[Page 295]

THE MISSIONARY.

Amor patriæ ratione potentior omni. [Page 296]

PREFACE TO THE SECOND EDITION.
192 Dedicated to the Marquis of Lansdowne.

It is not necessary to relate the causes which induced me to publish this poem without a name.

The favour with which it has been received may make me less diffident in avowing it; and, as a second edition has been generally called for, I have endeavoured to make it, in every respect, less unworthy of the public eye.

I have availed myself of every sensible objection, the most material of which was the circumstance, that the Indian maid, described in the first book, had not a part assigned to her of sufficient interest in the subsequent events of the poem, and that the character of the Missionary was not sufficiently professional.

The single circumstance that a Spanish commander, with his army in South America, was destroyed by the Indians, in consequence of the treachery of his page, who was a native, and that only a priest was saved, is all that has been taken from history. The rest of this poem, the personages, father, daughter, wife, et cet. (with the exception of the names of Indian warriors) is imaginary. The time is two months. The first four books include as many days and nights. The rest of the time is occupied by the Spaniards' march, the assembly of warriors, et cet.

The place in which the scene is laid, was selected because South America has of late years received additional interest, and because the ground was at once new, poetical, and picturesque.

From old-fashioned feelings, perhaps, I have admitted some aërial agents, or what is called machinery. It is true that the spirits cannot be said to accelerate or retard the events; but surely they may be allowed to show a sympathy with the fate of those, among whom poetical fancy has given them a prescriptive ideal existence. They may be further excused, as relieving the narrative, and adding to the imagery.

The causes which induced me to publish this poem without a name, induced me also to attempt it in a versification to which I have been least accustomed, which, to my ear, is most uncongenial, and which is, in itself, most difficult. I mention this, in order that, if some passages should be found less harmonious than they might have been, the candour of the reader may pardon them.

Scene — South America.

Characters. — Valdivia, commander of the Spanish armies — Lautaro, his page, a native of Chili — Anselmo, the missionary — Indiana, his adopted daughter, wife of Lautaro — Zarinel, the wandering minstrel.

Indians. — Attacapac, father of Lautaro — Olola, his daughter, sister of Lautaro — Caupolican, chief of the Indians — Indian warriors.

The chief event of the poem turns upon the conduct of Lautaro; but as the Missionary acts so distinguished a part, and as the whole of the moral depends upon him, it was thought better to retain the title which was originally given to the poem.

[Page 297]

THE MISSIONARY.

INTRODUCTION.

1 When o'er the Atlantic wild, rocked by the blast,
2 Sad Lusitania's exiled sovereign passed,
3 Reft of her pomp, from her paternal throne
4 Cast forth, and wandering to a clime unknown,
5 To seek a refuge on that distant shore,
6 That once her country's legions dyed with gore; —
7 Sudden, methought, high towering o'er the flood,
8 Hesperian world! thy mighty genius stood;
9 Where spread, from cape to cape, from bay to bay,
10 Serenely blue, the vast Pacific lay;
11 And the huge Cordilleras to the skies
12 With all their burning summits seemed to rise.
13 Then the stern spirit spoke, and to his voice
14 The waves and woods replied: — Mountains, rejoice!
15 Thou solitary sea, whose billows sweep
16 The margin of my forests, dark and deep,
17 Rejoice! the hour is come: the mortal blow,
18 That smote the golden shrines of Mexico,
19 In Europe is avenged; and thou, proud Spain,
20 Now hostile hosts insult thy own domain;[Page 298]
21 Now Fate, vindictive, rolls, with refluent flood,
22 Back on thy shores the tide of human blood,
23 Think of my murdered millions! of the cries
24 That once I heard from all my kingdoms rise;
25 Of Famine's feeble plaint, of Slavery's tear; —
26 Think, too, if Valour, Freedom, Fame, be dear,
27 How my Antarctic sons, undaunted, stood,
28 Exacting groan for groan, and blood for blood;
29 And shouted, (may the sounds be hailed by thee!)
30 Tyrants, the virtuous and the brave are free!

CANTO FIRST.

ARGUMENT.

One Day and Part of Night.

Valley in the Andes — Old Indian warrior — Loss of his son and daughter.

