Feeling, or breath, or life. From that strange state,
Even in such blessed freedom from all pain
That sure I thought myself in very Heaven,
I woke, and raised my eyelids, and beheld
A light which seemed to penetrate my bones
With life and health. Before me, visible,
Stood Coatlantona; a wreath of flowers
Circled her hair, and from their odorous leaves
Arose a lambent flame; not fitfully,
Nor with faint flash or spark of earthly flowers:
From these, for ever flowing forth, there play’d,
In one perpetual dance of pointed light,
The azure radiance of innocuous fire.
She spake: — Hear, Aztlan! and give ear, O King!
She said, Not yet the offended Gods relax
Their anger; they require the Strangers’ blood
The foretaste of their banquet. Let their will
Be known to Aztlan, and the brave perform
Their bidding: I, meantime, will seek to soothe,
With all a mother’s power, Mexitli’s wrath.
So let the maidens daily with fresh flowers
Garland my temple! — Daily with fresh flowers
Garland her temple, Aztlan! and revere
The gentle mother of thy guardian God!
And let the brave, exclaimed young Tlalala;
Perform her bidding! Servant of the Gods,
Declare their will — Is it that I should seek
The Strangers, in the first who meets my way
To plunge the holy weapon? Say thou to me,
Do this; — and I depart to do the deed,
Though my life-blood should mingle with the foe’s.
O brave young Chief! Tezozomoc replied;
With better fortune may the grateful Gods
Reward thy valour! deed so hazardous
They ask not. Couldst thou from the mountain holds
Tempt one of these accursed to pursue
Thine artful flight, an ambush’d band might rise
Upon the unsuspecting enemy,
And intercept return; then hitherward
The captive should be led, and Aztlan’s Gods
On their own altars see the sacrifice,
Well pleas’d, and Aztlan’s sons, inspirited,
Behold the omen of assured success.
Thou know’st that Tlaloc’s annual festival
Is close at hand. A Stranger’s child would prove
A victim, whose rare value would deserve
His certain favour. More I need not say.
Chuse thou the force for ambush; and thyself
Alone, or with a chosen comrade, seek
The mountain dwellers.
Instant as he ceas’d,
Ocelopan exclaim’d, I go with thee,
O Tlalala! my friend! — If one alone
Could have the honor of this enterprize,
My love might yield it thee; — but thou wilt need
A comrade. — Tlalala, I go with thee!
The Chief replied,Whom should my heart select,
Its tried companion else, but thee, so oft
My brother in the battle? We will go,
Shedder of blood! together will we go,
Now, ere the midnight!
Nay, the Priest replied,
A little while delay; and, ere ye go,
Devote yourselves to Heaven! Feebly he spake,
Like one exhausted; gathering then new force,
As with laborious effort, he pursued, —
Bedew Mexitli’s altar with your blood,
And go beneath his guidage. I have yet
Strength to officiate, and to bless your zeal.
So saying, to the Temple of the God
He led the way. The warriors followed him;
And, with his chiefs, Coanocotzin went,
To grace with all solemnity the rite.
They pass the Wall of Serpents, and ascend
The massive fabric; four times they surround
Its ample square; the fifth, they reach the height.
There, on the level top, two temple-towers
Were rear’d: the one, Tezealipoca’s fane,
Supreme of Heaven, where now the wily Priest
Stood, watchful for his. presence, and observ’d
The maize-strewn threshold. His the other pile,
By whose peculiar power and patronage
Aztlan was blest, Mexitli, woman-born.
Before the entrance, the eternal fire
Was burning; bare of foot they enter’d there.
On a blue throne, with four huge silver snakes,
As if the keepers of the sanctuary,
Circled, with stretching neck, and fangs display’d,
Mexitli sate; another graven snake
Belted with scales of gold his monster bulk.
Around the neck a loathsome collar hung,
Of human hearts; the face was mask’d with gold;
His specular eyes seem’d fire; one hand uprear’d
A club; the other, as in battle, held
The shield; and over all, suspended, hung
The banner of the nation. They beheld
In awe, and knelt before the Terrible God.
Guardian of Aztlan! cried Tezozomoc,
Who to thy mortal mother hast assign’d
The kingdom o’er all trees and arborets
And herbs and flowers, giving her endless life,
A Deity among the Deities;
While Coatlantona implores thy love
To thine own people, they in fear approach
Thy awful fane, who know no fear beside,
And offer up the worthiest sacrifice,
The blood of heroes!
To the ready Chiefs
He turn’d, and said, Now stretch your arms, and make
The offering to the God. They their bare arms
Stretch’d forth, and stabb’d them with the aloe-point.
Then, in a golden vase, Tezozomoc
Received the mingled streams, and held it up
Toward the giant Idol, and exclaim’d,
Terrible God! Protector of our realm!
