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.
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.
Tezozomoc then cried, 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 h;
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.
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