“To this our wild domain we welcome thee
    In honorable hospitality. 
    If Thou dost come as the great Lord of Life,
    The Lord of bear and wolf, and stag and fox,
    Leopard and ape, and rabbits of the rocks,
    We are thy children, as our brothers are,—­
    The furry folk of forest fastnesses,
    The bright-winged birds that wanton with the breeze,
    The seal that sport amid the sapphire seas. 
    We worship gods of lightning and of thunder,
    Of winds and hissing waves, the rainbow’s wonder,
    The fruits and grains, borne by the kindly earth,
    And all the mysteries of death and birth. 
    Say who you are, and from what realm you hail,
    White spirits that in winged peraguas sail? 
    If ye be angels, tell us of your heaven. 
    If ye be men, tell us who is your King.”

It was not a long play, and had been written by a court poet especially for the children, of whose acting the Queen was fond.  There were dances and songs—­a sailor’s contra-dance to the music of a horn pipe, a stately passamezzo by the Indian court, a madrigal and an ode in compliment to the Queen.[3] Finally the leader of the white men planted the banner of England on the little knoll, and in the name of his sovereign received the homage of the Indians.  The last notes of the final chorus had just died away when trumpets called from the Thames, and the scene melted into chaos.  Off ran the players, cramming costumes and properties into their wallets as they went, to see the Queen land at the water-gate.  Amadas and Barlowe took the same direction less hurriedly.

“I wonder now,” said Armadas thoughtfully, “how much of prophecy there may have been in that mascarado?  Do you know, old lad, we may be taken for gods ourselves in two months’ time?  God grant they think us not devils before we are done!”

“We need have no fear if no Spaniards have landed on that coast before us,” said Barlowe stolidly.  “If they have—­no poetical speeches will help our cause.”

The Queen’s great gilded barge with its crimson hangings came sweeping up the river just as they joined the company drawn up to receive her.  The tall graceful figure of Ralegh was nearest her, and when she set her small neat foot upon the stone step it was his hand which she accepted to steady her in landing.  She was a sovereign every inch even in her traveling cloak, but when dinner was over, and she took her seat in the throne-room, she dazzled the eye with the splendor of gold and pearl network over brilliant velvets, the glitter of diamonds among the frost-work of Flanders lace.  Elizabeth knew how to stage the great Court drama as well as any Master of the Revels.