1 Beneath aërial cliffs, and glittering snows,
2 The rush-roof of an aged warrior rose,
3 Chief of the mountain tribes: high overhead,
4 The Andes, wild and desolate, were spread,
5 Where cold Sierras shot their icy spires,
6 And Chillan
193 A volcano in Chili.
trailed its smoke and smouldering fires.
7 A glen beneath, a lonely spot of rest,
8 Hung, scarce discovered, like an eagle's nest.
9 Summer was in its prime; — the parrot-flocks
10 Darkened the passing sunshine on the rocks;[Page 299]
11 The chrysomel
194 The chrysomela is a beautiful insect of which the young women of Chili make necklaces.
and purple butterfly,
195 The parrot butterfly, peculiar to this part of America, the largest and most brilliant of its kind. — Papilio psittacus.
12 Amid the clear blue light, are wandering by;
13 The humming-bird, along the myrtle bowers,
14 With twinkling wing, is spinning o'er the flowers,
15 The woodpecker is heard with busy bill,
16 The mock-bird sings — and all beside is still,
17 And look! the cataract that bursts so high,
18 As not to mar the deep tranquillity,
19 The tumult of its dashing fall suspends,
20 And, stealing drop by drop, in mist descends;
21 Through whose illumined spray and sprinkling dews,
22 Shine to the adverse sun the broken rainbow hues.
23 Chequering, with partial shade, the beams of noon,
24 And arching the gray rock with wild festoon,
25 Here its gay net-work, and fantastic twine,
26 The purple cogul
196 A most beautiful climbing plant. The vine is of the size of packthread: it climbs on the trees without attaching itself to them: when it reaches the top, it descends perpendicularly; and as it continues to grow, it extends itself from tree to tree, until it offers to the eye a confused tissue, exhibiting some resemblance to the rigging of a ship. — Molina.
threads from pine to pine,
27 And oft, as the fresh airs of morning breathe,
28 Dips its long tendrils in the stream beneath.
29 There, through the trunks with moss and lichens white,
30 The sunshine darts its interrupted light,
31 And, 'mid the cedar's darksome boughs, illumes,
32 With instant touch, the Lori's scarlet plumes.
33 So smiles the scene; — but can its smiles impart
34 Aught to console yon mourning warrior's heart?
35 He heeds not now, when beautifully bright,
36 The humming-bird is circling in his sight;
37 Nor ev'n, above his head, when air is still,
38 Hears the green woodpecker's resounding bill;[Page 300]
39 But gazing on the rocks and mountains wild,
40 Rock after rock, in glittering masses piled
41 To the volcano's cone, that shoots so high
42 Gray smoke whose column stains the cloudless sky,
43 He cries, Oh! if thy spirit yet be fled
44 To the pale kingdoms of the shadowy dead, —
45 In yonder tract of purest light above,
46 Dear long-lost object of a father's love,
47 Dost thou abide; or like a shadow come,
48 Circling the scenes of thy remembered home,
49 And passing with the breeze, or, in the beam
50 Of evening, light the desert mountain stream!
51 Or at deep midnight are thine accents heard,
52 In the sad notes of that melodious bird,
197 I chanced once to lodge in a village named Upec by the Frenchmen: there, in the night, I heard those birds, not singing, but making a lamentable noise. I saw the barbarians most attentive, and, being ignorant of the whole matter, reproved their folly. But when I smiled a little upon a Frenchman standing by me, a certain old man, severely enough, restrained me with these words: "Hold your peace, lest you hinder us who attentively hearken to the happy tidings of our ancestors; for as often as we hear these birds, so often also are we cheered, and our strength receiveth increase. " — Callender's Voyage.
53 Which, as we listen with mysterious dread,
54 Brings tidings from our friends and fathers dead?
55 Perhaps, beyond those summits, far away,
56 Thine eyes yet view the living light of day;
57 Sad, in the stranger's land, thou may'st sustain
58 A weary life of servitude and pain,
59 With wasted eye gaze on the orient beam,
60 And think of these white rocks and torrent stream,
61 Never to hear the summer cocoa wave,
62 Or weep upon thy father's distant grave.
63 Ye, who have waked, and listened with a tear,
64 When cries confused, and clangours rolled more near;[Page 301]
65 With murmured prayer, when Mercy stood aghast,
66 As War's black trump pealed its terrific blast,
67 And o'er the withered earth the armed giant passed!
