In these wreaths of smoke King James will never see!

"Of one thing be thou assured," said Newport, smiling--
"That King James will at your hands (through me) require
Full account of crowning of the Werowance,
Cost of every gift bestowed upon the chief,
Or upon that charming Princess Pocahontas,
Rumor couples with your name, Sir President!"

"Nay, Newport, a child in years, the bright-eyed maid,
Yet with heart of gold and mother wit
Working e'er to save our colony from ruin.
He who dares vile slander make or evil think
Is unworthy woman's love or England's trust."

"No offense was meant," the Captain quick replied,
"'Tis romantic tale, and still a nine days' wonder,
You, the noble victim of a murderous plot,
Maiden's fancy but the arbiter of fate."

"Idle Gossip hath her day," Smith slowly said--
"Let us plan to carry out the crowning farce,
May it serve to charm the haughty Powhatan,
As it pleases England's monarch for the time.
Yes, the scarlet robe will dazzle Indian chief,
An' it is your wish to make of him a clown.
'Tis a trifling matter that; more serious far
Charges given you by the London Company,
Who from distant lands know naught, in truth,
Of the frontier hardships, of the settler's needs.