Be train'd from childhood up. Make ye, mean
Your prayer to that Beloved One, who sees
The secrets of all hearts; and set ye up
This the memorial of his chosen Son,
And Her, who, blessed among women, fed
The Appointed at Her breast, and by His cross
Endured intenser anguish; therefore sharing
His glory now, with sunbeams robed, the Moon
Her footstool, and a wreath of stars her crown.
Hoamen, ye deem us children of a race Mightier than ye, and wiser, and by Heaven Beloved and favor'd more. From this pure law Hath all proceeded, — wisdom, power, whate’er Here elevates the soul, and makes it ripe For higher powers and more exalted bliss. Share then our law, and be with us, on earth, Partakers of these blessings, and in Heaven, Co-heritors with us of endless joy.
Ere yet one breath or motion had disturb'd The reverential hush, Erillyab rose. My people, said the Queen, their God is best And mightiest. Him to whom we offered up Blood of our blood and of our flesh the flesh, Vainly we deem'd divine; no spirit he Of good or evil, by the conquering arm Of Madoc mortal proved. What then remains But that the blessing proffer'd thus in love, In love we take? - Deliverer, Teacher, Friend, First in the fellowship of faith I claim The initiatory rite.
The venerable Priest Ayayaca,
Old as I am, I also, like a child,
Would learn this wisdom yet before I die.
The Elders rose and answer'd, We and all!
And from the congregated tribe burst forth
One universal shout,- Great is the God
Of Madoc,-worthy to be served is He!
Then to the mountain rivulet, which roll'd Like amber over its dark bed of rock, Did Madoc lead Erillyab, in the name Of JESUS, to his Christian family Accepted now. On her and on her son, The Elders and the People, Llorien Sprinkled the sanctifying waters. Day Was scarcely two hours old when he began His work, and when he ceased, the sun had past The heights of noon. Ye saw that blessed work, Sons of the Cymry, Cadog, Deiniol, Padarn, and Teilo! ye whose sainted names Your monumental temples still record; Thou, David, still revered, who in the vale, Where, by old Hatteril's wintry torrents swollen, Rude Hodney rolls his raging stream, didst choose Thy hermit home; and ye who by the sword Of the fierce Saxon, when the bloodier Monk Urged on the work of murder, for your faith And freedom fell,- Martyrs and Saints, ye saw This triumph of the Cymry and the Cross, And struck your golden harps to hymns of joy.
As now the rites were ended, Caradoc
Came from the ships, leading an Azteca
Guarded and bound. Prince Madoc, said the Bard,
Lo! the first captive of our arms I bring.
Alone, beside the river I had stray'd,
When, from his lurking-place, the savage hurl'd
A javelin. At the rustle of the reeds,
From whence the blow was aim'd, I turn'd in time,
And heard it whizz beside me.
Well it was,
That from the ships they saw and succor'd me;
For, subtle as a serpent in my grasp,
He seemed all joint and flexure; nor had I
Armor to ward, nor weapon to offend,
To battle all unused and unprepared;
But I, too, here upon this barbarous land,
Like Elmur and like Aronan of old,
Must lift the ruddy spear.
For vengeance, answered Madoc, else his deed
Had met no mercy. Freely let him go!
Perchance the tidings of our triumph here
May yet reclaim his country. - Azteca,
Go, let your Pabas know that we have crush'd
Their complots here; beneath our righteous sword
The Priest and his false Deity have fallen;
The idols are consumed, and, in their stead,
The emblems of our holy faith set up,
Whereof the Hoamen have this day been made
Partakers. Say to Aztlan, when she, too,
Will make her temples clean, and put away
Her foul abominations, and accept
The Christian Cross, that Madoc then accords
Forgiveness for the past, and peace to come.
This better part let her, of her free-will
And wisdom, choose in time.
The captive reckless of his peril stood,
Gazing with resolute and careless eye,
As one in whom the lot of life or death
Moved neither fear nor feeling; but that eye
Now sparkling with defiance, - Seek ye peace?
He cried: O weak and woman-hearted man!
