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THE SEEDS OF TRUTH 23

THE LEGEND OF THE WHITE DOE

Frontispiece from an original drawing by May Louise Barrett.

In the tomb of vanished ages sleep th' ungarnered truths of Time, Where the pall of silence covers deeds of honor and of crime; Deeds of sacrifice and danger, which the careless earth forgets, There, in ever-deep'ning shadows, lie embalmed in mute regrets. Would-be-gleaners of the Present vainly grope amid this gloom; Flowers of Truth to be immortal must be gathered while they bloom, Else they pass into the Silence, man's neglect their only blight, And the Gleaner of the Ages stores them far from human sight. Yet a perfume, sweet and subtle, lingers where each flower grew, Rising from the shattered petals, bathed and freshened by the dew; And this perfume, in the twilight, forms a mist beneath the skies, Out of which, like airy phantoms, legends and traditions rise; For the Seeds of Truth are buried in a legend's inmost heart, To transplant them in the sunlight justifies the poet's art.

THE SEEDS OF TRUTH

ROANOAK, 1587

Shimmering waters, aweary of tossing, Hopeful of rest, ripple on to the shore; Dimpling with light, as they waver and quiver, Echoing faintly the ocean's wild roar. Locked in the arms of the tremulous waters Nestles an island, with beauty abloom, Where the warm kiss of an amorous summer Fills all the air with a languid perfume. Windward, the roar of the turbulent breakers Warns of the dangers of rock and of reef; Burdened with mem'ries of sorrowful shipwreck, They break on the sands in torrents of grief. Leeward, the forest, grown giant in greenness, Shelters a land where a fervid sun shines; Wild with the beauty of riotous nature, Thick with the tangles of fruit-laden vines. From fragrant clusters, grown purple with ripeness, Rare, spicy odors float out to the sea, Where the gray gulls flit with restless endeavor, Skimming the waves in their frolicsome glee.

Out from the shore stalks the stately white heron, Seeking his food from the deep without fear, Gracefully waving wide wings as he rises When the canoe of the Indian draws near. Through reedy brake and the tangled sea-grasses Wander the stag and the timid-eyed doe Down to the water's edge, watchful and wary For arrows that fly from the red hunter's bow. Fearless Red Hunter! his birthright the forest, Lithe as the antelope, joyous and free. Trusting his bow for his food and his freedom, Wresting a tribute from forest and sea, No chilling forecast of doom in the future Daunts his brave spirit, by freedom made bold. Far o'er the wildwood he roams at his pleasure, The fierce, brawny Red Man is king of the wold.

Friendly red hunters greet them with kindness, Tell the sad tale how their countrymen died, Beg for a token of friendship and safety, Promise in love and in peace to abide. Manteo's heart glows with friendly remembrance, He greets them as brothers and offers good cheer; No thrill of welcome is felt by Wanchese, His heart is bitter with malice and fear. Envying men his superiors in wisdom, Fearing a race his superiors in skill; Sullen and silent he watches the strangers, Whom from the first he determines to kill.

Then the sign of the Cross, on the brow of the Indian, Seals to the savage the promise of life; Sweet symbol of sacrifice, emblem of duty, Standard of Peace, though borne amidst strife: Draped with the sombre, stained banner of Conquest, Dark with the guilt of man's murder and greed, Yet bright with God's message of love and forgiveness Unto a universe welded to creed.

Gently the morning breeze tosses the tree-tops, Low ebbs the tide on the outlying sand; When a tiny white babe opens eyes to the sunlight, Heaven's sweet pledge for the weal of the land. Babe of the Wilderness! tenderly cherished! Signed with the Cross on the next Sabbath Day; Brave English Mother! through danger and sorrow, For a nation of Christians thou leadest the way.

Back to the home-land, across the deep water, Goes the wise leader, their needs to abate; Leaving with sorrow the babe and its mother In a strange land as a hostage to Fate. Many long months pass in busy home-making, Sweet English customs prevail on the isle; Anxious eyes watch for the ship in the offing, Saddened hearts droop, but the lips bravely smile.