Receive thine incense! Let the steam of blood
Ascend to thee, delightful! So mayst thou
Still to thy chosen people lend thine aid;
And these blaspheming strangers from the earth
Be swept away, as erst the monster race
Of Mammuth, Heaven’s fierce ministers of wrath,
Who drain’d the lakes in thirst, and for their food
Exterminated nations. And as when,
Their dreadful ministry of death fulfill’d,
Ipalnemoani, by whom we live,
Bade thee go forth, and with thy lightnings fill
The vault of Heaven, and with thy thunders rock
The rooted earth, till of the monster race
Only their monumental bones remained;
So arm thy favour’d people with thy might,
Terrible God! and purify the land
From these blaspheming foes!
He said, and gave
Ocelopan the vase. — Chiefs, ye have pour’d
Your strength and courage to the Terrible God,
Devoted to his service: take ye now
The beverage he hath hallow’d. In your youth.
Ye have quaff’d manly blood, that manly thoughts
Might ripen in your hearts; so now with this,
Which mingling from such noble veins hath flow’d,
Increase of valor drink, and added force.
Ocelopan received the bloody vase,
And drank, and gave in silence to his friend
The consecrated draught; then Tlalala
Drain’d off the offering. Braver blood than this
My lips can never taste! quoth he; but soon
Grant me, Mexitli, a more grateful cup, �
�
The stranger’s life.
Are all the rites perform’d?
Ocelopan enquir’d. Yea, all is done,
Answered the Priest. Go! and the guardian God
of Aztlan be your guide!
They left the fane.
Lo! as Tezozomoc was passing by
The eternal fire, the eternal fire shot up
A long blue flame. He started; he exclaimed,
The God! the God! Tezcalipoca’s Priest
Echoed the welcome cry, The God! the God!
For, lo! his footsteps mark the maize-strewn floor!
A mighty shout from all the multitudes
Of Aztlan rose; they cast into the fire
The victims, whose last shrieks of agony
Mingled unheeded with the cries of joy.
Then louder from the spiral sea-shell’s depth
Swell’d the full roar, and from the hollow wood
Peal’d deeper thunders. Round the choral band,
The circling nobles, gay with gorgeous plumes,
And gems which sparkled to the midnight fire,
Mov’d in the solemn dance; each in his hand,
In measur’d movements lifts the feathery shield,
And shakes a rattling ball to measur’d sounds.
With quicker steps, the inferior chiefs without,
Equal in number, but in just array,
The spreading radii of the mystic wheel,
Revolve; and, outermost, the youths roll round,
In motions rapid as their quicken’d blood.
So thus with song and harmony, the night
Passed on in Aztlan, and all hearts rejoiced.
XI.
Meantime from Aztlan, on their enterprise,
Shedder of Blood and Tiger of the War,
Ocelopan and Tlalala set forth.
With chosen followers, through the silent night,
Silent they travell’d on. After a way
Circuitous and far through lonely tracks,
They reach’d the mountains, and, amid the shade
Of thickets covering the uncultur’d slope,
Their patient ambush placed. The Chiefs alone
Held on, till, winding in ascent, they reach’d
The heights which o’er the Britons’ mountain hold
Impended; there they stood, and by the moon,
Who yet, with undiminished lustre, shone
High in the dark blue firmament, from thence
Explor’d the steep descent. Precipitous
The rock beneath them lay, a sudden cliff
Bare and unbroken; in its midway holes,
Where never hand could reach nor eye intrude,
The eagle built her eyry. Farther on,
Its interrupted crags and ancient woods
Offer’d a difficult way. From crag to crag,
By rocky shelf, by trunk or root or bough,
A painful toil and perilous, they past.
And now, stretch’d out amid the matted shrubs,
Which, at the entrance of the valley, cloth’d
The rugged bank, they crouch’d.
By this the stars
Grew dim; the glow-worm hath put out her lamp;
The owls have ceas’d their night-song. On the top
Of yon magnolia, the loud turkey’s voice
Is heralding the dawn; from tree to tree
Extends the wakening watch-note, far and wide,
Till the whole woodlands echo with the cry.
Now breaks the morning; but as yet no foot
Hath mark’d the dews, nor sound of man is heard.
Then first Ocelopan beheld, where near,
Beneath the shelter of a half-roof’d hut,
A sleeping Stranger lay. He pointed him
To Tlalala. The Tiger look’d around:
None else was nigh. — Shall I descend, he said,
And strike him? here is none to see the deed.
We offered to the Gods our mingled blood
Last night; and now, I deem it, they present
An offering which shall more propitiate them,
And omen sure success. I will go down
And kill!
He said, and, gliding like a snake,
Where Caradoc lay sleeping made his way.