Already wouldst thou lay the sword to rest?
Not with the burial of the sword this strife
Must end, for never doth the Tree of Peace
Strike root and flourish, till the strong man's hand
Upon his enemy's grave hath planted it.
Come ye to Aztlan then in quest of peace?
Ye feeble souls, if that be what ye seek,
Fly hence our Aztlan suffers on her soil
No living stranger.
Do thy bidding, Chief!
Calmly Cadwallon answered. To her choice
Let Aztlan look, lest what she now reject
In insolence of strength, she take upon her,
In sorrow, and in suffering, and in shame,
By strong compulsion, penitent too late.
Thou hast beheld our ships with gallant men
Freighted, a numerous force, and for our arms,
Surely thy nation hath acquired of them
Disastrous knowledge.
Curse upon your arms!
Exclaim'd the savage:- Is there one among you
Dare lay that cowardly advantage by,
And meet me, man to man, in honest strife?
That I might grapple with him, weaponless,
On yonder rock, breast against breast, fair force
Of limb, and breath, and blood, -till one, or both,
Dash'd down the shattering precipice, should feed
The mountain eagle!· - Give me, I beseech you,
That joy!
As wisely, said Cynetha's son,
Thy foe might challenge thee, and bid thee let
Thy strong right hand hang idle in the fray,
That so his weakness with thy strength might cope
In equal battle! - Not in wrongful war,
The tyrants of our weaker brethren,
Wield we these dreadful arms, — but when assail'd
By fraud and force, when call'd upon to aid
The feeble and oppressed, shall we not
Then put our terrors forth, and thunder-strike
The guilty?
Silently the Savage heard;
Joy brighten'd in his eyes, as they unloosed
His bonds; he stretched his arms at length, to feel
His liberty, and like a greyhound then
Slipp'd from the leash, he bounded o'er the hills.
What was from early morning till noon day
The steady travel of a well-girt man,
He with fleet feet and unfatiguable,
In three short hours hath traversed; in the lake
He plunged, now shooting forth his pointed arms,
Arrow-like darting on; recumbent now,
Forces with springing feet his easier way;
Then with new speed, as freshen'd by repose,
Again he breasts the water. On the shore
Of Aztlan now he stands, and breathes at will,
And wrings his dripping locks; then through the
gate
Green garlands deck the gate; Gay are the temples with green boughs affix'd; The door-posts and the lintels hung with wreaths; The fire of sacrifice, with flames bedimm'd, Burns in the sun-light, pale; the victims wait Around, impatient of their death delay'd. The Priest, before Tezcalipoca's shrine, Watches the maize-strown threshold, to announce The footsteps of the God; for this the day, When to his favor'd city he vouchsafes His annual presence, and, with unseen feet, Imprints the maize-strown threshold; follow'd soon By all whose altars with eternal fires Aztlan illumed, and fed with human blood; Mexitli, woman-born, who from the womb, Child of no mortal sire, leap'd terrible, The arm'd avenger of his mother's fame; And he whose will the subject winds obey, Quetzalcoal; and Tlaloc, Water-God, And all the host of Deities, whose power Requites with bounty Aztlan's pious zeal, Health and rich increase giving to her sons, And withering in the war her enemies.
Green-garlanded, the temples green with boughs,
The door-posts and the lintels hung with wreaths;
And yonder victims, ranged around the fire,
Are destin'd, with the steam of sacrifice,
To greet their dreadful coming.
Of warrior Chiefs Coanacotzin stood,
That when the Priest proclaim'd the enter'd God,
His lips before the present Deity
Might pour effectual prayer. The assembled Chiefs
Saw Tlalala approach, more welcome now,
As one whose absence from the appointed rites
Had waken'd fear and wonder. - Think not ye,
The youth exclaim'd, careless impiety
Could this day lead me wandering. I went forth
To dip my javelin in the Strangers' blood -
A sacrifice, methought, our Gods had loved
To scent, and sooner hasten'd to enjoy.
| I fail'd, and fell a prisoner; but their fear
Released me- coward fear, or childish hope,
That, like Yuhidthiton, I might become
Their friend, and merit chastisement from Heaven,
Pleading the Strangers' cause. They bade me go
And proffer peace. - Chiefs, were it possible
That tongue of mine could win you to that shame,
Out would I pluck the member, though my soul
Followed its bloody roots. The Stranger finds
No peace in Aztlan, but the peace of death!
