Legends and Memories of St John's Chapel -
Addressed to R. A. Riddick
by Major John W. Moore 

Part XVII - published in the Windsor Ledger Oct 12, 1899

At Last he met his charmer
In the town of Edenton,
A fair belle of Williamsburg
On a visit there had gone,
He, one of the Royal Council
Would be there for  weeks to come
And the Virginia beauty
Like some flower in fullest bloom
So won upon him day by day
That both agreed longer to stay.

He told of his lonely lodge
Far from civil neighborhood,
And so long she pondered o'er
His asking her to intrude
Upon that lonely seat of love;
That he well nigh desperate,
Gave up the hope that she would come
And sought home, where till of late
His happy days had all been sweet
But heavy then in sad defeat.

But true love is hard to kill;
He resolved not yet to yield,
There is ever hope of triumph
To the knight who keeps the field;
So unto the Old Dominion
He went armed from spur to plume
And confronted the proud beauty
Soon he made her change her tune.
So Christmas Day saw bride and groom
Safely ensconsed in their sweet home.

I can't tell you neighbor, mine,
Of the festive scenes and joy
Old Christmas saw out-cropping,
Every man became a boy,
And women too went almost mad
In their wild festivities,
Showing how her new made neighbors
Wished the lovely bride to please;
Sir Toby Belch and Argue Cheek
Could not the record farily break.

Rarely in this world of our's
Have a couple like them made
Friends of every soul in reach,
Yea, of every tint and shade,
And by linking closer ever
Bonds of love and interest,
Found their lives the brighter growing,
And not yet content to rest
With the good already round them,
Ere old age and care had found them.

So with such sweetness ever
In their bearing, unto all;
The white people, like the Indians,
All were bound in silken thrall,
Highest honors with their blessings
Gave they unto such a friend,
While their fevid love and praises
To his wife had never end
For once in human thinking
A man was found from foeman free.

But their joys culminated
In a lovely family
God was pleased to allow them,
Already blest so bountifully;
And they watched their sons and daughters
As they grew in beauty there,
In the midst of savage neighbors
And wild beast in his lair,
Knowing He could well defend them,
And all who trust Him to the end.

For fifty years friend Robert,
There had been no troble seen
'Twixt the Indian and Whites,
And it still so would have been,
But one vicious Thomas Carey
Was by chance made Governor,
And from that day until his death
There was troble and uproar;
Nothing would do but he again
As Governor once more should reign.

He cared not for King or men
Deaf to mercy and the law
Only Carey's wealth and station
Valued he a single straw;
So when the king's appointee came
Carey had to yield his place
But he got in so much troble
And was sunk in such disgrace
He like some devil incarnated
With blood and war was only sated.

As fugitive from justice
He took refuge 'mongst the tribes
The Indian mind he poisoned
And incited them by bribes
To rise in bloody massacre
And his helpless country-men
To slay at sight like folded sheep
Bound in slumber's golden chain
And told them if they rose not then
The chance would never come again.

The Tuscaroras pondered
Very long and doubtingly
They and their buried fathers
Had been so honorably
Bound in a bond unbroken long
So 'twas hard to strike a blow
On friends like these so trustful e'er
And who oft with them would go
As allies in the tented field
On battle's front oft locking shield.

This Carey and his agents
Tried hard in old Bertie
To work his scheme of vengeance,
Which he found elsewhere easy;
But the Indian Chief had been too long
The dear friend of him who lay
In restful peace so closely by,
And where oft he spent the day;
Not only guest but honored friend
Whose sports with his would often blend.

He had taken too his name
And was also Thomas Blount,
Blood brothers in a covenant,
And should he all this surmount,
For he loved his lordly people
And their records of the past;
Bravest of the brave they had been,
Was it true that coming fast
Was the day when their proud station
Should come to utter desolation.

So said Carey and his crew
And they almost broke his heart,
Yet the stern old heathen king
Scorned to play such shameful part
All unmoved he was as of yore
But guarding night and day
And watching with his own true braves
Lest the foe should come that way
So stern and sorrowful he stood
To guard a friend he knew was good.

The oath that he had taken,
The dark secret well to keep
Kept him from plainly telling
What great danger on did sweep,
But his friend was warned in season
And such watch and ward he kept
That no foe would hope to heaven him
As he still in comfort slept;
The nights were wild with wind and snow
Yet sleepless all the watchers go.

It was a fearful trial
To the chief's untutored soul,
When his brothers came around
And their mission fully told,
Of the white man's vast agressions
On the land their fathers won
By long and bloody warfare
Whom they said would now disown
Their weak and craven children
Should they longer supine lie,
And see their last places taken
Without seeking once to try
What virtue yet was in their bows
Victorious so far o'er all foes.

Should the Great Spirit see them
Bowing down eternally,
Low before these new intruders
Upon men for ages free,
And so they wait in dumb submission
Till their last dear hunting grounds
Were all fenced in by the stranger,
And no room for them be found;
Why not then rise in freedom's might
And for themselves and country fight.

The Chieftain loved his people
And traditions of the past
He loved the great wide forest
And the rivers flowing fast
But he'd sworn by the great spirit
That came ever weal or woe
His blood-covernant should bind him.
And God willing should be so
Whatever other chiefs might do
He and his men would still be true.