68 Ye, who his track with terror have pursued,
69 When some delightful land, all blood-imbrued,
70 He swept; where silent is the champaign wide,
71 That echoed to the pipe of yester-tide,
72 Save, when far off, the moonlight hills prolong
73 The last deep echoes of his parting gong;
74 Nor aught is seen, in the deserted spot
75 Where trailed the smoke of many a peaceful cot,
76 Save livid corses that unburied lie,
77 And conflagrations, reeking to the sky; —
78 Come listen, whilst the causes I relate
79 That bowed the warrior to the storms of fate,
80 And left these smiling scenes forlorn and desolate.
81 In other days, when, in his manly pride,
82 Two children for a father's fondness vied, —
83 Oft they essayed, in mimic strife, to wield
84 His lance, or laughing peeped behind his shield;
85 Oft in the sun, or the magnolia's shade,
86 Lightsome of heart as gay of look they played,
87 Brother and sister. She, along the dew,
88 Blithe as the squirrel of the forest flew;
89 Blue rushes wreathed her head; her dark-brown hair
90 Fell, gently lifted, on her bosom bare;
91 Her necklace shone, of sparkling insects made,
92 That flit, like specks of fire, from sun to shade.
93 Light was her form; a clasp of silver braced
94 The azure-dyed ichella
198 The ichella is a short cloak, of a greenish-blue colour, of wool, fastened before with a silver buckle. — Molina.
round her waist;
95 Her ancles rung with shells, as unconfined
96 She danced, and sung wild carols to the wind. [Page 302]
97 With snow-white teeth, and laughter in her eye,
98 So beautiful in youth she bounded by.
99 Yet kindness sat upon her aspect bland, —
100 The tame alpaca
199 The alpaca is perhaps the most beautiful, gentle, and interesting of living animals: one was to be seen in London in 1812.
stood and licked her hand;
101 She brought him gathered moss, and loved to deck
102 With flowery twine his tall and stately neck,
103 Whilst he with silent gratitude replies,
104 And bends to her caress his large blue eyes.
105 These children danced together in the shade,
106 Or stretched their hands to see the rainbow fade;
107 Or sat and mocked, with imitative glee,
108 The paroquet, that laughed from tree to tree;
109 Or through the forest's wildest solitude,
110 From glen to glen, the marmozet pursued;
111 And thought the light of parting day too short,
112 That called them, lingering, from their daily sport.
113 In that fair season of awakening life,
114 When dawning youth and childhood are at strife;
115 When on the verge of thought gay boyhood stands
116 Tiptoe, with glistening eye and outspread hands;
117 With airy look, and form and footsteps light,
118 And glossy locks, and features berry-bright,
119 And eye like the young eaglet's, to the ray
120 Of noon unblenching as he sails away;
121 A brede of sea-shells on his bosom strung,
122 A small stone-hatchet o'er his shoulder slung,
123 With slender lance, and feathers blue and red,
124 That, like the heron's
200 Ardea cristata.
crest, waved on his head, —
125 Buoyant with hope, and airiness, and joy,
126 Lautaro was a graceful Indian boy:
127 Taught by his sire, ev'n now he drew the bow,
128 Or tracked the jagguar on the morning snow;[Page 303]
129 Startled the condor, on the craggy height;
130 Then silent sat, and marked its upward flight,
131 Lessening in ether to a speck of white.
132 But when the impassioned chieftain spoke of war,
133 Smote his broad breast, or pointed to a scar, —
134 Spoke of the strangers of the distant main,
135 And the proud banners of insulting Spain, —
136 Of the barbed horse and iron horseman spoke,
137 And his red gods, that, wrapped in rolling smoke,
138 Roared from the guns; — the boy, with still-drawn breath,
139 Hung on the wondrous tale, as mute as death;
140 Then raised his animated eyes, and cried,
141 Oh, let me perish by my father's side!
142 Once, when the moon, o'er Chillan's cloudless height,
143 Poured, far and wide, its softest, mildest light,
144 A predatory band of mailed men
145 Burst on the stillness of the sheltered glen:
146 They shouted, Death! and shook their sabres high,
147 That shone terrific to the moonlight sky;
148 Where'er they rode, the valley and the hill
149 Echoed the shrieks of death, till all again was still.
150 The warrior, ere he sank in slumber deep,
151 Had kissed his son, soft-breathing in his sleep,
152 Where on a Llama's skin he lay, and said,