"Tis bravely said! Yuhidthiton replied, And fairly mayst thou boast, young Tlalala, For thou art brave in battle. Yet 'twere well If that same fearless tongue were taught to check Its boyish license now. No law forbade Our friendship with the Stranger, when my voice Pleaded for proffered peace; that fault I shared In common with the King, and with the Chiefs, The Pabas, and the People, none foreseeing Danger or guilt; but when at length the Gods Made evident their wrath in prodigies, I yielded to their manifested will My prompt obedience. - Bravely hast thou said, And brave thou art, young Tiger of the War! But thou hast dealt with other enemies Than these impenetrable men, with foes, Whose conquered Gods lie idle in their chains, And with tame weakness brook captivity. When thou hast met the Strangers in the fight, And in the doings of that fight outdone Yuhidthiton, revile him then for one Slow to defend his country and his faith; Till then, with reverence, as beseems thy youth, Respect thou his full fame!
I wrong it not! wrong it not! cried the young Azteca ; But truly, as I hope to equal it,
Honor thy well-earn'd glory.—But this peace! Renounce it!-say that it shall never be ! — Never, as long as there are Gods in Heaven, Or men in Aztlan!
The Gods themselves have answer'd. Never yet
By holier ardor were our countrymen
Possess'd; peace-offerings of repentance fill
So taught the Priests; and therefore were the gates The temple courts; from every voice ascends
The contrite prayer; daily the victim's heart
Sends its propitiatory steam to Heaven;
And if the aid divine may be procured
By the most dread solemnities of faith,
And rigor of severest penitence,
Soon shall the present influence strengthen us,
And Aztlan be triumphant.
While they spake,
The ceaseless sound of song and instrument
Rung through the air, now rising like the voice
Of angry ocean, now subsiding soft,
As when the breeze of evening dies away.
Smoke on their altars; but they have beheld
My days of prayer, and nights of watchfulness,
And fasts austere, and bloody disciplines,
And have reveal'd their pleasure. Who is here,
Who to the White King's dwelling-place dare go,
And execute their will?
Scarce had he said,
When Tlalala exclaim'd, I am the man.
Hear then! Tezozomoc replied. - Ye know
That self-denial and long penance purge
The film and foulness of mortality,
The horn, and shrill-toned pipe, and drum, that For more immediate intercourse with Heaven
Its music to the hand, and hollow'd wood,
Drum-like, whose thunders, ever and anon,
Commingling with the sea-shell's spiral roar,
Closed the full harmony. And now the eve
Past on, and, through the twilight visible,
The frequent fire-flies' brightening beauties shone.
Anxious and often now the Priest inspects
The maize-strown threshold; for the wonted hour
Was come, and yet no footstep of the God!
More radiant now the fire of sacrifice,
Fed to full fury, blazed; and its red smoke
Imparted to the darker atmosphere
Such obscure light, as, o'er Vesuvio seen,
Or pillared upon Etna's mountain-head,
Makes darkness dreadful. In the captives' cheeks
Then might a livid paleness have been seen,
And wilder terror in their ghastly eyes,
Expecting momently the pang of death.