Gone are the sweet dreamy days of the summer, In from the ocean the winter winds shriek; Dangers encompass and enemies threaten, Mother and child other refuge must seek. Mother and child, as in Bethlehem story, Flee from the hate of their blood-thirsty foes; Hopeless of help from their own land and people, They seek friendly tribes to find rest from their woes.

To the fair borders of Croatoan Island, Over the night-covered waters they flee; Seeking for safety with Manteo's people, Leaving the word "Croatoan" on a tree. Name of the refuge in which they sought shelter, Only the name of a tribe, nothing more; Sign whereby those who would seek them might follow To their new home on the Croatoan's shore.

Why did they leave the rude fort they had builded? Why did they seek far away a new home? O innocent babe! Roanoak's lost nestling! How shall we learn where thy footsteps did roam? 'Mid the rude tribes of the primeval forest, Bearing the signet of Christ on thy brow, Wert thou the teacher and guide of the savage? Who, of thy mission, can aught tell us now? Through the dim ages comes only the perfume, Left where the flowers of Truth fell to earth; With ne'er a gleaner to treasure the blossoms, Save the sweet petals of baptism and birth. Vainly we seek on Time's shore for thy footprints, Hid in a mist of pathos is thy fate; Yet of a life under savage enchantment Quaint Indian legends do strangely relate.

FOOTNOTES:

THE LEGEND OF THE WHITE DOE

THE REFUGEES

In the Land-of-Wind-and-Water, Loud the sea bemoaned its sameness; Dashing shoreward with impatience To explore the landward mysteries. On the sand the waves spread boldly, Vainly striving to reach higher; Then abashed by vain ambition, Glided to their ordained duty. There the pine-tree, tall and stately, Whispered low the ocean's murmur; Strove to soothe the restless waters With its lullaby of sighing. There the tall and dank sea-grasses, From the storm-tide gathered secrets Of the caverns filled with treasures, Milky pearls and tinted coral, Stores of amber and of jacinth, In the caves festooned with sea-weed, Where the Sea-King held his revels And the Naiads danced in beauty. In this Land-of-Wind-and-Water, Dowered with the sunshine's splendor, Juicy grapes grew in profusion, Draping all the trees with greenness, And the maize grew hard and yellow, With the sunshine in its kernels. Through the forest roamed the black bear, And the red deer boldly herded; Through the air flew birds of flavor, And the sea was full of fishes, Till the Red Man knew no hunger, And his wigwam hung with trophies.

There brave Man-te-o, the Faithful, Ruled the Cro-a-to-ans with firmness, Dwelt in peace beside the waters, Smoked his pipe beneath the pine-tree, Gazed with pride upon his bear-skins Which hung ready for the winter. Told his people all the marvels Of the Land-of-the-Pale-Faces; Of the ships with wings like sea-birds Wherein he had crossed the water; Of the Pale-Face Weroanza Whom he saw in her own country; Of her robes of silken texture, Of her wisdom and her power; Told them of her warlike people And their ships which breathed the lightning. How he pledged with them a friendship, Hoping they would come to teach him How to make his people mighty, How to make them strong in battle So the other tribes would fear them. And the dream of future greatness Filled the Cro-a-to-ans with courage; And their hearts grew warm and friendly To the race of white-faced strangers.

When bold white men came among them, To the isle of Ro-a-no-ak, Man-te-o, the friendly Weroance, Faithful proved to all his pledges. Smoked with them the pipe of friendship, Took their God to be his Father; Took upon his swarthy forehead Their strange emblem of salvation, Emblem of the One Great Spirit, Father of all tribes and nations. Man-te-o, the friend and brother, Bade them fear the false Wan-ches-e, And the Weroance Win-gin-a, Whose hearts burned with bitter hatred For the men they feared in combat, For the strangers who defied them.

When the Pale-Face, weak and hungry, Feeble from continued labor, Shivered in the blasts of winter Which blew cold across the water, Then Wan-ches-e planned their ruin, With Win-gin-a sought to slay them.

