Classic Poem

News of the strangers stirr'd Powhatan's dreams.
The mighty monarch of the tribes that roam
A thousand forests, and on countless streams
Urge the swift bark and dare the cataract's foam;
The haughtiest chieftains in his presence stood
Tame as a child, and from the field of blood
His war-cry thrill'd with fear the foeman's home:
His nod was death, his frown was fix'd as fate,
Unchangeable his love, invincible his hate.