Have prospered for thy sake; and now when first The Powers of Evil do begin to work,
Lo! thou art here!-Brother, we have obeyed Thy will, and the Beloved Teacher's words Have been our law; but now the Evil Ones Cry out for blood, and say they are athirst,
And threaten vengeance. I have brought the Priest, To whom they spake in darkness;-thou art wise, And the Great Spirit will enlighten thee;- We know not what to answer.-Tell thy tale, Neolin!
Hereat did Madoc fix upon him
A searching eye; but he, no whit abashed, Began with firm effrontery his speech. The Feast of the departed is at hand, And I, in preparation, on the Field
Of the Spirit 4 past the night. It came to me In darkness, after midnight, when the moon Was gone, and all the stars were blotted out; It gathered round me, with a noise of storms, And entered into me, and I could feel
It was the Snake-God rolled and writhed within; And I, too, with the inward agony,
Rolled like a snake and writhed. Give! give! he cried: I thirst!-His voice was in me, and it burnt Like fire, and all my flesh and bones were shaken; Till, with a throe which seemed to rend my joints Asunder, he past forth, and I was left Speechless and motionless, gasping for breath.
Then Madoc, turning to Ayayaca,
Inquired, who is the man ?-The good old Priest Replied, he hath attended from his youth The Snake-God's temple, and received for him All offerings, and performed all sacrifice, Till the Beloved Teacher made us leave The wicked way.
Hear me quoth Neolin, With antic gesture and loud vehemence; Before this generation, and before These ancient forests,-yea, before yon lake Was hollowed out, or one snow-feather fell On yonder mountain-top, now never bare,— Before these things I was, 5-where, or from whence, I know not,-who can tell? But then I was, And in the shadow of the Spirit stood; And I beheld the Spirit, and in him Saw all things, even as they were to be; And I held commune with him, not of words, But thought with thought. Then was it given me That I should chuse my station when my hour Of mortal birth was come,-hunter, or chief, Or to be mightiest in the work of war,
Or in the shadow of the Spirit live, And he in me. According to my choice, For ever overshadowed by his power,
I walk among mankind. At times I feel not The burden of his presence; then am I Like other men; but when the season comes, Or if I seek the visitation, then He fills me, and my soul is carried on, And then do I forelive the race of men, So that the things that will be, are to me Past.
Amalahta lifted then his eyes
A moment. It is true, he cried; we know
Thou hast slept heretofore upon the Field, Said Madoc; didst thou never witness voice, Or ominous sound! Ayayaca replied, Certes the Field is holy! it receives, All the year long, the operative power Which falleth from the sky, or from below Pervades the earth; no harvest groweth there, Nor tree, nor bush, nor herb is left to spring. But there the virtue of the elements
Is gathered, till the circle of the months
Be full; then, when the Priest, by mystic rites, Long vigils and long abstinence prepared, Goeth there to pass the appointed night alone, The whole collected influence enters him. Doubt not but I have felt strange impulses On that mysterious Field, and in my dreams Been visited; and have heard sounds in the air, I knew not what;-but words articulate Never till now. It was the Wicked One! He wanted blood.
Who says the Wicked One? It was our Fathers' God! cried Neolin. Son of the Ocean, why should we forsake The worship of our fathers ?6 Ye obey The White-Man's Maker; but to us was given A different skin and speech and land and law. The Snake-God understands the Red-Man's prayer, And knows his wants and loves him. Shame be to us, That since the Stranger here set foot among us, We have let his lips be dry!
Enough! replied Madoc, who at Cadwallon's look represt His answering anger. We will hold a talk Of this hereafter. Be ye sure, mean time, That the Great Sprit will from Evil Powers Protect his people. This, too, be ye sure, That every deed of darkness shall be brought To light,-and woe be to the lying lips!
