\" etc.\n\n\"And also we understood by them of Croatoan, how that the fifteen\nEnglishmen left at Roanoak the year before, by Sir Richard Grenville,\nwere suddenly set upon by thirty of the men of Secota, Aquoscogoc, and\nDasamonguepeuc, in manner following. They conveyed themselves secretly\nbehind the trees, near the houses where our men carelessly lived, and\nhaving perceived that of those fifteen they could see but eleven only,\ntwo of those savages appeared to the eleven Englishmen, calling to them\nby friendly signs that but two of their chief men should come unarmed\nto speak with those two savages, who seemed also to be unarmed.\nWherefore two of the chiefest of our Englishmen went gladly to them;\nbut whilst one of those savages traitorously embraced one of our men,\nthe other with his sword of wood, which he had secretly hidden under\nhis mantle, struck him on the head and slew him, and presently the\nother eight and twenty savages shewed themselves; the other Englishman\nperceiving this, fled to his company, whom the savages pursued with\ntheir bows and arrows so fast that the Englishmen were forced to take\nthe house, wherein all their victuals and weapons were; but the savages\nforthwith set the same on fire, by means whereof our men were forced to\ntake up such weapons as came first to hand, and without order to run\nforth among the savages, with whom they skirmished above an hour. In\nthis skirmish another of our men was shot into the mouth with an\narrow, where he died; and also one of the savages was shot into the\nside by one of our men, with a wild fire arrow, whereof he died\npresently. The place where they fought was of great advantage to the\nsavages, by means of the thick trees, behind which the savages through\ntheir nimbleness defended themselves, and so offended our men with\ntheir arrows, that our men, being some of them hurt, retired fighting\nto the water side where their boat lay, with which they fled towards\nHatorask. By that time they had rowed but a quarter of a mile, they\nespied their four fellows coming from a creek thereby, where they had\nbeen to fetch oysters; these four they received into their boat,\nleaving Roanoak, and landed on a little island on the right hand of our\nentrance into the harbor of Hatorask, where they remained awhile, but\nafterwards departed, whither as yet we know not.\"--_Hakluyt._\n\nNOTE _f_.--\"The thirteenth of August, our savage, Manteo, by the\ncommandment of Sir Walter Raleigh, was christened in Roanoak, and\ncalled Lord thereof, and of Dasamonguepeuc, in reward of his faithful\nservices.\"--_Hakluyt._\n\nNOTE _g_.--\"The eighteenth, Eleanor, daughter to the Governor, and wife\nto Ananias Dare, one of the assistants, was delivered of a daughter, in\nRoanoak, and the same was christened there the Sunday following, and\nbecause this child was the first Christian born in Virginia, she was\nnamed Virginia.\"--_Hakluyt._\n\nNOTE _h_.--\"The twenty-second of August, the whole company, both of the\nassistants and planters, came to the Governor, and with one voice\nrequested him to return himself into England, for the better and sooner\nobtaining of supplies and other necessaries for them; but he refused\nit, and alleged many sufficient causes why he would not.... The next\nday, not only the assistants, but divers others, as well women as men,\nbegan to renew their requests to the Governor again, to take upon him\nto return into England for the supplies and dispatch of all such things\nas there were to be done.... The Governor being at the last, through\ntheir extreme entreating, constrained to return into England, having\nthen but half a day's respite to prepare himself for the same, departed\nfrom Roanoak the seven and twentieth of August in the morning, and the\nsame day about midnight came aboard the Fly-boat who already had\nweighed anchor, and rode without the bar, the admiral riding by them,\nwho but the same morning was newly come thither again. The same day\nboth the ships weighed anchor and set sail for England.\"--_Hakluyt._\n\nNOTE _k_.--\"Our boats and all things filled again, we put off from\nHatorask, being the number of nineteen persons in both boats; but\nbefore we could get to the place where our planters were left, it was\nso exceeding dark, that we overshot the place a quarter of a mile,\nwhere we espied towards the North end of the island the light of a\ngreat fire through the woods to the which we presently rowed: when we\ncame right over against it we let fall our grapnel near the shore, and\nsounded with a trumpet a call, and afterwards many familiar English\ntunes of songs, and called to them friendly; but we had no answer, we\ntherefore landed at daybreak, and coming to the fire we found the grass\nand sundry rotten trees burning about the place. From hence we went\nthrough the woods to that part of the island directly over against\nDasamonguepeuc, and from thence we returned by the water side round\nabout the north point of the island, until we came to the