153 Placing his hand, with tears, upon his head,
154 Aërial nymphs!
201 Every warrior of Chili, according to Molina, has his attendant "nymph" or fairy — the belief in which is nearly similar to the popular and poetical idea of those beings in Europe. Meulen is the benevolent spirit.
that in the moonlight stray,
155 O gentle spirits! here awhile delay;
156 Bless, as ye pass unseen, my sleeping boy,
157 Till blithe he wakes to daylight and to joy.
158 If the great spirit will, in future days,
159 O'er the fall'n foe his hatchet he shall raise,[Page 304]
160 And, 'mid a grateful nation's high applause,
161 Avenge his violated country's cause!
162 Now, nearer points of spears, and many a cone
163 Of moving helmets, in the moonlight shone,
164 As, clanking through the pass, the band of blood
165 Sprang, like hyænas, from the secret wood.
166 They rush, they seize their unresisting prey,
167 Ruthless they tear the shrieking boy away;
168 But, not till gashed by many a sabre wound,
169 The father sank, expiring, on the ground.
170 He waked from the dark trance to life and pain,
171 But never saw his darling child again.
172 Seven snows had fallen, and seven green summers passed,
173 Since here he heard that son's loved accents last.
174 Still his beloved daughter soothed his cares,
175 Whilst time began to strew with white his hairs.
176 Oft as his painted feathers he unbound,
177 Or gazed upon his hatchet on the ground,
178 Musing with deep despair, nor strove to speak,
179 Light she approached, and climbed to reach his cheek,
180 Held with both hands his forehead, then her head
181 Drew smiling back, and kissed the tear he shed.
182 But late, to grief and hopeless love a prey,
183 She left his side, and wandered far away.
184 Now in this still and shelter'd glen, that smiled
185 Beneath the crags of precipices wild,
186 Wrapt in a stern yet sorrowful repose,
187 The warrior half forgot his country's woes;
188 Forgot how many, impotent to save,
189 Shed their best blood upon a father's grave;
190 How many, torn from wife and children, pine
191 In the dark caverns of the hopeless mine,
192 Never to see again the blessed morn; —
193 Slaves in the lovely land where they were born;[Page 305]
194 How many at sad sunset, with a tear,
195 The distant roar of sullen cannons hear,
196 Whilst evening seems, as dies the sound, to throw
197 A deadlier stillness on a nation's woe!
198 So the dark warrior, day succeeding day,
199 Wore in distempered thought the noons away;
200 And still, when weary evening came, he sighed,
201 My son, my son! or, with emotion, cried,
202 When I descend to the cold grave alone,
203 Who shall be there to mourn for me? — Not one!
202 I have taken this line from the conclusion of the celebrated speech of the old North American warrior, Logan, "Who is there to mourn for Logan? — not one!"
204 The crimson orb of day now westering flung
205 His beams, and o'er the vast Pacific hung;
206 When from afar a shrilling sound was heard,
207 And, hurrying o'er the dews, a scout appeared.
208 The watchful warrior knew the piercing tones,
209 The signal-call of war, from human bones, —
210 What tidings? with impatient look, he cried.
211 Tidings of war, the hurrying scout replied;
212 Then the sharp pipe
203 Their pipes of war are made of the bones of their enemies, who have been sacrificed.
with shriller summons blew,
213 And held the blood-red arrow high in view.
204 The way in which the warriors are summoned, is something like the "running the cross" in Scotland, which is so beautifully described by Walter Scott. The scouts on this occasion bear an arrow bound with red fillets.
CHIEF.
214 Where speed the foes?
INDIAN.
214 Along the southern main,
215 Have passed the vultures of accursed Spain. [Page 306]
CHIEF.
216 Ruin pursue them on the distant flood,
217 And be their deadly portion — blood for blood!
INDIAN.
218 When, round and red, the moon shall next arise,
219 The chiefs attend the midnight sacrifice
220 In Encol's wood, where the great wizard dwells,
221 Who wakes the dead man by his thrilling spells;
222 Thee,
205 Ulmen is the same as Casique, or chief.
Ulmen of the Mountains, they command
223 To lift the hatchet for thy native land;
224 Whilst in dread circle, round the sere-wood smoke,
225 The mighty gods of vengeance they invoke;
226 And call the spirits of their fathers slain,