Soon as the coming of the fleet was known, Had Queen Erillyab sent her hunters forth. They from the forest now arrive, with store Of venison; fires are built before the tents, Where Llaian and Goervyl for their guests Prepare the feast; and now the ready board With grateful odour steams. But while they sate
At meat, did Amalahta many a time Lift his slow eye askance, and eagerly Gaze on Goervyl's beauty; for whate'er In man he might have thought deformed or strange Seemed beautiful in her,-her golden curls, Bright eyes of heavenly blue, and that clear skin,7 Blooming with health and youth and happiness. He, lightly yielding to the impulse, bent His head aside, and to Erillyab spake. Mother, said he, tell them to give to me That woman for my wife, that we may be Brethren and friends. She, in the same low tone Rebuked him, in her heart too well aware How far unworthy he. Abashed thereby, As he not yet had wholly shaken off Habitual reverence, he sate sullenly, Brooding in silence his imagined wiles, By sight of beauty made more apt for ill; For he himself being evil, good in him Worked evil.
And now Madoc, pouring forth The ripe metheglin, to Erillyab gave The horn of silver brim. Taste, Queen and friend, Said he, what from our father-land we bring, The old beloved beverage. Sparingly Drink, for it hath a strength to stir the brain, And trouble reason, if intemperate lips Abuse its potency. She took the horn,
And sipt with wary wisdom-Canst thou teach us The art of this rare beverage? quoth the Queen; Or is the gift reserved for ye alone,
By the Great Spirit, who hath favoured ye In all things above us?-The Chief replied, All that we know of useful and of good Ye also shall be taught, that we may be One people. While he spake, Erillyab passed The horn to Amalahta. Sparingly! Madoc exclaimed; but when the savage felt The luscious flavour, and the poignant life, He heeded nought beyond the immediate joy. Deep did he drink, and still with clinching hands Struggled, when from his lips unsatisfied, Erillyab plucked the cup with sharp reproof, Chiding his stubborn wilfulness. Ere long
The generous liquor flushed him he could feel His blood play faster, and the joyful dance Of animal life within him. Bolder grown, He at Goervyl lifts no longer now The secret glance, but gloats with greedy eye; Till, at the long and loathsome look abashed, She rose, and nearer to her brother drew, On light pretence of speech, being half in fear. But he, regardless of Erillyab now, To Madoc cried aloud, Thou art a King, And I a King!-Give me thy sister there To be my wife, and then we will be friends, And reign together.
Let me answer him, Madoc! Cadwallon cried, I better know Their language, and will set aside all hope, Yet not incense the savage-A great thing, Prince Amalahta, hast thou asked! said he, Nor is it in Lord Madoc's power to give Or to withhold; for marriage is with us The holiest ordinance of God, whereon The bliss or bale of human life depends.
Love must be won by love, and heart to heart Linked in mysterious sympathy, before We pledge the marriage-vow; and some there are, Who hold, that, e'er we enter into life, Soul hath with soul been mated, each for each Especially ordained. Prince Madoc's will Avails not, therefore, where this secret bond Hath not been framed in heaven.
Which, with wild faith and reason, thus confirmed, Yet tempered the denial, for a while
Silenced him, and he sate in moody dreams
Of snares and violence. Soon a drunken thirst, And longing for the luscious beverage,
Drove those dark thoughts aside. More drink! quoth he.
Give me the drink!-Madoc again repeats His warning, and again with look and voice Erillyab chides; but he of all restraint Impatient, cries aloud, Am I a child? Give! give! or I will take!-Perchance I and my God alike cry out in vain! But ye shall find us true!
Give him the horn! Cadwallon answered; there will come upon him Folly and sleep, and then an after pain, Which may bring wisdom with it, if he learn Therefrom to heed our warning.-As thou sayest, No child art thou!-the choice is in thy hand;- Drink, if thou wilt, and suffer, and in pain Remember us.
He clenched the horn, and swilled The sweet intoxication copious down.
