Ponteach Part 10

But will not many Indian Chiefs refuse To join the Lists, and hold themselves oblig'd T' a.s.sist the Foe when hardly press'd by us?

PONTEACH.

I've sounded all their Minds; there's but a few That are not warm and hearty in our Cause, And those faint Hearts we'll punish at our Leisure: For hither tends my Purpose; to subdue The Tribes who now their annual Homage pay To the imperious haughty Mohawk Chief, Whose Pride and Insolence 'tis Time to curb.

He ever boasts the Greatness of his Empire, The Swiftness, Skill and Valour of his Warriors, His former Conquests, and his fresh Exploits, The Terror of his Arms in distant Lands, And on a Footing puts himself with me, For Wisdom to contrive, and Power to do.

Such a proud Rival must not breathe the Air; I'll die in fighting, or I'll reign alone O'er every Indian Nation, Tribe, and Chief.

But this in solemn Silence we conceal, Till they're drawn in to fight the common Foe, Then from my Face, the sly Disguise I'll cast, And shew them Ponteach to their Surprise.

TENESCO.

Thy Plan is wise, and may Success attend it; May all the warlike numerous Tribes unite, Nor cease to conquer while thou hast a Foe!

Then may they join and own thee for their Sovereign, Pay full Submission to thy scepter'd Arm, And universal Empire by thy own!

CHEKITAN.

Would you the Mohawk Emperor displease, And wage a b.l.o.o.d.y War, by which you made Him and his num'rous Tribes your certain Foes?

PONTEACH.

Most of his Tribes will welcome the Proposal; For long their galled Necks have felt the Yoke, Long wish'd for Freedom from his partial Sway, In favour of the proud incroaching Britons.

Nay, they have oft, in spite of his Displeasure, Rush'd forth like Wolves upon their naked Borders, And now, like Tygers broken from their Chains, they'll glut themselves, and revel in their Blood.

PHILIP.

Myself will undertake to make even Hendrick Our zealous Friend against the common Foe; His strong Attachment to them I'll dissolve, And make him rage, and thirst for Vengeance on them.

PONTEACH.

This would be doing Honour to thyself, And make thee worthy of thy Father's Crown.

The secret Means I will not now inquire, Nor doubt but thus engag'd you will perform.

The Chiefs in part are knowing to my Purpose, And think of nought but War, and Blood, and Plunder, Till in full Council we declare our Pleasure.

But first my last Night's Dream I will relate, Which much disturb'd my weary anxious Mind, And must portend some signal grand Event Of Good or Evil both to me or mine.

On yonder Plain I saw the lordly Elk Snuffing the empty Air in seeming Sport, Tossing his Head aloft, as if in Pride Of his great Bulk and nervous active Limbs, And Scorn of every Beast that haunts the Wood.

With mighty Stride he travelled to and fro, And as he mov'd his Size was still increas'd, Till his wide Branches reached above the Trees, And his extended Trunk across the Plain.

The other Beasts beheld with wild Amaze, Stood trembling round, nor dare they to approach Till the fierce Tyger yell'd the loud Alarm, When Bears, Cats, Wolves, Panthers, and Porcupines, And other Beasts of Prey, with Force united And savage Rage, attack'd the common Foe.

But as the busking Bull, when Summer Flies, With keenest Sting disturb the grazing Herd, Stands careless in some shady cool Retreat, And from his Sides sweeps the envenom'd Mites, Or shakes them with a Stamp into the Dust; So he unmov'd amidst their Clamours stood, Trampled and spurn'd them with his Hoofs and Horns, Till all dispers'd in wild Disorder fled, And left him Master of th' extended Plain.

TENESCO.

This Dream no doubt is full of some great Meaning, And in it bears the Fate of your Design, But whether good or ill, to me 's a Secret.

PHILIP.

It ne'er was counted ill to dream of Elks, But always thought portentous of Success, Of happy Life, and Victories in War, Or fortune good when we attempt the Chace.