227 To nerve their lifted arm, and curse devoted Spain.
228 So spoke the scout of war; — and o'er the dew,
229 Onward along the craggy valley, flew.
230 Then the stern warrior sang his song of death —
231 And blew his conch, that all the glens beneath
232 Echoed, and rushing from the hollow wood,
233 Soon at his side three hundred warriors stood.
WARRIOR.
234 Children, who for his country dares to die?
235 Three hundred brandished spears shone to the sky:
236 We perish, or we leave our country free;
237 Father, our blood for Chili and for thee!
238 The mountain-chief essayed his club to wield,
239 And shook the dust indignant from the shield.
240 Then spoke:[Page 307] —
240 O Thou! that with thy lingering light
241 Dost warm the world, till all is hushed in night;
242 I look upon thy parting beams, O sun!
243 And say, ev'n thus my course is almost run.
244 When thou dost hide thy head, as in the grave,
245 And sink to glorious rest beneath the wave,
246 Dost thou, majestic in repose, retire,
247 Below the deep, to unknown worlds of fire!
248 Yet though thou sinkest, awful, in the main,
249 The shadowy moon comes forth, and all the train
250 Of stars, that shine with soft and silent light,
251 Making so beautiful the brow of night.
252 Thus, when I sleep within the narrow bed,
253 The light of after-fame around shall spread;
254 The sons of distant Ocean, when they see
255 The grass-green heap beneath the mountain tree,
256 And hear the leafy boughs at evening wave,
257 Shall pause and say, There sleep in dust the brave!
258 All earthly hopes my lonely heart have fled!
259 Stern Guecubu,
206 [Guecubu] is the evil spirit of the Chilians.
angel of the dead,
260 Who laughest when the brave in pangs expire;
261 Whose dwelling is beneath the central fire
262 Of yonder burning mountain; who hast passed
263 O'er my poor dwelling, and with one fell blast
264 Scattered my summer-leaves that clustered round,
265 And swept my fairest blossoms to the ground;
266 Angel of dire despair, oh! come not nigh,
267 Nor wave thy red wings o'er me where I lie;
268 But thou, O mild and gentle spirit! stand,
269 Angel
207 They have their evil and good spirits.
of hope and peace, at my right hand,
270 (When blood-drops stagnate on my brow) and guide
271 My pathless voyage o'er the unknown tide,[Page 308]
272 To scenes of endless joy, to that fair isle,
273 Where bowers of bliss, and soft savannahs smile:
274 Where my forefathers oft the fight renew,
275 And Spain's black visionary steeds pursue;
276 Where, ceased the struggles of all human pain,
277 I may behold thee — thee, my son, again!
278 He spoke, and whilst at evening's glimmering close
279 The distant mist, like the gray ocean, rose,
280 With patriot sorrows swelling at his breast,
281 He sank upon a jagguar's hide to rest.
282 'Twas night: remote on Caracalla's bay,
283 Valdivia's army, hushed in slumber, lay.
284 Around the limits of the silent camp,
285 Alone was heard the steed's patroling tramp
286 From line to line, whilst the fixed sentinel
287 Proclaimed the watch of midnight — All is well!
288 Valdivia dreamed of millions yet untold,
289 Villrica's gems, and El Dorado's gold!
290 What different feelings, by the scene impressed,
291 Rose in sad tumult o'er Lautaro's breast!
292 On the broad ocean, where the moonlight slept,
293 Thoughtful he turned his waking eyes, and wept,
294 And whilst the thronging forms of memory start,
295 Thus holds communion with his lonely heart:
296 Land of my fathers, still I tread your shore,
297 And mourn the shade of hours that are no more;
298 Whilst night-airs, like remembered voices, sweep,
299 And murmur from the undulating deep.
300 Was it thy voice, my father! Thou art dead,
301 The green rush waves on thy forsaken bed.
302 Was it thy voice, my sister! Gentle maid,
303 Thou too, perhaps, in the dark cave art laid;
304 Perhaps, even now, thy spirit sees me stand
305 A homeless stranger in my native land;[Page 309]
306 Perhaps, even now, along the moonlight sea,
307 It bends from the blue cloud, remembering me!
308 Land of my fathers! yet, oh yet forgive,
309 That with thy deadly enemies I live:
310 The tenderest ties (it boots not to relate)
311 Have bound me to their service, and their fate;
312 Yet, whether on Peru's war-wasted plain,
313 Or visiting these sacred shores again,
314 Whate'er the struggles of this heart may be,
315 Land of my fathers, it shall beat for thee!