So bad grew worse. The potent draught provoked Fierce pride and savage insolence. Aye! now
It seems that I have taught ye who I am! The inebriate wretch exclaimed. This land is mine, Not hers; the kingdom and the power are mine! I am the master!
Hath it made thee mad? Erillyab cried.-Ask thou the Snake-God that! Quoth he; ask Neolin and Aztlan that!
Hear me, thou Son of the Waters! wilt thou have me For friend or foe ?-Give me that woman there, And store me with this blessed beverage, And thou shalt dwell in my domains,--or else,
Blood, blood! the Snake-God calls for blood; the Gods
Of Aztlan and the people call for blood; They call on me, and I will give them blood, Till they have had their fill.
Meanwhile the Queen, In wonder and amazement heard and grief; Watching the fiendish workings of his face, And turning to the Prince at times, as if She looked to him for comfort. Give him drink, To be at peace! quoth Madoc. The good mead Did its good office soon; his dizzy eyes Rolled with a sleepy swim; the joyous thrill Died away; and as every limb relaxed, Down sunk his heavy head and down he fell. Then said the Prince, We must rejoice in this, O Queen and friend, that, evil though it be, Evil is brought to light; he hath divulged, In this mad mood, what else had been concealed By guilty cunning. Set a watch upon him
And on Priest Neolin; they plot against us; Your fall and mine alike do they conspire, Being leagued with Aztlan to destroy us both. Thy son will not remember that his lips Have let the treason pass. Be wary, then, And we shall catch the crafty in the pit Which they have dug for us.
Erillyab cast A look of anger, made intense by grief, On Amalabta-Cursed be the hour Wherein I gave thee birth! she cried; that pain Was light to what thy base and brutal nature Bath sent into my soul-But take thou heed! I have borne many a woe and many a loss,- My father's realm, the husband of my youth, My hope in thee!-all motherly love is gone,- Sufferance well nigh worn out.
When she had ceased, Still the deep feeling filled her, and her eye Dwelt on him, still in thought. Brother! she cried, As Madoc would have soothed her, doubt not me! Mine is no feeble heart. Abundantly
Did the Great Spirit overpay all woes,
And this the heaviest, when he sent thee here, The friend and the deliverer. Evil tongues May scatter lies; bad spirits and bad men May league against thy life; but go thou on, Brother! He loves thee and will be thy shield.
THIS is the day, when, in a foreign grave, King Owen's relics shall be laid to rest. No bright emblazonries bedecked his bier, No tapers blazed, no prelate sung the mass, No choristers the funeral dirge intoned, No mitred abbots, and no tonsured train, Lengthened the pomp of ceremonious woe. His decent bier was with white linen spread And canopied; two elks and bisous yoked, Drew on the car; foremost Cadwallon bore The Crucifix, with single voice, distinct, The good priest Llorien chaunted loud and deep The solemn service; Madoc next the bier Followed his father's corpse; bareheaded then Came all the people, silently and slow.
The burial-place was in a grassy plat, A little level field of sunny green, Between the river and a rocky bank, Which, like a buttress, from, the precipice Of naked rock sloped out. On either side
T was skirted by the woodlands. A stone cross Stood on Cynetha's grave, sole monument. Beneath a single cocoa, whose straight trunk Rose like an obelisk, and waved on high Its palmy plumage, green and never sere. Here by Cynetha's side, with Christian prayers, All wrongs forgotten now, was Owen laid. Rest, King of Gwyneth, in a foreign grave! From foul Indignity of Romish pride And bigot priesthood, from a falling land
Ambassadors from Aztlan in the vale Awaited their return;-Yuhidthiton, Chief of the Chiefs, and Helhua the priest: With these came Malinal. They met the Prince, And with a sullen stateliness returned His salutation, then the Chief began; Lord of the Strangers, hear me ! by my voice The People and the Pabas and the King
Of Aztlan speak. Our injured Gods have claimed Their wonted worship, and made manifest Their wrath; we dare not impiously provoke The Dreadful! Worship ye in your own way; But we must keep the path our fathers kept.
