The Indian Princess. James Nelson Barker

sometimes rides upon the tempest's wing,

      Driv'n us to happiest destinies, e'en then

      When most we fear'd destruction from the blast.

      Rolfe.

      Let our dull, sluggish countrymen at home

      Still creep around their little isle of fogs,

      Drink its dank vapours, and then hang themselves.

      In this free atmosphere and ample range

      The bosom can dilate, the pulses play,

      And man, erect, can walk a manly round.

      Robin. [Aside.]

      Aye, and be scalp'd and roasted by the Indians.

      Smith.

      Now, gallant cavalier adventurers,

      On this our landing spot we'll rear a town

      Shall bear our good king's name to after-time,

      And yours along with it; for ye are men

      Well worth the handing down; whose paged names

      Will not disgrace posterity to read:

      Men born for acts of hardihood and valour,

      Whose stirring spirits scorn'd to lie inert,

      Base atoms in the mass of population

      That rots in stagnant Europe. Ye are men

      Who a high wealth and fame will bravely win,

      And wear full worthily. I still shall be

      The foremost in all troubles, toil, and danger,

      Your leader and your captain, nought exacting

      Save strict obedience to the watchful care

      Which points to your own good: be wary then,

      And let not any mutinous hand unravel

      Our close knit compact. Union is its strength:

      Be that remember'd ever. Gallant gentlemen,

      We have a noble stage, on which to act

      A noble drama; let us then sustain

      Our sev'ral parts with credit and with honour.

      Now, sturdy comrades, cheerly to our tasks!

[Exeunt Smith, Rolfe, &c.Scene II. A grove Enter Walter and Larry

      Larry. Now by the black eyes of my Katy, but that master of yours and captain of mine is a prince!

      Walter. Tut, you hav'n't seen an inch yet of the whole hero. Had you followed him as I have, from a knee-high urchin, you'd confess that there never was soldier fit to cry comrade to him. O! 'twould have made your blood frisk in your veins to have seen him in Turkey and Tartary, when he made the clumsy infidels dance to the music of his broad sword!

      Larry. Troth now, the mussulmans may have been mightily amused by the caper; but for my part I should modestly prefer skipping to the simple jig of an Irish bag-pipe.

      Walter. Then he had the prettiest mode of forming their manners —

      Larry. Arrah, how might that be?

      Walter. For example: whenever they were so ill-bred as to appear with their turbans on before him, he uses me this keen argument to convince them they shewed discourtesy. He whips me out his sword, and knocks their turbans off —

      Larry. Knocks their turbans off?

      Walter. Aye, egad, and their heads to boot.

      Larry. A dev'lish cutting way of reasoning indeed; that argument cou'dn't be answered asily.

      Walter. Devil a tongue ever wagg'd in replication, Larry. – Ah! my fairy of felicity – my mouthful of melody – my wife —

Enter Alice

      Well, Alice, we are now in the wilds of Virginia, and, tell me truly, doesn't repent following me over the ocean, wench? wilt be content in these wild woods, with only a little husband, and a great deal of love, pretty Alice?

      Alice. Can you ask that? are not all places alike if you are with me, Walter?

Song.– Alice

      In this wild wood will I range;

      Listen, listen, dear!

      Nor sigh for towns so fine, to change

      This forest drear.

      Toils and dangers I'll despise,

      Never, never weary;

      And be, while love is in thine eyes,

      Ever cheery.

      Ah! what to me were cities gay;

      Listen, listen, dear!

      If from me thou wert away,

      Alas! how drear!

      Oh! still o'er sea, o'er land I'll rove,

      Never, never weary;

      And follow on where leads my love,

      Ever cheery.

      Larry. Och! the creature!

      Walter. Let my lips tell thee what my tongue cannot.

[Kiss.

      Larry. Aye, do, do stop her mellifluous mouth; for the little nightingale warbles so like my Kate, she makes me sigh for Ballinamoné; ah! just so would the constant creature carol all day about, roving through the seas and over the woods.

Enter Robin

      Robin. Master Walter, the captain is a going to explore the country, and you must along.

      Walter. That's our fine captain, always stirring.

      Robin. Plague on his industry! would you think it, we are all incontinently to fall a chopping down trees, and building our own houses, like the beavers.

      Larry. Well, sure, that's the fashionable mode of paying rent in this country.

      Alice. O, Walter, these merciless savages! I sha'n't be merry till you return —

      Robin. I warrant ye, mistress Alice – Lord love you I shall be here.

      Walter. Cheerly, girl; our captain will make the red rogues scamper like so many dun deer. Savages, quotha! at sight of him, their copper skins will turn pale as silver, with the very alchemy of fear. Come, a few kisses, en passant, and then away! cheerly, my dainty Alice.

[Exeunt Walter and Alice.

      Robin. Aye, go your ways, master Walter, and when you are gone —

      Larry. What then! I suppose you'll be after talking nonsense to his wife. But if ever I catch you saying your silly things —

      Robin. Mum, Lord love you, how can you think it? But hark ye, master Larry, in this same drama that our captain spoke of, you and I act parts, do we not?

      Larry. Arrah, to be sure, we are men of parts.

      Robin. Shall I tell you in earnest what we play in this merry comedy?

      Larry. Be doing it.

      Robin. Then we play the parts of two fools, look you, to part with all at home, and come to these savage parts, where, Heaven shield us, our heads may be parted from our bodies. Think what a catastrophe, master Larry!

      Larry. So the merry comedy ends a doleful tragedy, and exit fool in the character of a hero! That's glory, sirrah, a very feather in our cap.

      Robin. A light gain to weigh against the heavy loss of one's head. Feather quotha! what use of a plumed hat without a head to wear it withal?

      Larry. Tut, man, our captain will lead us through all dangers.

      Robin. Will he? an' he catch me following him through these same dangers —

      Larry. Och, you spalpeen! I mean he'll lead us out of peril.

      Robin. Thank him for nothing;