CANTO SECOND.

ARGUMENT.

The Second Day.

Night — Spirit of the Andes — Valdivia — Lautaro — Missionary — The Hermitage.

1 The night was still and clear, when, o'er the snows,
2 Andes! thy melancholy Spirit rose, —
3 A shadow stern and sad: he stood alone,
4 Upon the topmost mountain's burning cone;
5 And whilst his eyes shone dim, through surging smoke,
6 Thus to the spirits of the fire he spoke: —
7 Ye, who tread the hidden deeps,
8 Where the silent earthquake sleeps;
9 Ye, who track the sulphurous tide,
10 Or on hissing vapours ride, —
11 Spirits, come! [Page 310]
12 From worlds of subterraneous night;
13 From fiery realms of lurid light;
14 From the ore's unfathomed bed;
15 From the lava's whirlpools red, —
16 Spirits, come!
17 On Chili's foes rush with vindictive sway,
18 And sweep them from the light of living day!
19 Heard ye not the ravenous brood,
20 That flap their wings, and scream for blood?
21 On Peru's devoted shore
22 Their murderous beaks are red with gore;
23 Yet here, impatient for new prey,
24 The insatiate vultures track their way.
25 Let them perish! they, whose bands
26 Swept remote and peaceful lands!
27 Let them perish! — on their head,
28 Descend the darkness of the dead!
29 Spirits, now your caves forsake:
30 Hark! ten thousand warriors wake! —
31 Spirits, their high cause defend! —
32 From your caves ascend! ascend!
33 As thus the Genius of the Andes spoke,
34 The trembling mountain heaved with darker smoke;
35 Lightnings, and phantom-forms, by fits appeared;
36 His mighty voice far off Osorno heard;
37 The caverned deeps shook through their vast profound,
38 And Chimborazzo's height rolled back the sound.
39 With lifted arm, and towering stature high,
40 And aspect frowning to the middle sky
41 (Its misty form dilated in the wind),
42 The phantom stood, — till, less and less defined,[Page 311]
43 Into thin air it faded from the sight,
44 Lost in the ambient haze of slow-returning light.
45 Its feathery-seeming crown, its giant spear,
46 Its limbs of huge proportion, disappear;
47 And the bare mountains to the dawn disclose
48 The same long line of solitary snows.
49 The morning shines, the military train
50 Streams far and wide along the tented plain;
51 And plaited cuirasses, and helms of steel,
52 Throw back the sunbeams, as the horsemen wheel:
53 Thus, with arms glancing to the eastern light,
54 Pass, in review, proud steeds and cohorts bright;
55 For all the host, by break of morrow's gray,
56 Wind back their march to Penco's northern bay,
57 Valdivia, fearful lest confederate foes,
58 Ambushed and dark, his progress might oppose,
59 Marshals to-day the whole collected force,
60 File and artillery, cuirassier and horse:
61 Himself yet lingers ere he joins the train,
62 That moves, in ordered march, along the plain,
63 While troops, and Indian slaves beneath his eye,
64 The labours of the rising city ply:
208 The city Baldivia.
65 Wide glows the general toil; the mole extends,
66 The watch-tower o'er the desert surge ascends;
67 And battlements, and rising ramparts, shine
68 Above the ocean's blue and level line.
69 The sun ascended to meridian height,
70 And all the northern bastions shone in light;
71 With hoarse acclaim, the gong and trumpet rung,
72 The Moorish slaves aloft their cymbals swung,
73 When the proud victor, in triumphant state,
74 Rode forth, in arms, through the portcullis' gate. [Page 312]
75 With neck high-arching as he smote the ground,
76 And restless pawing to the trumpet's sound, —
77 With mantling mane, o'er his broad shoulders spread,
78 And nostrils blowing, and dilated red, —
79 The coal-black steed, in rich caparison
80 Far trailing to the ground, went proudly on.
81 Proudly he tramped, as conscious of his charge,
82 And turned around his eye-balls, bright and large,
83 And shook the frothy boss, as in disdain;
84 And tossed the flakes, indignant, off his mane;
85 And, with high-swelling veins, exulting pressed
86 Proudly against the barb his heaving breast.
87 The fate of empires glowing in his thought,
88 Thus armed, the tented field Valdivia sought.
89 On the left side his poised shield he bore,
90 With quaint devices richly blazoned o'er;
91 Above the plumes, upon his helmet's cone,
92 Castile's imperial crest illustrious shone;
93 Blue in the wind the escutcheoned mantle flowed,
94 O'er the chained mail, which tinkled as he rode.
95 The barred vizor raised, you might discern
96 His clime-changed countenance,
209 He had served in the wars of Italy.
though pale, yet stern,
97 And resolute as death, — whilst in his eye
98 Sat proud Assurance, Fame, and Victory.
99 Lautaro, now in manhood's rising pride,
100 Rode, with a lance, attendant at his side,
101 In Spanish mantle gracefully arrayed;
102 Upon his brow a tuft of feathers played:
103 His glossy locks, with dark and mantling grace,
104 Shaded the noonday sunbeams on his face.
105 Though passed in tears the dayspring of his youth,
106 Valdivia loved his gratitude and truth:[Page 313]
107 He, in Valdivia, owned a nobler friend;
108 Kind to protect, and mighty to defend.
109 So, on he rode; upon his youthful mien
110 A mild but sad intelligence was seen;
111 Courage was on his open brow, yet care
112 Seemed like a wandering shade to linger there;
113 And though his eye shone, as the eagle's, bright,
114 It beamed with humid, melancholy light
115 When now Valdivia saw the embattled line,
116 Helmets, and swords, and shields, and matchlocks, shine;
117 Now the long phalanx still and steady stand,
118 Fixed every eye, and motionless each hand;
119 Then slowly clustering, into columns wheel,
120 Each with the red-cross banners of Castile;
121 While trumps, and drums, and cymbals, to his ear
122 Made music such as soldiers love to hear;
123 While horsemen checked their steeds, or, bending low
124 With levelled lances, o'er the saddle-bow,
125 Rode gallantly at tilt; and thunders broke,
126 Instant involving van and rear in smoke,
127 Till winds the obscuring volume rolled away,
128 And the red file, stretched out in long array,
129 More radiant moved beneath the beams of day;
130 While ensigns, arms, and crosses, glittered bright, —
131 Philip!
210 Lautaro had been baptized by that name.
he cried, seest thou the glorious sight?
132 And dost thou deem the tribes of this poor land
133 Can men, and arms, and steeds, like these, withstand?
