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.
The vase... 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.
What were thy horrors when the fatal vase Past to thy trial, . . when Tezozomoc
Fixed his keen eye on thee! A deathiness
Came over her,.. her blood ran back, . . her joints Shook like the palsy, and the dreadful cup Dropt from her conscious hold. The Priest exclaim'd, The hand of God! the avenger manifest! Drag her to the altar!.. At that sound of death The life forsook her limbs, and down she fell, Senseless. They dragg'd her to the Stone of Blood, All senseless as she lay; in that dread hour Nature was kind.
Bring forth the kindred of this wretch accurst, That none pollute the earth! An aged Priest Came forth and answered, There is none but I, The father of the dead.
Exclaim'd Tezozomoc; to death with him;
And purify the nation!.. But the King Permitted not that crime... Chief of the Priests, If he be guilty, let the guilty bleed,
Said he; but never, while I live and reign,
The innocent shall suffer. Hear him speak!
Hear me! the old man replied. That fatal day I never saw my child. At morn she left
The city, seeking flowers to dress the shrine Of Coatlantona; and that at eve
I stood among the Pabas in the gate, Blessing our soldiers, as they issued out,
Let them who saw bear witness... Two came forth, And testified Aculhua spake the words
Full well I know, the old man pursued, My daughter loved the Strangers,.. that her heart Was not with Aztlan; but not I the cause!
Ye all remember how the Maid was given, . . She being, in truth, of all our Maids the flower, . . In spousals to Lincoya, him who fled
From sacrifice. It was a misery
For me to see my only child condemn'd In early widowhood to waste her youth, . My only and my beautifullest girl!
Chief of the Priests, you order'd; I obeyed. Not mine the fault, if when Lincoya fled, And fought among the enemies, her heart Was with her husband.
He shall not die! Yuhidthiton exclaim'd. Nay, King Yuhidthiton! Aculhua cried, I merit death. My country overthrown, My daughter slain, alike demand on me That justice. When her years of ministry Vow'd to the temple had expired, my love, My selfish love, still suffer'd her to give Her youth to me, by filial piety
In widowhood detain'd. That selfish crime Heavily,.. heavily, . . do I expiate! But I am old; and she was all to me. O King Yuhidthiton, I ask for death; In mercy, let me die! cruel it were To bid me waste away alone in age,
By the slow pain of grief... Give me the knife Which pierced my daughter's bosom !
Moved to the altar; none opposed his way; With a firm hand he buried in his heart The reeking flint, and fell upon his child.
A TRANSITORY gloom that sight of death Impress'd upon the assembled multitude; But soon the brute and unreflecting crew Turn'd to their sports. Some bare their olive limbs, And in the race contend; with hopes and fears Which rouse to rage, some urge the mimic war. Here one upon his ample shoulders bears A comrade's weight, upon whose head a third Stands poised, like Mercury in act to fly. Two others balance here on their shoulders A bifork'd beam, while on its height a third To nimble cadence shifts his glancing feet, And shakes a plume aloft, and wheels around A wreath of bells with modulating sway. Here round a lofty mast the dancers move Quick, to quick music; from its top affix'd, Each holds a coloured cord, and as they weave The complex crossings of the mazy dance, The checquer'd network twists around the tree Its intertexture of harmonious hues.
But now a shout went forth, the Flyers mount, And from all meaner sports the multitude Flock to their favourite pastime. In the ground,
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