The murderous point, an icy shudder ran
Through every fibre of her trembling frame;
And, overcome by womanly terror then,
The damsel to Goervyl turned, and let
Her breastplate fall, and on her bosom placed
The Lady's hand, and hid her face, and cried
Save me! The warrior, who beheld the act,
And heard not the low voice, with angry eye
Glowed on the seemly boy of feeble heart.
But, in Goervyl, joy had overpowered
The wonder; joy, to find the boy she loved
Was one, to whom her heart with closer love
Might cling; and to her brother she exclaimed,
She must not go! We women in the war
Have done our parts.
A moment Madoc dwelt
On the false Mervyn, with an eye from whence
Displeasure did not wholly pass away.
Nor loitering to resolve Love's riddle now,
To Malinal he turned, where, on his couch,
The wounded youth was laid... True friend, said he, And brother mine,.. for, truly, by that name
I trust to greet thee, if, in this near fight,
My hour should overtake me, . . as who knows
The lot of war?.. Goervyl hath my charge
To quite thee for thy service with herself;
That so thou mayëst raise up seed to me
Of mine own blood, who may inherit here
The obedience of thy people and of mine...
Malinal took his hand, and to his lips
Feebly he prest it, saying, One boon more,
Father and friend, I ask! .. if thou shouldst meet Yuhidthiton in battle, think of me.
MERCIFUL God! how horrible is night
Upon the plain of Aztlan! there the shout
Of battle, the barbarian yell, the bray
Of dissonant instruments, the clang of arms,
The shriek of agony, the groan of death,
In one wild uproar and continuous din,
Shake the still air; while, overhead, the Moon,
Regardless of the stir of this low world,
Holds on her heavenly way. Still unallayed
By slaughter raged the battle, unrelaxed
By lengthened toil; anger supplying still
Strength undiminished for the desperate strife.
And lo! where yonder, on the temple top,
Blazing aloft, the sacrificial fire
Scene more accurst and hideous than the war
Displays to all the vale; for whosoe'er
That night the Aztecas could bear away,
Hoaman or Briton, thither was he borne ;
And, as they stretched him on the stone of blood,
Did the huge tambour of the God, with voice
Loud as the thunder-peal, and heard as far,
Proclaim the act of death, more visible
Than in broad day-light, by those midnight fires
Distinctlier seen. Sight, that with horror filled
The Cymry, and to mightier efforts roused.
Howbeit, this abhorred idolatry
Worked for their safety; the deluded foes,
Obstinate in their faith, forbearing still
The mortal stroke, that they might to the God
Present the living victim, and to him
Glowed with the ruddy morning, when the Prince Came to the field. He lifted up his voice,
And shouted Madoc! Madoc! They who heard
The cry, astonished, turned; and when they saw
The countenance his open helm disclosed,
They echoed, Madoc! Madoc! Through the host
Spread the miraculous joy,.. He lives! he lives!
He comes himself in arms!.. Lincoya heard,
As he had raised his arm to strike a foe,
And stayed the stroke, and thrust him off, and cried,
Go, tell the tidings to thy countrymen,
Madoc is in the war! Tell them his God
Hath set the White King free! Astonishment
Seized on the Azteca; on all who heard,
Amazement and dismay; and Madoc now
Stood in the foremost battle, and his sword,..
His own good sword,.. flashed, like the sudden death
Of lightning in their eyes.
The King of Aztlan
Heard and beheld, and in his noble heart
Heroic hope arose. Forward he moved,
And, in the shock of battle, front to front,
Encountered Madoc. A strong-statured man
Coanocotzin stood, one well who knew
ways of war, and never yet in fight
Had found an equal foe. Adown his back
Hung the long robe of feathered royalty;
Gold fenced his arms and legs; upon his helm
A sculptured snake protends the arrowy tongue;
Around a coronet of plumes arose,
Brighter than beam the rainbow hues of light,
Or than the evening glories which the sun
Slants o'er the moving many-coloured sea,
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