AZTLAN, meantime, presents a hideous scene Of slaughter. The hot sunbeam, in her streets, Parch'd the blood pools; the slain were heap'd in hills; The victors, stretch'd in every little shade, With unhelm'd heads, reclining on their shields, Slept the deep sleep of weariness. Ere long, To needful labour rising, from the gates They drag the dead; and with united toil, They dig upon the plain the general grave, The grave of thousands, deep and wide and long. Ten such they delved, and o'er the multitudes Who levell'd with the plain the deep-dug pits, Ten monumental hills they heap'd on high. Next horror heightening joy, they overthrew The skull-built towers, the files of human heads, And earth to earth consign'd them. To the flames They cast the idols, and upon the wind Scatter'd their ashes; then the temples fell,
Whose black and putrid walls were scaled with blood, And not one stone of those accursed piles
In Aztlan, it behoved the Cymry now
There to collect their strength, and there await,
Or thence with centered numbers urge, the war. For this was Ririd missioned to the ships, For this Lincoya from the hills invites
Erillyab and her tribe. There did not breathe, On this wide world, a happier man that day Than young Lincoya, when from their retreat He bade his countrymen come repossess The land of their forefathers; proud at heart To think how great a part himself had borne In their revenge, and that beloved one, The gentle saviour of the Prince, whom well He knew his own dear love, and for the deed Still dearer loved the dearest. Round the youth, Women and children, the infirm and old, Gather to hear his tale; and as they stood With eyes of steady wonder, outstretch'd necks, And open lips of listening eagerness,
Fast play'd the tide of triumph in his veins, Flush'd his brown cheek, and kindled his dark eye.
And now, reposing from his toil awhile, Lincoya, on a crag above the straits,
Sate underneath a tree, whose twinkling leaves Sung to the gale at noon. Ayayaca
Sate by him in the shade: the old man had loved The youth beside him from his boyhood up,
And still would call him boy. They sate and watch'd The laden bisons winding down the way, The multitude who now with joy forsook Their desolated dwellings; and their talk Was of the days of sorrow, when they groan'd Beneath the intolerable yoke, till sent
By the Great Spirit o'er the pathless deep, Prince Madoc the Deliverer came to save. As thus they communed, came a woman up, Seeking Lincoya; 't was Aculhua's slave, The nurse of Coatel. Her wretched eye, Her pale and livid countenance foretold Some tale of misery, and his life-blood ebb'd In ominous fear. But when he heard her words Of death, he seized the lance, and raised his arm To strike the blow of comfort.
Caught his uplifted hand... O'er-hasty boy, Quoth he, regain her yet, if she was dear! Seek thy beloved in the Land of Souls,
And beg her from the Gods. The Gods will hear, And in just recompense of love so true
Turned at his words a hesitating eye. I knew a prisoner,.. so the old man pursued, Or hoping to beguile the youth's despair With tales that suited the despair of youth, Or credulous himself of what he told,.. I knew a prisoner once who welcomed death With merriment and songs and joy of heart, Because, he said, the friends whom he loved best Were gone before him to the Land of Souls; Nor would they to resume their mortal state, Even when the Keeper of the Land allowed, Forsake its pleasures; therefore he rejoiced To die and join them there. I question'd him, How of these hidden things unknowable
So certainly he spake. The man replied, One of our nation lost the maid he loved, Nor would he bear his sorrow,.. being one Into whose heart fear never found a way, .. But to the Country of the Dead pursued Her spirit. Many toils he underwent, And many dangers gallantly surpass'd, Till to the Country of the Dead he came. Gently the Guardian of the Land received The living suppliant; listen'd to his prayer, And gave him back the Spirit of the Maid. But from that happy country, from the songs Of joyance, from the splendour-sparkling dance, Unwillingly compell'd, the Maiden's Soul Loathed to return; and he was warn'd to guard The subtle captive well and warily, Till in her mortal tenement relodged, Earthly delights might win her to remain A sojourner on earth. Such lessoning The Ruler of the Souls departed gave;
And mindful of his charge the adventurer brought His subtle captive home. There underneath The shelter of a hut, his friends had watch'd The Maiden's corpse, secured it from the sun, And fann'd away the insect swarms of heaven. A busy hand marr'd all the enterprize : Curious to see the Spirit, he unloosed The knotted bag which held her, and she fled. Lincoya, thou art brave; where man has gone Thou wouldst not fear to follow!
Lincoya listen'd, and with unmoved eyes;
At length he answered, Is the journey long? The old man replied, A way of many moons. I know a shorter path! exclaimed the youth; And up he sprung, and from the precipice Darted: a moment,.. and Ayayaca heard His body fall upon the rocks below.
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