Complete Poetical Works of Robert Southey

by Robert Southey

  With reverential awe accosted us;

  For we, he ween’d, were children of a race

  Mightier than they, and wiser, and by heaven

  Belov’d and favour’d more: he came to give

  Fit welcome; and he led us to the Queen.

  The fate of war had reft her of her realm;

  Yet with affection, and habitual awe,

  And old remembrances, which gave their love

  A deeper and religious character,

  Fallen as she was, and humbled as they were,

  Her faithful people still, in all they could,

  Obey’d Erillyab. She, too, in her mind

  Those recollections cherish’d, and such thoughts

  As, though no hope temper’d their bitterness,

  Gave to her eye a spirit, and a strength

  And pride to features which perchance had borne,

  Had they been fashion’d by a happier fate,

  Meaning more gentle and more womanly,

  Yet not more worthy of esteem and love.

  She sate upon the threshold of her hut;

  For in the palace where her sires had reign’d

  The conqueror dwelt. Her son was at her side,

  A boy now near to manhood; by the door,

  Bare of its bark, the head and branches shorn,

  Stood a young tree, with many a weapon hung,

  Her husband’s war pole, and his monument.

  There had his quiver moulder’d, his stone-axe

  Had there grown green with moss, his bow-string there

  Sung as it cut the wind.

  She welcom’d us

  With a proud sorrow in her mien; fresh fruits

  Were spread before us, and her gestures said

  That, when he liv’d whose hand was wont to wield

  Those weapons,.. that in better days,.. that ere

  She let the tresses of her widowhood

  Grow wild, she could have given to guests like us,

  A worthier welcome. Soon a man approach’d,

  Hooded with sable, his half-naked limbs

  Smear’d black; the people, at his sight, drew round,

  The women wail’d and wept; the children turn’d,

  And hid their faces on their mothers knees.

  He to the Queen addressed his speech, then look’d

  Around the children, and laid hands on two,

  Of different sexes, but of age alike,

  Some six years each; they at his touch shriek’d out;

  But then Lincoya rose, and to my feet

  Led them, and told me that the conquerors claim’d

  These innocents, for tribute; that the Priest

  Would lay them on the altar of his god,

  Pluck out their little hearts in sacrifice,

  Yea, with more cursed wickedness, himself

  Feast on their flesh!.. I shudder’d, and my hand

  Instinctively unsheath’d the holy sword.

  He with most passionate and eloquent signs,

  Eye-speaking earnestness, and quivering lips,

  Besought me to preserve himself; and those

  Who now fell suppliant round me,.. youths and maids,

  Grey-headed men, and mothers with their babes.

  I caught the little victims up; I kiss’d

  Their innocent cheeks; I rais’d my eyes to heaven,

  I call’d upon Almighty God, to hear

  And bless the vow I made: in our own tongue

  Was that sworn promise of protection pledg’d..

  Impetuous feeling made no pause for thought.

  Heaven heard the vow; the suppliant multitude

  Saw what was stirring in my breast; the Priest,

  With eye inflam’d and rapid answer, rais’d

  His menacing hand; the tone, the bitter smile,

  Interpreting his threat.

  Meanwhile, the Queen,

  With watchful eye and steady countenance,

  Had listened: now she rose, and to the Priest

  Address’d her speech. Low was her voice, and calm,

  As one who spake with effort to subdue

  Sorrow that struggled still; but, while she spake,

  Her features kindled to more majesty,

  Her eye became more animate, her voice

  Rose to the height of feeling. On her son

  She call’d, and from her husband’s monument

  His battle-axe she took; and I could see,

  That, when she gave the boy his father’s arms,

  She call’d his father’s spirit to look on,

  And bless them to his vengeance.

  Silently

  The tribe stood listening as Erillyab spake;

  The very priest was aw’d: once he essay’d

  To answer; his tongue fail’d him, and his lip

  Grew pale and fell. He to his countrymen

  Of rage and shame and wonder full, return’d,

  Bearing no victims for their shrines accurst,

  But tidings that the Hoamen had cast off

  Their vassalage, rous’d to desperate revolt

  By men, in hue and speech and garment strange,

  Who, in their folly, dar’d defy the power

  Of Aztlan.

  When the King of Aztlan heard

  The unlook’d-for tale, ere yet he rous’d his strength,

  Or pitying our rash valour, or belike

  Curious to see the man so bravely rash,

  He sent to bid me to his court. Surpris’d,

  I should have given to him no credulous faith,

  But fearlessly Erillyab bade me trust

  Her honourable foe. Unarm’d I went,

  Lincoya with me to exchange our speech,

  So as he could, of safety first assur’d;

  For to their devilish idols he had been

  A victim doom’d, and, from the bloody rites

  Flying, been carried captive far away.

  From early morning, till the midnoon hour,

  We travelled in the mountains; then a plain

  Open’d below, and rose upon the sight,

  Like boundless ocean from a hill-top seen.

