Through the Eight Deserts; through the Eight Hills
And this be your defence against the Wind,
Whose fury sweeps like dust the uprooted rocks,
Whose keenness cuts the soul. Ye noble Dead,
Protected with these potent amulets,
Soon shall your Spirits reach triumphantly
The Palace of the Sun!
Moved to Mexitli's temple. First on high
The noble dead were borne; in loud lament
Then follow'd all by blood allied to them,
Or by affection's voluntary ties
Attach'd more closely, brethren, kinsmen, wives.
The Peers of Aztlan, all who from the sword
Of Britain had escaped, honouring the rites,
Came clad in rich array, and bore the arms
And ensigns of the dead. The slaves went last,
And dwarfs, the pastime of the living chiefs,
In life their sport and mockery, and in death
Their victims. Wailing and with funeral hymns,
The long procession moved. Mexitli's Priest,
With all his servants, from the temple-gate
Advanced to meet the train. Two piles were built
Within the sacred court, of odorous wood,
And rich with gums; on these, with all their robes,
Their ensigns and their arms, they laid the dead,
Then lit the pile. The rapid light ran up,
Up flamed the fire, and o'er the darken'd sky
Sweet clouds of incense curl'd.
Perform'd their bloody office. First they slew
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
Το 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
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