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POWHATAN;

A   M E T R I C A L   R O M A N C E,


IN SEVEN CANTOS.


BY SEBA SMITH.


“He cometh to you with a tale, that holdeth children from play and old men fromthe chimney-corner.”—Sir Philip Sidney.


NEW-YORK:
HARPER & BROTHERS, CLIFF-STREET.
1841.{2}

Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1841, by
Harper & Brothers,
In the Clerk’s Office of the Southern District of New-York.

Stereotyped by
RICHARD C. VALENTINE,
45 Gold-street.{3}

TO THE
YOUNG PEOPLE OF THE UNITED STATES,

IN THE HOPE THAT HE MAY DO SOME GOOD IN HIS DAY AND GENERATION,

BY ADDING SOMETHING TO THE SOURCES OF RATIONAL

ENJOYMENT AND MENTAL CULTURE,


THIS VOLUME IS RESPECTFULLY INSCRIBED

BY THE AUTHOR.
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PREFACE.

“Poetry is a mere drug,” say the publishers; “bring us no more poetry,it won’t sell.”

“Poetry is a terrible bore,” say a majority of the dear public; “it istoo high-flown; we can’t understand it.”

To all this, we are tempted to reply in the language of doctor Abernethyto one of his patients. The good old lady, when the doctor entered theroom, raised her arm to her head, and drawing her face into a verypainful expression, exclaimed, “Oh, oh! O dear, Doctor, it almost killsme to lift my arm up so; what shall I do?”

“Well, madam,” said the doctor, gravely, “then you must be a very greatfool to lift your arm up so.”

Leaving the reader to make the application, we hasten to deny thepremises assumed by the publishers and a portion of the public. Whatthey say, is not true of poetry; it is in direct contradiction to theexperience of the world in all ages and all nations, for thousands ofyears. But it may be true, and is true, of endless masses of wordsthat are poured forth from the press under the name of poetry. But wedo not believe, that genuine poetry, that which is{6} worthy of the name,is either “a drug,” or “too high-flown” to be enjoyed and understood bythe mass of the reading public.