CHEKITAN.

Such is the common Say; but here the Size And all the Circ.u.mstances are uncommon, And therefore can contain no common Meaning: I fear these Things portend no Good to us, That Mischiefs lurk like Serpents in the Gra.s.s, Whose pois'nous deadly Bite precedes all Warning.

That this Design will end in mighty Ruin To us and ours, Discord among our Friends, And Triumph to our Foes.

PHILIP.

A valiant Hero!

Thou always wast a Coward, and hated War, And lov'st to loll on the soft Lap of Peace.

Thou art a very Woman in thy Heart, And talk'st of Snakes and Bugbears in the Dark, Till all is Horror and Amaze about thee, And even thy own Shadow makes thee tremble.

CHEKITAN.

Is there no Courage in delib'rate Wisdom?

Is all rank Cowardice but Fire and Fury?

Is it all womanish to re-consider And weigh the Consequences of our Actions, Before we desperately rush upon them?

Let me then be the Coward, a mere Woman, Mine be the Praise of Coolness, yours of Rage.

PONTEACH.

Peace, Peace, my Sons, nor let this casual Strife divide your Hearts; both mean the common Good; Go Hand in Hand to conquer and promote it.

I'll to our worthy Doctor and the Priest, Who for our Souls' Salvation come from France; They sure can solve the Mysteries of Fate, And all the Secrets of a Dream explain; Mean while, Tenesco, warn the other Chiefs That they attend my Call within an Hour.

[_Exeunt PONTEACH and TENESCO._

PHILIP.

My Warmth perhaps has carried me too far, But it's not in me to be cool and backward To act or speak when Kingdoms are the Prize.

My Blood runs high at the sweet Sound of Empire, Such as our Father's Plan ensures to us, And I'm impatient of the least Delay.

CHEKITAN.

Thy Fire thou hast a Right to style a Virtue; Heat is our Friend when kept within due Bounds, But if unbridled and allowed to rage, It burns and blisters, torments and consumes, And, Torrent-like, sweeps every Comfort by.

Think if our Father's Plan should prove abortive, Our Troops repuls'd, or in th' Encounter slain, Where are our conquer'd Kingdoms then to share, Where are our Vict'ries, Trophies, Triumphs, Crowns, That dazzle in thy Eye, and swell thy Heart; That nerve thy Arm, and wing thy Feet to War With this impetuous Violence and Speed?

Crest-fallen then, our native Empire lost, In captive Chains we drag a wretched Life, Or fly inglorious from the conquering Foe To barren Mountains from this fertile Land, There to repent our Folly when too late, In Anguish mourn, and curse our wretched Fate.

PHILIP.

But why so much of Mischiefs that may happen?

These are mere Possibilities at most; Creatures of Thought, which ne'er can be Objections, In valiant Minds, to any great Attempt; They're empty Echoes of a tim'rous Soul, Like Bubbles driv'n by the tempestuous Storm, The Breath of Resolution sweeps them off.

Nor dost thou judge them solid from thy Heart, I know the secret Motive in thy Breast, Thus to oppose our Father's great Design, And from an Undertaking to dissuade, In which thou'lt share the Profit and the Glory.

Hendrick, the King of Mohawks, hath a Daughter, With whom I saw you dallying in the Shade, And thought you then a Captive to her Charms.

The bright Monelia hangs upon thy Heart, And softens all the Pa.s.sions of thy Soul; Her thou think'st lost should we proclaim a War, In which the King her Father will not join.

CHEKITAN.

What if I have a Value for Monelia, Is it a Crime? Does she not merit Love From all who see her move, or hear her speak?

PHILIP.

True, she is engaging, has a charming Air; And if thy Love is fix'd, I will a.s.sist it, And put thee in Possession of the Joy That thou desirest more than Crowns and Empire.

CHEKITAN.

As how, dear Philip? Should we wage a War, Which Hendrick disapproves, the Prize is lost.