We parted, O Yuhidthiton! as friends
And brethren, said the Christian Prince;-alas, That this should be our meeting! When we pledged, In the broad daylight and the eye of Heaven, Our hands in peace, ye heard the will of God, And felt and understood. This calm assent Ye would belie, by midnight miracles Scared, and such signs of darkness as beseem The demons whom ye dread! or likelier Duped by the craft of those accursed men, Whose trade is blood. Ask thou of thine own heart, Yuhidthiton.-
But Helhua broke his speech;
Our bidding is to tell thee, quoth the Priest, That Aztlan hath restored, and will maintain, Her ancient faith. If it offendeth thee, Move thou thy dwelling place!
This day have I deposited in earth
My father's bones, and where his bones are laid, There mine shall moulder.
Malinal at that Advanced ;-Prince Madoc, said the youth, I come, True to thy faith and thee, and to the weal Of Aztlan true, and bearing, for that truth, Reproach and shame and scorn and obloquy. In sorrow come I here, a banished man; Here take, in sorrow, my abiding-place, Cut off from all my kin, from all old ties Divorced; all dear familiar countenances No longer to be present to my sight; The very mother-language which I learnt, A lisping baby on my mother's knees,
No more with its sweet sounds to comfort me. So be it!-To his brother then he turned; Yuhidthiton, said he, when thou shalt find,- As find thou wilt,-that those accursed men Have played the juggler with thee, and deceived Thine honest heart,-when Aztlan groans in blood,- Bid her remember then, that Malinal
Is in the dwellings of her enemy.:
Where all his hope in banishment hath been To intercede for her, and heal her wounds, And mitigate her righteous punishment.
Sternly and sullenly his brother heard; Yet hearkened he as one whose heart perforce Supprest its instinct, and there might be seen A sorrow in his silent stubbornness. And now his ministers on either hand
Thus timely snatched; and from the impending yoke,- A water-vessel fill, and heap dry sedge
Rest in the kingdom of thy noble son!
And straw before his face, and fire the pile.
And out he poured it on the flaming pile.
The skull of some old seer14 of days of old Topped it, and with a visor this was masked, Honouring the oracular Spirit, who at times There took his resting-place. Ayayaca Repeated, Brethren, is it well with ye? And raised the visor. But he started back, be Appalled and shuddering; for a moony light Lay in its eyeless sockets, and there came From its immoveable and bony jaws
The steam-cloud, hissing from the extinguished heap, Spread like a mist, and, ere it melted off, Homeward the heralds of the war had turned.
The Festival of the Dead.9
THE Hoamen in their Council-hall1o are met To hold the Feast of Souls: seat above seat, Ranged round the circling theatre they sit. No light but from the central fire, whose smoke, Slow passing through the over aperture, Excludes the day, and fills the conic roof, And hangs above them like a cloud. Around, The ghastly bodies of their chiefs are hung, Shrivelled and parched, by heat; the humbler dead Lie on the floor,-white bones, exposed to view, On deer, or elk-skin laid, or softer fur,
Or web, the work of many a mournful hour; The loathlier forms of fresh mortality Swathed, and in decent tenderness concealed. Beside each body pious gifts are laid, Mantle and belt and feathery coronal,
The bow he used in war, his drinking-shell,
His arrows for the chase, the sarbacan,11
A long deep groan, thrice uttered, and thrice felt In every heart of all the hearers round. The good old Priest stood tottering, like a man Stricken with palsy; and he gazed with eyes Of asking horror round, as if he looked For counsel in that fear. But Neolin Sprung boldly to the oracle, and cried, Speak, Spirit! tell us of our sin, and teach The atonement! A sepulchral voice replied, Ye have for other Gods forsaken us, And we abandon you!—and crash with that, The Image fell.