134 Forgive! — the youth replied, and checked a tear, —
135 The land where my forefathers sleep is dear! —
136 My native land! — this spot of blessed earth,
137 The scene where I, and all I love, had birth!
138 What gratitude fidelity can give
139 Is yours, my lord! — you shielded — bade me live,[Page 314]
140 When, in the circuit of the world so wide,
141 I had but one, one only friend beside.
142 I bowed resigned to fate; I kissed the hand,
143 Red with the best blood of my father's land!
211 Valdivia had before been in Chili.
144 But mighty as thou art, Valdivia, know,
145 Though Cortes' desolating march laid low
146 The shrines of rich, voluptuous Mexico;
147 With carcases, though proud Pizarro strew
148 The Sun's imperial temple in Peru,
149 Yet the rude dwellers of this land are brave,
150 And the last spot they lose will be their grave!
151 A moment's crimson crossed Valdivia's cheek —
152 Then o'er the plain he spurred, nor deigned to speak,
153 Waving the youth, at distance, to retire;
154 None saw the eye that shot terrific fire.
155 As their commander sternly rode along,
156 Troop after troop, halted the martial throng;
157 And all the pennoned trumps a louder blast
158 Blew, as the Southern World's great victor passed.
159 Lautaro turned, scarce heeding, from the view,
160 And from the noise of trumps and drums withdrew;
161 And now, while troubled thoughts his bosom swell,
162 Seeks the gray Missionary's humble cell.
163 Fronting the ocean, but beyond the ken
164 Of public view, and sounds of murmuring men,
165 Of unhewn roots composed, and gnarled wood,
166 A small and rustic oratory stood;
167 Upon its roof of reeds appeared a cross,
168 The porch within was lined with mantling moss;
169 A crucifix and hour-glass, on each side —
170 One to admonish seemed, and one to guide;
171 This, to impress how soon life's race is o'er;
172 And that, to lift our hopes where time shall be no more. [Page 315]
173 O'er the rude porch, with wild and gadding stray,
174 The clustering copu weaved its trellis gay;
175 Two mossy pines, high bending, interwove
176 Their aged and fantastic arms above.
177 In front, amid the gay surrounding flowers,
178 A dial counted the departing hours,
179 On which the sweetest light of summer shone, —
180 A rude and brief inscription marked the stone:
181 To count, with passing shade, the hours,
182 I placed the dial 'mid the flowers;
183 That, one by one, came forth, and died,
184 Blooming, and withering, round its side.
185 Mortal, let the sight impart
186 Its pensive moral to thy heart!
187 Just heard to trickle through a covert near,
188 And soothing, with perpetual lapse, the ear,
189 A fount, like rain-drops, filtered through the stone,
190 And, bright as amber, on the shallows shone.
191 Intent his fairy pastime to pursue,
192 And, gem-like, hovering o'er the violets blue,
193 The humming-bird, here, its unceasing song
194 Heedlessly murmured, all the summer long;
195 And when the winter came, retired to rest,
196 And from the myrtles hung its trembling nest.
197 No sounds of a conflicting world were near;
198 The noise of ocean faintly met the ear,
199 That seemed, as sunk to rest the noontide blast,
200 But dying sounds of passions that were past;
201 Or closing anthems, when, far off, expire
202 The lessening echoes of the distant choir.
203 Here, every human sorrow hushed to rest,
204 His pale hands meekly crossed upon his breast,
205 Anselmo sat: the sun, with westering ray,
206 Just touched his temples, and his locks of gray. [Page 316]
207 There was no worldly feeling in his eye;
208 The world to him was "as a thing gone by."
209 Now, all his features lit, he raised his look,
210 Then bent it thoughtful, and unclasped the book;
211 And whilst the hour-glass shed its silent sand,
212 A tame opossum
212 A small and beautiful species, which is domesticated.
licked his withered hand.
213 That sweetest light of slow-declining day,
214 Which through the trellis poured its slanting ray,
215 Resting a moment on his few gray hairs,
216 Seemed light from heaven sent down to bless his prayers.
217 When the trump echoed to the quiet spot,
218 He thought upon the world, but mourned it not;
219 Enough if his meek wisdom could control,
220 And bend to mercy, one proud soldier's soul;
221 Enough, if, while these distant scenes he trod,
222 He led one erring Indian to his God.
223 Whence comes my son? with kind complacent look
224 He asked, and closed again the embossed book.
225 I come to thee for peace, the youth replied:
226 Oh, there is strife, and cruelty, and pride,
227 In this sad Christian world! My native land
228 Was happy, ere the soldier, with his band
229 Of fell destroyers, like a vulture, came,
230 And gave its peaceful scenes to blood and flame.
231 When will the turmoil of earth's tempests cease?
232 Father, I come to thee for peace — for peace!
233 Seek peace, the father cried, with God above:
234 In His good time, all will be peace and love.
235 We mourn, indeed, mourn that all sounds of ill,
236 Earth's fairest scenes with one deep murmur fill;
237 That yonder sun, when evening paints the sky,
238 Sinks, beauteous, on a world of misery;[Page 317]
239 The course of wide destruction to withstand,
240 We lift our feeble voice — our trembling hand;
241 But still, bowed low, or smitten to the dust,
242 Father of mercy, still in Thee we trust!
243 Through good or ill, in poverty or wealth,
244 In joy or woe, in sickness or in health,
245 Meek Piety thy awful hand surveys,
246 And the faint murmur turns to prayer and praise!
247 We know — whatever evils we deplore —
248 Thou hast permitted, and we know no more!
249 Behold, illustrious on the subject plain,
250 Some tow'r-crowned city of imperial Spain!
251 Hark! 'twas the earthquake!
213 No part of the world is so subject to earthquakes as Peru.
clouds of dust alone
252 Ascend from earth, where tower and temple shone!
253 Such is the conqueror's dread path: the grave
254 Yawns for its millions where his banners wave;
255 But shall vain man, whose life is but a sigh,
256 With sullen acquiescence gaze and die?
257 Alas, how little of the mighty maze
258 Of Providence our mortal ken surveys!
259 Heaven's awful Lord, pavilioned in the clouds,
260 Looks through the darkness that all nature shrouds;
261 And, far beyond the tempest and the night,
262 Bids man his course hold on to scenes of endless light.
[Page 318]