Soon in the multitude a doubt arose,
Which none durst mention, lest his neighbor's fears,
Divulged, should strengthen his; -the hour was
past,
Preparing the pure spirit; and all eyes
May witness that with no relaxing zeal
I have perform'd my duty. Much I fear'd
For Aztlan's sins, and oft, in bitterness,
Have groan'd and bled for her iniquity;
But chiefly for this solemn day the fear
Was strong upon me, lest her Deities,
Estranged, should turn away, and we be left
A spiritless and God-abandoned race,
A warning to the earth. Ten weary months
Have the raw maize and running water been
My only food; but not a grain of maize
Hath stay'd the gnawing appetite, nor drop
Of water cool'd my parch'd and painful tongue,
Since yester-morn arose. Fasting 1 pray'd,
And, praying, gash'd myself; and all night long,
I watch'd, and wept, and supplicated Heaven,
Till the weak flesh, its life-blood almost drain'd,
Sunk with the long austerity: a dread
Of death came over me; a deathy chill
Ran through my veins, and loosen'd every limb;
Dim grew mine eyes; and I could feel my heart,
Dying away within me, intermit
And yet no foot had mark'd the sprinkled maize! Its slow and feeble throbs, then suddenly
Now every moment gave their doubts new force,
And every wondering eye disclosed the fear
Which on the tongue was trembling, when to the
Emaciate like some bare anatomy,
[King,
And deadly pale, Tezozomoc was led,
Start, as it seem'd exerting all its force
In one last effort. On the ground I fell,
I know not if entranced, or dead indeed,
But without motion, hearing, sight, or sense,
Feeling, or breath, or life. From that strange state,
Even in such blessed freedom from all pain
That sure I thought myself in very Heaven,
I woke, and raised my eyelids, and beheld
A light which seemed to penetrate my bones
With life and health. Before me, visible,
Stood Coatlantona; a wreath of flowers
Circled her hair, and from their odorous leaves
By two supporting Priests. Ten painful months, Arose a lambent flame; not fitfully,
Immured amid the forest had he dwelt,
In abstinence and solitary prayer
Passing his nights and days: thus did the Gods
From their High Priest exact, when they enforced,
By danger or distress, the penance due
For public sins; and he had dwelt ten months,
Praying and fasting, and in solitude,
Till now might every bone of his lean limbs
Be told, and in his starved and bony face
The living eye appeared unnatural, —
A ghostly sight.
In breathless eagerness
The multitude drew round as he began,
O King, the Gods of Aztlan are not come ;
They will not come before the Strangers' blood
Nor with faint flash or spark of earthly flowers;
From these, forever flowing forth, there play'd,
In one perpetual dance of pointed light,
The azure radiance of innocuous fire.
She spake Hear, Aztlan! and give ear, O King!
She said. Not yet the offended Gods relax
Their anger; they require the Strangers' blood,
The foretaste of their banquet. Let their will
Be known to Aztlan, and the brave perform
Their bidding; I, meantime, will seek to soothe,
With all a mother's power, Mexitli's wrath.
So let the maidens daily with fresh flowers
Garland my temple! - Daily with fresh flowers
Garland her temple, Aztlan! and revere
The gentle mother of thy guardian God!
And let the brave, exclaim'd young Tlalala, Perform her bidding! Servant of the Gods, Declare their will! Is it, that I should seek The strangers, in the first who meets my way To plunge the holy weapon? Say thou to me, Do this!-and I depart to do the deed,
On a blue throne, with four huge silver snakes, As if the keepers of the sanctuary,
Circled, with stretching neck and fangs display'd,
Mexitli sat; another graven snake
Belted with scales of gold his monster bulk.
Around the neck a loathsome collar hung,
Though my life-blood should mingle with the foe's. Of human hearts; the face was mask'd with gold;
O brave young Chief! Tezozomoc replied, With better fortune may the grateful Gods Reward thy valor! deed so hazardous
His specular eyes seem'd fire; one hand uprear'd
A club; the other, as in battle, held
The shield; and over all suspended hung
The banner of the nation. They beheld
They ask not. Couldst thou from the mountain In awe, and knelt before the Terrible God.
Tempt one of these rash foemen to pursue
Thine artful flight, an ambush'd band might rise
Upon the unsuspcting enemy,
And intercept his way; then hitherward
The captive should be led, and Aztlan's Gods
On their own altars see the sacrifice,
Well pleased, and Aztlan's sons, inspirited,
Behold the omen of assured success.
Thou know'st that Tialoc's annual festival
Is close at hand. A stranger's child would prove
A victim, whose rare value would deserve
His certain favor. More I need not say.