A loud and hideous shriek, As of a demon, Neolin set up; So wild a yell, as, even in that hour, Came with fresh terror to the startled ear. While yet they sate, pale and irresolute, Helhua the Azteca came in. He bore A shield and arrow, tokens these of war, Yet now behield with hope, so great relief They felt his human presence.
Hoamen, hear me! The messenger began; Erillyab hear, Priests, Elders, People! but hear chiefly thou Prince Amalalta, as of these by birth, So now of years mature, the rightful Lord!- Shall it be peace or war?-Thus Aztlan saith;
Through whose long tube the slender shaft, breath- She, in her anger, from the land will root
Might pierce the winged game. Husbands and wives, Parents and children, there in death they lie; The widowed and the parent and the child Look on in silence. Not a sound is heard But of the crackling brand, or mouldering fire, Or when, amid yon pendant string of shells,12 The slow wind wakes a shrill and feeble sound,- A sound of sorrow to the mind attuned By sights of woe.
Came forward.-Spirits, is it well with ye? Is it well, Brethren? said the aged Priest; Have ye received your mourning, and the rites Of righteous grief? or round your dwelling-place Still do your shadows roam dissatisfied, And to the cries of wailing woe return
A voice of lamentation?'3 Teach us now,
If we in aught have failed, that I, your Priest, When I shall join ye soon, as soon I must, May unimpeded pass the perilous floods, And, in the Country of the Dead, be hailed By you, with song and dance and grateful joy. So saying, to the Oracle he turned, Awaiting there the silence which implied Peaceful assent. Against the eastern wall, Fronting the narrow portal's winding way, An Image stood: a cloak of fur disguised The rude proportion of its uncouth limbs;
The Children of the Sea; but viewing you In mercy, to your former vassalage Invites ye, and remits the tribute lives, And for rebellion claimeth no revenge. Oh praise your Gods! cried Neolin, and hail This day spring of new hope! Aztlan remits The tribute lives,—what more could Madoc give? She claimeth no revenge, and, if she claimed, He could not save. O Hoamen, bless your Gods; Appease them! Thou, Prince Amalahta, speak, And seize the mercy.
In act of speech; but then Erillyab rose
Who gives thee, Boy, this Elder's privilege? The Queen exclaimed;—and thou, Priest Neoliv, Curb thou thy traitorous tongue! The reign is mine; I hold it from my father, he from his; Age before age, beyond the memory
Of man it hath been thus. My father fell In battle for his people, and his sons Fell by his side; they perished, but their names Are with the names we love,-their happy souls Pursue, in fields of bliss, the shadowy deer;15 The spirit of that noble blood which ran From their death-wounds, is in the ruddy clouds Which go before the Sun, when he comes forth In glory. 16 Last of that illustrious race Was I, Erillyab. Ye remember well, Elders, that day when I assembled here
The people, and demanded at their choice The worthiest, to perpetuate our old line
Of Kings and Warriors.-To the wind he spread His black and blood-red banner. Even now
I hear his war-drum's tripled sound, that called The youth to battle; even now behold The hope which lit his dark and fiery eye, And kindled with a sunnier glow his cheek, As he from yonder war-pole, in his pride, Took the death-doers down.-Lo here the bones Of King Tepollomi!-my husband's bones!— There should be some among ye who beheld, When, all with arrows quilled, and clothed with blood, As with a purple garment, he sustained The unequal conflict, till the Aztecas
Took him at vantage, and their monarch's club Let loose his struggling soul. Look, Hoamen, here, See through how wide a wound his spirit fled! Twenty long years of mournful widowhood Have past away; so long have I maintained The little empire left us, loving well My people, and by them as well beloved. Say, Hoamen, am I still your Queen?