place where I\nleft our colony in the year 1586. In all this way we saw in the sand\nthe print of the savages' feet of two or three sorts trodden in the\nnight; and as we entered up the sandy bank, upon a tree, in the very\nbrow thereof, were curiously carved these fair Roman letters C. R. O.,\nwhich letters presently we knew to signify the place where I should\nfind the planters seated, according to a secret token agreed upon\nbetween them and me at my last departure from them; which was, that in\nany way they should not fail to write or carve on the trees or posts of\nthe doors the name of the place where they should be seated; for at my\ncoming away they were prepared to remove from Roanoak fifty miles into\nthe main. Therefore at my departure from them in An. 1587, I willed\nthem that if they should happen to be distressed in any of those\nplaces, that then they should carve over the letters or name, a cross +\nin this form; but we found no such sign of distress.... And having well\nconsidered of this, we passed towards the place where they were left in\nsundry houses, but we found the houses taken down, and the place very\nstrongly enclosed with a high palisade of great trees, with curtains\nand flankers, very fort-like, and one of the chief trees or posts at\nthe right side of the entrance had the bark taken off, and five feet\nfrom the ground in fair capital letters was graven CROATOAN without any\ncross or sign of distress.... I greatly joyed that I had safely found a\ncertain token of their safe being at Croatoan, which is the place where\nManteo was born, and the savages of the island our friends.\"--_From\nGovernor White's account of his voyage in search of the colonists,\nafter the defeat of the Spanish Armada. Hakluyt, Vol. III._\n\nNOTE _l_.--\"We brought home also two of the savages, being lusty men,\nwhose names were Wan-ches-e and Man-te-o.\"--_First voyage by Amadas and\nBarlowe._\n\nNOTE _m_.--All authorities agree in the statement that the favorite\ntime among the Indians for an attack on an enemy was at, or about,\ndaybreak.\n\nNOTE _n_.--\"Into this river falls another great river called Cipo in\nwhich there is found great store of mussels in which there are\npearls.\"--_Voyage of Amadas and Barlowe._\n\n\"In her ears she had bracelets of pearls, hanging down to her middle,\nand these were of the bigness of good pease.\"--_Voyage of Amadas and\nBarlowe._\n\n\"Sometimes feeding on mussels, we found some pearle, but it was our hap\nto meet with ragges, or of a pied colour; not having yet discovered\nthose places where we heard of better and more plenty.\"--_Harriot's\nReport._\n\nNOTE _o_.--\"The manner of making their boats in Virginia is very\nwonderful. For whereas they want instruments of iron or others like\nunto ours, yet they know how to make them as handsomely, to sail with\nwhere they list in their rivers, and to fish withal, as ours. First\nthey choose some long and thick tree, according to the bigness of the\nboat which they would frame, and make a fire on the ground about the\nroots thereof, kindling the same by little and little with dry moss of\ntrees, and chips of wood that the flame should not mount up too high,\nand burn too much of the length of the tree. When it is almost burnt\nthrough, and ready to fall they make a new fire which they suffer to\nburn until the tree falls of its own accord. Then burning off the top\nand boughs of the tree in such wise that the body of the same may\nretain his just length, they raise it upon poles laid over cross wise\nupon forked posts at such a reasonable height as they may handsomely\nwork upon it. Then take they off the bark with certain shells; they\nreserve the innermost part of the bark for the nethermost part of the\nboat. On the other side they make a fire according to the length of the\nbody of the tree saving at both the ends. That which they think is\nsufficiently burned, they quench and scrape away with shells, and\nmaking a new fire they burn it again and so they continue, sometimes\nburning and sometimes scraping until the boat have sufficient\nbottoms.\"--_Harriot's Report._\n\nNOTE _p_.--\"They are a people clothed with loose mantles made of deer\nskin, and aprons of the same round about their middles.\"--_Harriot's\nReport._\n\nNOTE _s_.--\"They have commonly conjurers or jugglers, which use strange\ngestures, and often contrary to nature in their enchantments: For they\nbe very familiar with devils of whom they inquire what their enemies\ndo, or other such things.\"--_Harriot's Report._\n\n\n       *       *       *       *       *\n\n\nTranscriber's Notes\n\n\nPage xiii: Changed thay to that\n  (Tradition relates thay they transplanted this vine).\n\nSpelling variations:\n\nPage 55: Das-a-mon-que-peu\nPage 63: Das-a-mon-gue-pue\nPages 83, 84, 86: Dasamonguepeuc\n\nPages xii, xiv: Hariot\nAppendix Notes: Harriot","title":"The white doe : $b the fate of Virginia Dare, an Indian legend","tradition":"myth-cosmogony","translated_text":null,"word_count":16470}