Sweetly slept he, and pleasant were his dreams
Of Britain, and the blue-eyed maid he lov’d.
The Azteca stood over him; he knew
His victim, and the power of vengeance gave
Malignant joy. Once hast thou ‘scap’d my arm;
But what shall save thee now? the Tyger thought,
Exulting; and he rais’d his spear to strike.
That instant, o’er the Briton’s unseen harp
The gale of morning past, and swept its strings
Into so sweet a harmony, that sure
It seemed no earthly tone. The savage man
Suspends his stroke; he looks astonish’d round;
No human hand is near; — and, hark! again
The aerial music swells and dies away.
Then first the heart of Tlalala felt fear:
He thought that some protecting spirit liv’d
Beside the stranger, and, abash’d, withdrew.
A God protects him! to Ocelopan,
Whispering, he said. Didst thou not hear the sound
Which enter’d into me, and fix’d my arm
Powerless above him?
Was it not a voice
From thine own Gods, to strengthen thee, replied
His sterner comrade, and make evident
Their pleasure in the deed?
Nay! Tlalala
Rejoin’d; they speak in darkness and in storms:
The thunder is their voice, that peals through Heaven,
Or, rolling underneath us, makes earth rock
In tempest, and destroys the sons of men.
It was no sound of theirs, Ocelopan!
No voice to hearten; — for I felt it pass
Unmanning every limb; — yea, it relax’d
The sinews of my soul. Shedder of Blood,
I cannot lift my hand against the man.
Go, if thy heart be stronger!
But mean time
Young Caradoc arose, of his escape
Unconscious; and by this the stirring sounds
Of day began, increasing now, as all
Now to their toil betake them. Some go fell
The stately wood; some from the trunk low-laid
Hew the huge boughs; here round the fire they char
The stake-points; here they level with a line
The ground-plot, and infix the ready piles,
Or, interknitting them with osiers, weave
The wicker wall; others along the lake,
From its shoal waters, gather reeds and canes, —
Light roofing, suited to the genial sky.
The woodman’s measured stroke, the regular saw,
The wain slow-creaking, and the voice of man
Answering his fellow, or, in single toil,
Cheering his labour with a cheerful song,
Strange concert made to those fierce Aztecas,
Who, beast-like, in their silent lurking place
Couch’d close and still, observant for their prey.
All overseeing, and directing all,
From place to place mov’d Madoc, and beheld
The dwellings rise. Young Hoel at his side
Ran on, best pleased when at his uncle’s side
Courting indulgent love. And now they came
Beside the half-roof’d hut of Caradoc;
Of all the mountain-dwellings that the last.
The little boy, in boyish wantonness,
Would quit his Uncle’s hold, and haste away,
With childhood’s frolic speed, then laugh aloud,
To tempt pursuit; now running to the huts,
Now toward the entrance of the val
ley straits.
But, wheresoe’er he turn’d, Ocelopan,
With hunter’s eye, pursued his heedless course,
In breath-suspending vigilance. Ah me!
The little wretch toward his lurking-place
Draws near, and calls on Madoc; and the Prince
Thinks of no danger nigh, and follows not
The childish lure! Nearer the covert now
Young Hoel runs, and stops, and calls again;
Then, like a lion, from his couching-place
Ocelopan leaped forth, and seiz’d his prey.
Loud shrieked the affrighted child, as in his arms
The savage grasped him; startled at the cry,
Madoc beheld him hastening through the pass.
Quick as instinctive love can urge his feet
He follows, and he now almost has reach’d
The incumber’d ravisher, and hope inspires
New speed; — yet nearer now, and nearer still, —
And, lo! the child holds out his little arms!
That instant, as the Prince had almost laid
His hand upon the boy, young Tlalala
Leapt on his neck; and soon, though Madoc’s strength
With frantic fury shook him from his hold,
Far down the steep Ocelopan had fled.
Ah! what avails it now, that they, by whom
Madoc was standing to survey their toil,
Have missed their Chief, and spread the quick alarm?
What now avails it, that, with distant aid,
His gallant men come down? Regarding nought
But Hoel, but the wretched Llaian’s grief,
He rushes on; and ever, as he draws
Near to the child, the Tiger Tlalala
Impedes his way. And now they reach the place
Of ambush, and the ambushed band arise,
And Madoc is their prisoner.
Caradoc,
In vain thou leadest on the late pursuit!
In vain,Cadwallon, thy alarmed love
Caught the first sound of evil! They pour out
Tumultuous from the vale, a half-arm’d troop;
Each with such weapons as his hasty hand
Can seize, they rush to battle. Gallant men,
Your valor boots not! It avails not now,
With such fierce onset that ye charge the foe,
And drive with such full force the weapon home!
They, while ye slaughter them, impede pursuit;
Complete Poetical Works of Robert Southey Page 80