At once The whole assembly rose with one acclaim,- Still, O Erillyab, O Beloved, rule
But the Gods! Cried Amalahta,-but the Oracle! The Oracle! quoth she; what hath it said That forty years of suffering hath not taught This wretched people?-They abandon us?— So let them go! Where were they at that hour, When, like a blasting night-wind in the spring, The multitudes of Aztlan came upon us? Where were they when my father went to war? Where were they when my father's stiffened corpse, Even after death a slave, held up the lamp
To light his conqueror's revels?—Think not, Boy, To palter with me thus! a fire may tremble Within the sockets of a skull, and groans May issue from a dead mean's fleshless jaws, And images may fall, and yet no God
Be there!—if it had walked abroad with life, That had indeed been something!
Her voice toward the people.-Ye have heard This Priest of Aztlan, whose insidious tongue desert the Children of the Sea,
Bids ve And vow again your former vassalage. Speaks Aztlan of the former? O my people, I too could tell ye of the former days, '7 When yonder plain was ours, with all its woods And waters and savannahs!—of those days, Wien, following where her husband's stronger arm Пad opened the light glebe, the willing wife Dropt in the yellow maize; ere long to bear Its increase to the general store, and toss Her flowing tresses in the dance of joy. And I could tell ye how these summer stores Were hoarded for the invader's winter feasts; And how the widows elipt those flowing locks To strew them,-not upon their husband's graves,-- Their husbands had no graves!--but on the rocks And mountains in their flight. And even these rocks And mountains could not save us! year by year
Our babes, like firstlings of the flock, were culled To be the banquet of these Aztecas!
This very wretch, who tells us of the past,
Hath chosen them for the butchery.—Oh, I thank you For this brave anger!-in your name I take The war-gift!
Gods of Aztlan, Helhua cried, As to Erillyab's ready hand he gave The deadly token, in your name I give The war-gift! Ye have thirsted over long; Take now your fill of blood!—He turned away; And Queen Erillyab bade the tribe fulfil Their customary rites.
Bore its own dead, and to the general grave, With melancholy song and sob of woe, The slow procession moves. The general grave Was delved within a deep and shady dell, Fronting a cavern in the rock,-the scene Of many a bloody rite, ere Madoc came,— A temple, as they deemed, by Nature made, Where the Snake-Idol18 stood. On fur and cloth Of woven grass, they lay their burthens down, Within the ample pit; their offerings range Beside, and piously a portion take
Of that cold earth, to which for ever now Consigned, they leave their fathers, dust to dust;19 Sad relic that, and wise remembrancer.
But as with bark and resinous boughs they pile The sepulchre, suddenly Neolin
Sprung up aloft, and shrieked, as one who treads Upon a viper in his heedless path.
The God! the very God! he cried, and howled One long, shrill, piercing, modulated cry; Whereat from that dark temple issued forth A Serpent, huge and hideous. On he came, Straight to the sound, and curled around the Priest His mighty folds innocuous, overtopping
His human height, and, arching down his head, Sought in the hands of Neolin for food; Then questing, reared and stretched and waved his neck, And glanced his forky tongue. Who then had seen The man, with what triumphant fearlessness, Arms, thighs, and neck, and body, wreathed and ringed In those tremendous folds, he stood secure,
Played with the reptile's jaws, and called for food, Food for the present God!-who then had seen The fiendish joy which fired his countenance, Might well have weened that he had summoned up The dreadful monster from its native Hell, By devilish power, himself a fiend infleshed. Blood for the God! he cried, Lincoya's blood! Friend of the Serpent's foe!-Lincoya's blood!
| Cried Amalahta, and the people turned Their eyes to seek the victim, as if each Sought his own safety in that sacrifice. Alone Erillyab raised her voice, confused But not confounded; she alone exclaimed, Madoc shall answer this! unheard her voice By the bewildered people, by the Priest Unheeded; and Lincoya sure had fallen The victim of their fear, had he been found In that wild hour; but when his watchful eye Beheld the monster from his den come forth, He fled to bear the tidings.-Neolin Repeats the accursed call, Food for the God!
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