To the isle of Ro-a-no-ak, Where the Pale-Face slept unguarded, Sped the swift canoes of Red Men, Gliding through the silent shadows. As the sky grew red with dawning, While they dreamed of home and kindred, Suddenly with whoop of murder Wily Indians swarmed around them.

Skill of Pale-Face, craft of Red Man, Met in fierce, determined battle; While within the Fort called Ralegh Many arrows fell, like raindrops. Arrows tipped with serpent's poison, Arrows tipped with blazing rosin, Winged with savage thirst for murder, Aimed with cruel skill to torture. Threatened by the blazing roof-tree Then the Pale-Face crouched in terror; Saw the folly of resistance, Feared his doom, and fled for safety.

Man-te-o, alert for danger, From afar saw signs of conflict; Saw the waves of smoke ascending Heavenward, like prayers for rescue. Swift, with boats and trusty warriors, Crossed he then to Ro-a-no-ak; Strong to help his Pale-Face brothers, Faithful to his friendly pledges.

As the daylight slowly faded, Hopeless of the bloody struggle, Stealthily the Pale-Face warriors Fled with Man-te-o's brave people. Left they then the Fort called Ralegh, Left the dead within its stockade; Sought another island refuge, Hoping there to rest in safety.

Man-te-o sought for the mother, She with babe there born and nurtured 'Neath the shadow of disaster, In the Land-of-Wind-and-Water. "Come," said he, "the darkness falleth, All your people must flee henceward; Wan-ches-e will show no mercy, You must not become his captive. Take the papoose from thy bosom, Call the white chief whom thou lovest, Haste with me upon the flood-tide To my wigwam on Wo-ko-kon."

Noiseless, she amid the conflict Sought her heart's mate to flee with her; Useless all the strife and courage, Useless all the rude home-making; Shrine for worship, fort for safety, Hope of future peace and plenty, All were vain; yet life we cherish, Far above all boons we hold it: So she hastened on her mission For the life of self and loved ones.

As they neared the island border, Pale-Face husband, child, and mother, Man-te-o in silence leading, Every sense alive to danger, Suddenly the Pale-Face father Thought him of the parting caution Given by their absent leader: If they fled in search of safety On a tree to leave a token, Whereby he might surely find them, In the land which gave them shelter, When he came again to seek them.

With a smothered cry of horror, In an agony of sorrow, She would fain have lingered near him, But that Man-te-o urged onward. If discovered, flight was futile, Weakness now meant worse disaster; She must save her helpless baby Though her heart be rent with anguish.

Frantic with love's desolation, Strong with thoughts of home and father, With a woman's wondrous calmness When great peril calls for action, Safe she placed the sleeping infant 'Cross the brawny arms of Man-te-o, While with knife drawn from his girdle Carved she on another live-oak Plain, the one word "CROATOAN" As a sign to all her people. Trusting all to savage friendship, Cutting hope with every letter, Praying God to guide her father To the haven she was seeking.

Trust is woman's strongest bulwark, All true manhood yields unto it. As her sad eyes turned upon him Man-te-o was moved with pity For the brave and tender woman, Friendless in the land without him.

On the brow of Pale-Face baby First he made the Holy Cross-Sign; Then upon the sad-eyed mother Traced the sign her people taught him; Then again the sacred symbol Outlined on his own dark forehead; And with open hand uplifted Sealed his promise of protection; Linking thus his pledge of safety With her faith in Unseen Power.

Mute with grief, she trusted in him; In his boat they crossed the water, While the night fell like a mantle Spread in mercy to help save them.

When in Cro-a-to-an they landed, There they found the few survivors Of that day of doom to many, Glad once more to greet each other. Man-te-o within his wigwam From the cold wind gave them shelter, Shared with them his furry bear-skins, Made them warm, and warmth gave courage To meet life's relentless duties.

Then he summoned all the people, Called the old men and the young men, Bade the squaws to come and listen, Showed the papoose to the women. They gazed on its tender whiteness, Stroked the mother's flaxen tresses; "'Tis a snow-papoose" they whispered, "It will melt when comes the summer."