Choose thou the force for ambush; and thyself
Alone, or with a chosen comrade, seek
The mountain dwellers.
Instant as he ceased,
Ocellopan began: I go with thee,
O Tlalala! My friend! — If one alone
Could have the honor of this enterprise,
My love might yield it thee;
Guardian of Aztlan! cried Tezozomoc, Who to thy mortal mother hast assign'd The kingdom o'er all trees, and arborets, And herbs, and flowers, giving her endless life, A Deity among the Deities;
While Coatlantona implores thy love
To thine own people, they in fear approach
Thy awful fane, who know no fear beside,
And offer up the worthiest sacrifice,
The blood of heroes!
He turn'd, and said, Now stretch your arms, and make
The offering to the God. They their bare arms
Stretched forth, and stabbed them with the aloe-
Then in a golden vase Tezozomoc
[point.
Received the mingled streams, and held it up
Toward the giant Idol, and exclaim'd,
Terrible God! Protector of our realm!
- but thou wilt need Receive thine incense! Let the steam of blood Ascend to thee, delightful! So mayst thou
A comrade. Tlalala, I go with thee!
Whom, the Chief answer'd, should my heart Still to thy chosen people lend thine aid;
Its tried companion else, but thee, so oft
My brother in the battle?
We will go,
Shedder of blood! together will we go,
Now, ere the midnight!
And these blaspheming strangers from the earth
Be swept away; as erst the monster race
Of Mammuth, Heaven's fierce ministers of wrath,
Who drain'd the lakes in thirst, and for their food
Exterminated nations. And as when,
Nay! the Priest replied, Their dreadful ministry of death fulfill'd,
Ipalnemoani, by whom we live,
A little while delay; and ere ye go,
Devote yourselves to Heaven! Feebly he spake,
Like one exhausted; gathering then new force,
As with laborious effort, he pursued, —
Bedew Mexitli's altar with your blood,
And go beneath his guidage. I have yet
Strength to officiate, and to bless your zeal.
So saying, to the Temple of the God He led the way. The warriors follow'd him; And with his chiefs, Coanocotzin went, To grace with all solemnity the rite. They pass the Wall of Serpents, and ascend The massive fabric; four times they surround Its ample square; the fifth, they reach the height. There, on the level top, two temple-towers Were rear'd; the one Tezcalipoca's fane, Supreme of Heaven, where now the wily Priest Stood, watchful for his presence, and observed The maize-strown threshold. His the other pile, By whose peculiar power and patronage Aztlan was blest, Mexitli, woman-born. Before the entrance, the eternal fire
Was burning; bare of foot they enter'd there.
Bade thee go forth, and with thy lightnings fill
The vault of Heaven, and with thy thunders rock
The rooted earth, till of the monster race
Only their monumental bones remain'd, -
So arm thy favor'd people with thy might,
Terrible God! and purify the land
From these blaspheming foes!
He said, and gave Ocellopan the vase. - Chiefs, ye have pour'd Your strength and courage to the Terrible God, Devoted to his service; take ye now
The beverage he hath hallow'd. In your youth
Ye have quaff'd manly blood, that manly thoughts
Might ripen in your hearts; so now with this,
Which mingling from such noble veins hath flowed,
Increase of valor drink, and added force.
Ocellopan received the bloody vase,
And drank, and gave in silence to his friend
The consecrated draught; then Tlalala
Drain'd off the offering. Braver blood than this
My lips can never taste! quoth he; but soon
Grant me, Mexitli, a more grateful cup,-
The Stranger's life!
Are all the rites perform'd? | The owls have ceased their night-song. On the top
Yea, all is done,
Of yon magnolia the loud turkey's voice
Ocellopan inquired.
Answer'd the Priest.
Of Aztlan be your guide!
