Drag her to the altar!.. At that sound of death The life forsook her limbs, and down she fell, Senseless. They dragged her to the Stone of Blood, All senseless as she lay ;.. in that dread hour
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.
Exclaimed 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.
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
To me to see my only child condemned
In early widowhood to waste her youth, ..
My only and my beautifullest girl!
Chief of the Priests, you ordered; I obeyed.
Not mine the fault, if, when Lincoya fled,
And fought among the enemies, her heart
Was with her husband.
He is innocent!
He shall not die! Yuhidthiton exclaimed.
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
Vowed to the temple had expired, my love,
My selfish love, still suffered her to give
Her youth to me, by filial piety
In widowhood detained. 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 blade, and fell upon his child.
A TRANSITORY gloom that sight of death
Impressed upon the assembled multitude;
But soon the brute and unreflecting crew
Turned 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.
There other twain upon their shoulders prop
A forked beam, while on its height the 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 affixed,
Each holds a coloured cord, and, as they weave
The complex crossings of the mazy dance,
The checquered 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,
Branchless and barked, the trunk of some tall pine
Is planted; near its summit a square frame;
Four cords pass through the perforated square,
And fifty times and twice around the tree,
A mystic number, are entwined above.
Four Aztecas, equipped with wings, ascend,
And round them bind the ropes; anon they wave
Their pinions, and upborn on spreading plumes
Launch on the air, and wheel in circling flight,
The lengthened cords untwisting as they fly.
A fifth above, upon the perilous point
Dances, and shakes a flag; and on the frame,
Others the while maintain their giddy stand,
Till now, with many a round, the wheeling cords
Draw near their utmost length, and toward the ground
The aerial circlers speed; then down the ropes
They spring, and on their way from line to line
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