Answer'd the Priest. Go! and the guardian God Of Aztlan be your guide!

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-strewn 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.

XI.

THE CAPTURE.

MEANTIME from Aztlan, on their enterprize,
Shedder of Blood and Tyger 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; The owls have ceased their night-song. On the top Of yon magnolia the loud turkey's voice

Is heralding the dawn; from tree to tree
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 Tyger 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 Tyger 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 aërial 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.

A God protects him! to Ocellopan, Whispering, he said. Didst thou not hear the sound Which enter'd into me, and fix'd my arm

Powerless above him?

Was it not a voice

From thine own Gods to strengthen thee, replied His sterner comrade, and make evident

Their pleasure in the deed?

Nay ! Tlalala

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
Hew the huge boughs; here round the fire they char
The stake-points; here they level with a line
The ground-plot, and infix the ready piles,
Or, interknitting them with osiers, weave
The wicker wall; others along the lake,
From its shoal waters gather reeds and canes,
Light roofing, suited to the genial sky.

The woodman's measured stroke, the regular saw,
The wain slow-creaking, and the voice of man
Answering his fellow, or in single toil,
Cheering his labour with a cheerful song,
Strange concert made to those fierce Aztecas,
Who, beast-like, in their silent lurking place
Couch'd close and still, observant for their prey.

All overseeing, and directing all,

From place to place moved Madoc, and beheld
The dwellings rise. Young Hoel at his side
Ran on, best pleased when at his Uncle's side
Courting indulgent love. And now they came

Beside the half-roof'd hut of Caradoc;

Of all the mountain-dwellings that the last.
The little boy, in boyish wantonness,
Would quit his Uncle's hold, and haste away,
With childhood's frolic speed, then laugh aloud,
To tempt pursuit, now running to the huts,
Now toward the entrance of the valley straits.
But wheresoe'er he turned, Ocellopan

With hunter's-eye pursued his heedless course,