s Glass was touch'd by your great Saviour's Hand,
And after left in holy Peter's Care;
When I command, it brings down Fire from Heaven,
To witness for me that I tell no Lie.
[_The INDIANS gather round and gaze._
Behold--Great God, send Fire, convince these Indian Kings
That I'm thy Servant, and report the Truth,
[_In a very praying posture and solemn canting tone._
Am sent to teach them what they ought to do,
To kill and scalp, to torture and torment
Thy murderous treacherous Foes, the hateful English.
[_It takes fire; the INDIANS are amaz'd, and retreat from it._

PONTEACH.

Who now can doubt the Justice of our Cause,
Or this Man's Mission from the King above,
And that we ought to follow his Commands?

ASTINACO.

'Tis wonderful indeed--It must be so--

TENESCO.

This cannot be a Cheat--It is from Heaven--

ALL.

We are convinc'd and ready to obey;
We are impatient to revenge our King.

PONTEACH.

[_Takes up the bloody hatchet and flourishes it round._]

Thus do I raise the Hatchet from the Ground,
Sharpen'd and bright may it be stain'd with Blood,
And never dull'd nor rusted till we've conquer'd,
And taught proud Englishmen to dread its Edge.

ALL.

[_Flourishing their hatchets, and striking them upon a block._]

Thus will we hew and carve their mangled Bodies,
And give them to the Beasts and Birds for Food.

PONTEACH.

And thus our Names and Honours will maintain
While Sun and Moon, Rivers and Trees remain;
Our unborn Children shall rejoice to hear
How we their Fathers made the English fear.

THE WAR SONG.

_To the tune of "Over the Hills and far away," sung by TENESCO, the
head warrior. They all join in the Chorus, and dance, while that is
singing, in a circle round him; and during the Chorus the music
plays._

Where-e'r the Sun displays his Light,
Or Moon is seen to shine by Night,
Where-e'r the noisy Rivers flow
Or Trees and Grass and Herbage grow.--_Chorus._

Be 't known that we this War begin
With proud insulting Englishmen;
The Hatchet we have lifted high, [_Holding up their hatchets._
And them we'll conquer or we'll die.--_Chorus._

The Edge is keen, the Blade is bright,
Nothing saves them but their Flight;
And then like Heroes we'll pursue,
Over the Hills and Valleys through.--_Chorus._

They'll like frighted Women quake,
When they behold a h