The women whom the slaughter'd most had loved,
Who most had loved the dead. Silent they went
Toward the fatal stone, resisting not,
Nor sorrowing, nor dismay'd, but, as it seem'd,
Stunn'd, senseless. One alone there was, whose cheek
Was flush'd, whose eye was animate with fire ;
Her most in life Coanocotzin prized,
By ten years' love endear'd, his counsellor,
His friend, the partner of his secret thoughts;
Such had she been, such merited to be.
She as she bared her bosom to the knife,
Call'd on Yuhidthiton... Take heed, O King!
Aloud she cried, and pointed to the Priests,
Beware these wicked men ! they to the war
Forced my dead Lord... Thou knowest, and I know,
He loved the Strangers; that his noble mind,
Enlighten'd by their lore, had willingly
Put down these cursed altars! . . As she spake,
They dragg'd her to the stone... Nay! nay! she cried,
There needs not force! I go to join my Lord!
His blood and mine be on you!.. Ere she ceased,
The knife was in her breast. Tezozomoc,
Trembling with rage, held up toward the Sun
Her reeking heart.
The dwarfs and slaves died last.
That bloody office done, they gathered up
The ashes of the dead, and coffer'd them
Apart; the teeth with them, which unconsumed
Among the ashes lay, a single lock
Shorn from the corpse, and his lip-emerald
Now held to be the Spirit's flawless heart,
In better worlds. The Priest then held on high
The little ark which shrined his last remains,
And call'd upon the people; . . Aztecas,
This was your King, the bountiful, the brave,
Coanocotzin! Men of Aztlan, hold
His memory holy! learn from him to love
Your country and your Gods; for them to live Like him, like him to die. So from yon Heaven, Where in the Spring of Light his Spirit bathes, Often shall he descend; hover above
On evening clouds, or plumed with rainbow wings,
Sip honey from the flowers, and warble joy.
Honour his memory! emulate his worth!
So saying, in the temple-tower he laid
The relics of the King.
The living claim their care. His birth, his deeds,
The general love, the general voice, have mark'd
Yuhidthiton for King. Bare-headed, bare
Of foot, of limb, scarfed only round the loins,
The Chieftain to Mexitli's temple moved,
And knelt before the God. Tezozomoc
King over Aztlan there anointed him,
And over him, from hallowed cedar-branch,
Sprinkled the holy water. Then the Priest
In a black garment robed him, figured white
With skulls and bones, a garb to emblem war,
Slaughter, and ruin, his imperial tasks.
Next in his hand the Priest a censer placed;
And while he knelt, directing to the God
The steaming incense, thus address'd the King
Chosen by the people, by the Gods approved,
Swear to protect thy subjects, to maintain
The worship of thy fathers, to observe
Their laws, to make the Sun pursue his course,
The clouds descend in rain, the rivers hold
Their wonted channels, and the fruits of earth
To ripen in their season; Swear, O King!
And prosper, as thou holdest good thine oath.
He raised his voice, and swore. Then on his brow
Tezozomoc the crown of Aztlan placed;
And in the robe of emblem'd royalty,
Preceded by the golden wands of state,
Yuhidthiton went forth, anointed King.
WHEN now the multitude beheld their King,
In gratulations of reiterate joy
They shout his name, and bid him lead them on
To vengeance. But to answer that appeal
Tezozomoc advanced... Oh! go not forth,
Cried the Chief Paba, till the land be purged
From her offence! No God will lead ye on,
While there is guilt in Atzlan. Let the Priests
Who from the ruined city have escaped,
And all who in her temples have perform'd
The ennobling service of her injured Gods,
Gather together now.
He spake; the train
Assembled, priests and matrons, youths and maids.
Servants of Heaven! aloud the Arch-Priest began,
The Gods had favour'd Aztlan; bound for death
The White King lay: our countrymen were strong
In battle, and the conquest had been ours,..
I speak not from myself, but as the Powers,
Whose voice on earth I am, impel the truth,.
The conquest had been ours; but treason lurk'd
In Aztlan, treason and foul sacrilege;
And therefore were her children in the hour
Of need abandon'd; therefore were her youth
Cut down, her altars therefore overthrown.
The White King, whom ye saw upon the Stone
Of Sacrifice, and whom ye held in bonds,
Stood in the foremost fight and slew your Lord,
Not by a God, O Aztecas, enlarged
Broke he his bondage! by a mortal hand,
An impious, sacrilegious, traitorous hand,
Your city was betray'd, your King was slain,
Your shrines polluted. The insulted Power,
He who is terrible, beheld the deed,
And now he calls for vengeance.
And from Mexitli's altar bade the Priest
Bring forth the sacred water. In his hand
He took the vase, and held it up, and cried,
Accurst be he who did this deed! Accurst
The father who begat him, and the breast
At which he fed ! Death be his portion now,
Eternal infamy his lot on earth,
His doom eternal horrors! Let his name,
From sire to son, be in the people's mouth,
Through every generation! Let a curse
Of deep and pious and effectual hate,
For ever follow the detested name;
And every curse inflict upon his soul
A stab of mortal anguish.
Drink one by one! the innocent
Boldly; on them the water hath no power;
But let the guilty tremble! it shall flow
A draught of agony and death to him,
A stream of fiery poison.
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