Laid open by the sword; for side by side
The brethren of Aberfraw mow'd their path;
And, following close, the Cymry drive along,
Till on the summit of the mound their cry
Of victory rings aloud. The temple floor,
So often which had reek'd with innocent blood,
Reeks now with righteous slaughter. Franticly,
In the wild fury of their desperate zeal,
The Priests crowd round the God, and with their knives
Hack at the foe, and call on him to save;.
At the altar, at the Idol's feet they fall.
Nor with less frenzy did the multitude
Flock to defend their God. Fast as they fell,
New victims rush'd upon the British sword;
And sure that day had rooted from the earth
The Aztecas, and on their conquerors drawn
Promiscuous ruin, had not Madoc now
Beheld from whence the fearless ardour sprang ;.
They saw Mexitli; momently they hoped
That he would rise in vengeance. Madoc seized
A massy club, and from his azure throne
Shattered the giant idol.
The men of Aztlan pause; so was their pause
Dreadful, as when a multitude expect
The Earthquake's second shock. But when they saw
Earth did not open, nor the temple fall
To crush their impious enemies, dismay'd,
They felt themselves forsaken by their Gods;
Then from their temples and their homes they fled, And, leaving Aztlan to the conqueror,
Sought the near city, whither they had sent
Their women, timely saved.
With growing fury as the danger grew,
Raged in the battle; but Yuhidthiton
Still with calm courage, till no hope remain'd,
Fronted the rushing foe. When all was vain,
When back within the gate Cadwallon's force
Resistless had compell'd them, then the Chief
Call'd on the Tyger,.. Let us bear from hence
The dead Ocellopan, the slaughter'd King;
Not to the Strangers should their bones be left,
O Tlalala!.. The Tyger wept with rage,
With generous anger. To the place of death,
Where, side by side, the noble dead were stretch'd,
They fought their way. Eight warriors join'd their
shields;
On these, a bier which well beseem'd the dead,
The lifeless Chiefs were laid. Yuhidthiton
Call'd on the people,.. Men of Aztlan! yet
One effort more! Bear hence Ocellopan,
Bear hence the body of your noble King!
Not to the Strangers should their bones be left!
That whoso heard, with wailing and loud cries,
Prest round the body-bearers; few indeed,
For few were they who in that fearful hour
Had ears to hear, . . but with a holy zeal,
Careless of death, around the bier they ranged
Their bulwark breasts. So toward the farther gate
They held their steady way, while outermost
In unabated valour, Tlalala
Faced, with Yuhidthiton, the foe's pursuit.
Vain valour then, and fatal piety,
As the fierce conquerors bore on their retreat,
If Madoc had not seen their perilous strife:
Remembering Malinal, and in his heart
Honouring a gallant foe, he call'd aloud,
And bade his people cease the hot pursuit.
So, through the city gate, they bore away
The dead; and, last of all their countrymen,
Leaving their homes and temples to the foe,
Yuhidthiton and Tlalala retired.
SOUTHWARD of Aztlan stood beside the Lake,
A city of the Aztecas, by name
Patamba. Thither, from the first alarm,
The women and infirm old men were sent,
And children: thither they who from the fight,
And from the fall of Aztlan, had escaped,
In scattered bands repair'd. Their City lost,
*Their Monarch slain, their Idols overthrown,
These tidings spread dismay; but to dismay
Succeeded horror soon, and kindling rage,
Horror, by each new circumstance increased,
By numbers, rage embolden'd. Lo! to the town,
Lamenting loud, a numerous train approach,
Like mountain torrents, swelling as they go.
Borne in the midst, upon the bier of shields,
The noble dead were seen. To tenfold grief
That spectacle provoked, to tenfold wrath
That anguish stung them. With their yells and groans
Curses are mix'd, and threats, and bitter vows
Of vengeance full and speedy. From the wreck
Of Aztlan who is saved?
Chief servant of the Gods, their favoured Priest The voice by whom they speak; young Tlalala, Whom even defeat with fresher glory crowns; And full of fame, their country's rock of strength,
Yuhidthiton him to their sovereign slain
Allied in blood, mature in wisdom him,
Of valour unsurpassable, by all
Beloved and honour'd, him the general voice
Acclaims their King; him they demand, to lead
Their gathered force to battle, to revenge
Their Lord, their Gods, their kinsmen, to redeem Their altars and their country.
But the dead
First from the nation's gratitude require
The rites of death. On mats of mountain palm,
Wrought of rare texture and of richest hues,
The slaughter'd warriors, side by side, were laid;
Their bodies wrapt in many-colour'd robes
Of gossampine, bedeck'd with gems and gold.
The livid paleness of the countenance,
A mask conceal'd, and hid their ghastly wounds.
The Pabas stood around, and one by one,
Placed in their hands the sacred aloe leaves,
With mystic forms and characters inscribed;
And as each leaf was given, Tezozomoc
Address'd the dead,.. So may ye safely pass
Between the mountains, which in endless war
Hurtle, with horrible uproar and frush
Of rocks that meet in battle. Arm'd with this,
In safety shall ye walk along the road,
Where the Great Serpent from his lurid eyes
Shoots lightening, and across the guarded way
Vibrates his tongue of fire. Receive the third,
And cross the waters where the Crocodile
In vain expects his prey. Your passport this
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