  A beautiful and populous plain it was;

  Fair woods were there, and fertilizing streams,

  And pastures spreading wide, and villages

  In fruitful groves embower’d, and stately towns,

  And many a single dwelling specking it,

  As though for many a year, the land had been

  The land of peace. Below us, where the base

  Of the great mountains to the level slop’d,

  A broad, blue lake extended far and wide

  Its waters, dark beneath the light of noon.

  There Aztlan stood upon the farther shore;

  Amid the shade of trees its dwellings rose,

  Their level roofs with turrets set around,

  And battlements all burnish’d white, which shone

  Like silver in the sun-shine. I beheld

  The imperial city, her far-circling walls,

  Her garden groves, and stately palaces,

  Her temples mountain size, her thousand roofs;

  And, when I saw her might and majesty,

  My mind misgave me then.

  We reached the shore:

  A floating islet waited for me there,

  The beautiful work of man. I set my feet

  Upon green-growing herbs and flowers, and sate

  Embowered in odorous shrubs: four long light boats

  Yok’d to the garden, with accordant song,

  And dip and dash of oar in harmony,

  Bore me across the lake.

  Then in a car

  Aloft by human bearers was I borne;

  And through the city-gate, and through long lines

  Of marshalled multitudes who throng’d the way,

  We reach’d the palace court. Four priests were there;

  Each held a burning censer in his hand
,

  And strew’d the precious gum as I drew nigh,

  And held the streaming fragrance forth to me,

  As I had been a god. They led me in,

  Where, on his throne, the royal Azteca

  Coanocotzin, sate. Stranger, said he,

  Welcome! and be this coming to thy weal!

  A desperate warfare doth thy courage court;

  But thou shalt see the people, and the power

  Whom thy deluded zeal would call to arms;

  So may the knowledge make thee timely wise.

  The valiant love the valiant. Come with me!

  So saying, he rose; we went together forth

  To the Great Temple. ’Twas a huge, square hill,

  Or, rather, like a rock it seem’d, hewn out

  And squar’d by patient labor. Never yet

  Did our forefathers, o’er beloved chief

  Fallen in his glory, heap a monument

  Of that prodigious bulk, though every shield

  Was laden for his grave, and every hand

  Toiled unremitting, at the willing work,

  From morn till eve, all the long summer day.

  The ascent was lengthened, with provoking art,

  By steps which led but to a wearying path

  Round the whole structure; then another flight,

  Another road around, and thus a third,

  And yet a fourth, before we reach’d the height.

  Lo, now, Coanocotzin cried, thou seest

  The cities of this widely peopled plain;

  And wert thou on yon farthest temple-top,

  Yet as far onward wouldst thou see the land

  Well husbanded like this, and full of men.

  They tell me that two floating palaces

  Brought thee and all thy people;.. when I sound

  The Tambour of the God, ten Cities hear

  Its voice, and answer to the call, in arms.

  In truth, I felt my weakness; and the view

  Had waken’d no unreasonable fear,

  But that a nearer sight had stirr’d my blood;

  For, on the summit where we stood, four Towers

  Were piled with human skulls, and all around

  Long files of human heads were strung, to parch

  And whiten in the sun. What then I felt

  Was more than natural courage;.. ’twas a trust

  In more than mortal strength,.. a faith in God,..

  Yea, inspiration from him. I exclaim’d,

  Not though ten Cities ten times told obey’d

  The king of Aztlan’s bidding, should I fear

  The power of man!

  Art thou, then, more than man?

  He answered; and I saw his tawny cheek

  Lose its life-color as the fear arose;

  Nor did I undeceive him from that fear,

  For sooth I knew not how to answer him,

  And therefore let it work. So not a word

  Spake he, till we again had reach’d the court;

  And I, too, went in silent thoughtfulness:

  But then when, save Lincoya, there was none,

  To hear our speech, again did he renew

  The query,.. Stranger! art thou more than man,

  That thou shouldst set the power of man at nought?

  Then I replied, Two floating Palaces

  Bore me and all my people o’er the seas.

  When we departed from our mother land,

  The Moon was newly born; we saw her wax

  And wane, and witnessed her new birth again;

  And all that while, alike by day and night,

  We travelled through the sea, and caught the winds,

  And made them bear us forward. We must meet

  In battle, if the Hoamen are not freed

  From your accursed tribute,.. thou and I,

  My people and thy countless multitudes.

  Your arrows shall fall from us as the hail

  Leaps on a rock,.. and, when ye smite with swords,

  Not blood, but fire, shall follow from the stroke.

  Yet think not thou that we are more than men!

  Our knowledge is our power, and God our strength,

  God, whose almighty will created thee,

  And me, and all that hath the breath of life.

  He is our strength;.. for in his name I speak;..