Man-te-o said to the warriors: "Ye all know these Pale-Face people Whom Wan-ches-e sought to murder, They have often made us welcome. Brave their hearts, but few are living, If left friendless these will perish; We have store of corn and venison, They are hungry, let us feed them; They have lightning for their arrows, Let them teach us how to shoot it. They with us shall search the forest, And our game shall be abundant; Let them teach us their strange wisdom And become with us one people."

And the old men, grave in counsel, And the young men, mute with deference, While the uppowoc was burning, Pondered on his words thus spoken, And to Man-te-o gave answer: "All your words are full of wisdom; We will share with them our venison, They shall be as our own people."

From the isle of Ro-a-no-ak Thus the Pale-Face fled for succor, Thus in Cro-a-to-an's fair borders Found a home with friendly Red Men. Nevermore to see white faces, Nevermore to see their home-land, Yet to all the future ages Sending proof of honest daring; Forging thus a link of effort In the chain of human progress.

FOOTNOTES:

THE PALE-FACE MAIDEN

Nature feels no throb of pity, Makes no pause for human heartbreak; Though with agony we quiver, She gives forth no sign of feeling. Waxed and waned the moon, in season, Ebbed and flowed the tides obedient; Summers filled the land with plenty, Winters chilled the summers' ardor. No winged ships gleamed in the offing; No Pale-Faces sought their kindred; In the Land-of-Wind-and-Water Roamed the Red Man unmolested.

While the babe of Ro-a-no-ak Grew in strength and wondrous beauty; Like a flower of the wildwood, Bloomed beside the Indian maidens. And Wi-no-na Sk? they called her, She of all the maidens fairest. In the tangles of her tresses Sunbeams lingered, pale and yellow; In her eyes the limpid blueness Of the noonday sky was mirrored. And the squaws of darksome features Smiled upon her fair young beauty; Felt their woman hearts within them Warming to the Pale-Face maiden. And the braves, who scorned all weakness, Listened to her artless prattle, While their savage natures softened, Of the change themselves unconscious.

Like the light of summer morning Beaming on a world in slumber Was the face of young Wi-no-na To the Cro-a-to-ans who loved her. She, whose mind bore in its dawning Impress of developed races, To the rude, untutored savage Seemed divinely 'dowed with reason. She, the heir of civilization, They, the slaves of superstition, Gave to her a silent rev'rence, Growing better with such giving. Oft she told them that the Cross-Sign, Made by Man-te-o before them When he talked to his own nation, Was the symbol of a Spirit Great, and good, and wise, and loving; He who kept the maize-fields fruitful, He who filled the sea with fishes, He who made the sun to warm them And sent game to feed His children.

If, when in their games or councils, They grew quarrelsome and angry, Suddenly among them standing Was a maiden like the sunrise, Making with her taper finger This strange sign which they respected; And without a word of pleading Strife and wrath would no more vex them, While the influence of her presence Lingered 'round them like enchantment.

Thus the babe of Ro-a-no-ak Grew to be the joy and teacher Of a tribe of native heathen In the land which gave her shelter. And the tide of her affections Flowed to those who gave her friendship; Whom alone she knew as human, Whom to her became as kindred.

FOOTNOTES:

SAVAGE SORCERY

Man-to-ac, the Mighty Father, When he filled the earth with blessings, Deep within the heart of Woman Hid the burning Need-of-Loving; Which through her should warm the ages With a flame of mutual feeling, Throbbing through her sons and daughters With a force beyond their power. And this law of human loving, Changeless through unending changes, Fills each living heart with yearning For another heart to love it; And against this ceaseless craving Creed, nor clime, nor color standeth; Heart to heart all nature crieth That the earth may thrill with gladness.

So the young braves of the nation, Thrilled with love for fair Wi-no-na, Made rude ornaments to please her, Laid the red deer at her wigwam. Brought her skins of furry rabbits Soft and white as her own skin was; Robbed the black bear and the otter That her bed might soft and warm be. And the children of the forest Were uplifted by such loving Of a higher type of being, Who yet throbbed with human instincts.

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