Go! and the guardian God Is heralding the dawn; from tree to tree
They left the fane. Lo! as Tezozomoc was passing by The eternal fire, the eternal fire shot up A long blue flame. He started; he exclaim'd, The God! the God! Tezcalipoca's Priest Echoed the welcome cry, The God! the God! For lo! his footsteps mark the maize-strown floor. A mighty shout from all the multitudes Of Aztlan rose; they cast into the fire The victims, whose last shrieks of agony Mingled unheeded with the cries of joy. Then louder from the spiral sea-shell's depth Swell'd the full roar, and from the hollow wood Peal'd deeper thunders. Round the choral band, The circling nobles, gay with gorgeous plumes, And gems which sparkled to the midnight fire, Moved in the solemn dance; each in his hand, In measured movements lifts the feathery shield, And shakes a rattling ball to measured sounds. With quicker steps, the inferior chiefs without, Equal in number, but in just array, The spreading radii of the mystic wheel, Revolve; and, outermost, the youths roll round, In motions rapid as their quicken'd blood. So thus with song and harmony the night Past on in Aztlan, and all hearts rejoiced.
MEANTIME from Aztlan, on their enterprise,
Shedder of Blood and Tiger of the War,
Ocellopan and Tlalala set forth.
With chosen followers, through the silent night,
Silent they travell'd on.
After a way
Circuitous and far through lonely tracks,
They reach'd the mountains, and amid the shade
Of thickets covering the uncultured slope,
Their patient ambush placed. The chiefs alone
Held on, till, winding in ascent, they reach'd
The heights which o'er the Briton's mountain hold
Impended; there they stood, and by the moon,
Who yet, with undiminished lustre, hung
High in the dark blue firmament, from thence
Explored the steep descent. Precipitous
The rock beneath them lay, a sudden cliff,
Bare and unbroken; in its midway holes,
Where never hand could reach, nor eye intrude,
The eagle built her eyrie. Farther on,
Its interrupted crags and ancient woods
Offered a difficult way. From crag to crag,
By rocky shelf, by trunk, or root, or bough,
A painful toil and perilous, they past;
And now, stretch'd out amid the matted shrubs,
Which, at the entrance of the valley, clothed
The rugged bank, they crouch'd.
By this the stars
Grew dim; the glow-worm hath put out her lamp;
Extends the wakening watch-note, far and wide,
Till the whole woodlands echo with the cry.
Now breaks the morning; but as yet no foot
Hath mark'd the dews, nor sound of man is heard.
Then first Ocellopan beheld, where, near,
Beneath the shelter of a half-roof''d hut,
A sleeping stranger lay. He pointed him
To Tlalala. The Tiger look'd around:
None else was nigh.. Shall I descend, he said,
And strike him? Here is none to see the deed.
We offered to the Gods our mingled blood
Last night; and now, I deem it, they present
An offering which shall more propitiate them,
And omen sure success. I will go down
And kill!
He said, and, gliding like a snake, Where Caradoc lay sleeping, made his way. Sweetly slept he, and pleasant were his dreams Of Britain, and the blue-eyed maid he loved. The Azteca stood over him; he knew
His victim, and the power of vengeance gave
Malignant joy. Once hast thou 'scaped my arm:
But what shall save thee now? the Tiger thought,
Exulting; and he raised his spear to strike.
That instant, o'er the Briton's unseen harp
The gale of morning past, and swept its strings
Into so sweet a harmony, that sure
It seem'd no earthly tone. The savage man
Suspends his stroke; he looks astonish'd round;
No human hand is near: - and hark! again
The aerial music swells and dies away.
Then first the heart of Tlalala felt fear:
He thought that some protecting spirit watch'd
Beside the Stranger, and, abash'd, withdrew.
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Rejoin'd; they speak in darkness and in storms: The thunder is their voice, that peals through heaven,
Or, rolling underneath us, makes earth rock
In tempest, and destroys the sons of men.
It was no sound of theirs, Ocellopan!
No voice to hearten, for I felt it pass
Unmanning every limb; yea, it relax'd
The sinews of my soul. Shedder of Blood,
I cannot lift my hand against the man.
Go, if thy heart be stronger!
But meantime
Young Caradoc arose, of his escape
Unconscious; and by this the stirring sounds
Of day began, increasing now, as all
Now to their toil betake them. Some go fell
The stately tree; some from the trunk low-laid
|