  And when I tell thee that thou shalt not shed

  The life of man in bloody sacrifice,

  It is His holy bidding which I speak;

  And if thou wilt not listen and obey,

  When I shall meet thee in the battle field,

  It is his holy cause for which I fight,

  And I shall have his power to conquer thee!

  And thinkest thou our Gods are feeble? cried

  The King of Aztlan; dost thou they lack

  Power to defend their altars, and to keep

  The kingdom which they gave us strength to win?

  The Gods of thirty nations have oppos’d

  Their irresistible might, and they lie now

  Conquer’d and caged and fetter’d at their feet.

  That they who serve them are no coward race,

  Let prove the ample realm we won in arms;..

  And I, their leader, am not of the sons

  Of the feeble! As he spake, he reach’d a mace,

  The trunk and knotted root of some young tree,

  Such as old Albion, and his monster brood,

  From the oak forest for their weapons pluck’d

  When Father Brute and Corineus set foot

  On the White Island first. Lo this, quoth he,

  My club! and he threw back his robe; and this

  The arm that wields it!.. ’twas my father’s once:

  Erillyab’s husband, King Tepollomi,

  He felt its weight... did I not show thee him?

  He lights me at my evening banquet. There

  In very deed, the dead Tepollomi

  Stood up against the wall, by devilish art

  Preserv’d; and from his black and shrivell’d hand

  The steady lamp hung down.

  My spirit rose

  At that abomination. I exclaim’d,

  Thou art of noble nature, and full fain

  Would I in friendship plight my hand with thine;

  But till that body in the grave be laid,

  Till thy polluted altars be made pure,

  There is no peace between us. May my God,

  Who, though thou know’st him not, is also thine,

  And after death will be thy dreadful Judge,

  May it please him to visit thee, and shed

  His mercy on thy soul!... But, if thy heart

  Be hardened to the proof, come when thou wilt!

  I know thy power, and thou shalt then know mine.’

  VII.

  Now, then, to meet the war! Erillyab’s call

  Roused all her people to revenue their wrongs;

  And, at Lincoya’s voice, the mountain tribes

  Arose and broke their bondage. I, meantime,

  Took counsel with Cadwallon and his sire,

  And told them of the numbers we must meet,

  And what advantage from the mountain straits

  I thought, as in the Saxon wars, to win.

  Thou saw’st their weapons, then, Cadwallon said;

  Are they like these rude works of ignorance,

  Bone-headed shafts, and spears of wood, and shields

  Strong only for such strife?

  We had to cope

  With wiser enemies, and abler arm’d.

  What for the sword they wielded was a staff

  Set thick with stones across; you would have judged

  The uncouth shape was cumbrous; but a hand

  Expert, and practis’d to its use, could drive

  The heavy edge with deadly impulse down.

  Their mail, if mail it may be call’d, was woven

  Of vegetable down, lik
e finest flax,

  Bleached to the whiteness of the new-fallen snow;

  To every bend and motion flexible,

  Light as a warrior’s summer-garb in peace;

  Yet in that lightest, softest, habergeon,

  Harmless the sharp stone arrow-head would hang.

  Others, of higher office, were array’d

  In feathery breast-plates of more gorgeous hue

  Than the gay plumage of the mountain-cock,

  Or the pheasant’s glittering pride. But what were these,

  Or what the thin gold hauberk, when oppos’d

  To arms like ours in battle? What the mail

  Of wood fire-hardened, or the wooden helm,

  Against the iron arrows of the South,

  Against our northern spears, or battle-axe,

  Or good sword, wielded by a British hand?

  Then, quoth Cadwallon, at the wooden helm,

  Of these weak arms the weakest, let the sword

  Hew, and the spear be thrust. The mountaineers,

  So long inured to crouch beneath their yoke,

  We will not trust in battle; from the heights

  They with their arrows may annoy the foe;

  And, when our closer strife has won the fray,

  Then let them loose for havoc.

  O my son!

  Exclaimed the blind old man, thou counsellest ill!

  Blood will have blood, revenge beget revenge,

  Evil must come of evil. We shall win,

  Certes, a cheap and easy victory

  In the first field; their arrows from our arms

  Will fall, and on the hauberk and the helm

  The flint-edge blunt and break; while thro’ their limbs,

  Naked or vainly fenced, the griding steel

  Shall shear its mortal way. But what are we

  Against a nation? Other hosts will rise

  In endless warfare, with perpetual fights

  Dwindling our all-too-few; or multitudes

  Will wear and weary us, till we sink subdued

  By the very toil of conquest. Ye are strong;

  But he who puts his trust in mortal strength,

  Leans on a broken reed! First prove your power;

  Be in the battle terrible, but spare

  The fallen, and follow not the flying foe;

  Then may ye win a nobler victory,

  So dealing with the captives as to fill

  Their hearts with wonder, gratitude, and awe,

  That love shall mingle with their fear, and fear