CANTO THIRD.

ARGUMENT.

Evening and Night of the same Day.

Anselmo's story — Converted Indians — Confession of the Wandering Minstrel — Night-Scene.

1 Come, — for the sun yet hangs above the bay, —
2 And whilst our time may brook a brief delay
3 With other thoughts, and, haply with a tear,
4 An old man's tale of sorrow thou shalt hear.
5 I wished not to reveal it; — thoughts that dwell
6 Deep in the lonely bosom's inmost cell
7 Unnoticed, and unknown, too painful wake,
8 And, like a tempest, the dark spirit shake,
9 When, starting from our slumberous apathy,
10 We gaze upon the scenes of days gone by.
11 Yet, if a moment's irritating flush,
12 Darkens thy cheek,
214 Indians of Chili are of the lightest class, called by some "white Indians."
as thoughts conflicting rush,
13 When I disclose my hidden griefs, the tale
14 May more than wisdom or reproof prevail.
15 Oh, may it teach thee, till all trials cease,
16 To hold thy course, though sorrowing, yet in peace;
17 Still looking up to Him, the soul's best stay,
18 Who Faith and Hope shall crown, when worlds are swept away!
19 Where fair Seville's Morisco
215 — Of Moorish architecture.
turrets gleam
20 On Guadilquiver's gently-stealing stream;
21 Whose silent waters, seaward as they glide,
22 Reflect the wild-rose thickets on its side,[Page 319]
23 My youth was passed. Oh, days for ever gone!
24 How touched with Heaven's own light your mornings shone
25 Even now, when lonely and forlorn I bend,
26 My weary journey hastening to its end,
27 A drooping exile on a distant shore,
28 I mourn the hours of youth that are no more.
29 The tender thought amid my prayers has part,
30 And steals, at times, from Heaven my aged heart.
31 Forgive the cause, O God! — forgive the tear,
32 That flows, even now, o'er Leonora's bier;
33 For, 'midst the innocent and lovely, none
34 More beautiful than Leonora shone.
35 As by her widowed mother's side she knelt,
36 A sad and sacred sympathy I felt.
37 At Easter-tide, when the high mass was sung,
38 And, fuming high, the silver censer swung;
39 When rich-hued windows, from the arches' height,
40 Poured o'er the shrines a soft and yellow light;
41 From aisle to aisle, amid the service clear,
42 When "Adoremus" swelled upon the ear.
43 (Such as to Heaven thy rapt attention drew
44 First in the Christian churches of Peru),
45 She seemed, methought, some spirit of the sky,
46 Descending to that holy harmony.
47 But wherefore tell, when life and hope were new,
48 How by degrees the soul's first passion grew!
49 I loved her, and I won her virgin heart;
50 But fortune whispered, we a while must part.
51 The minster tolled the middle hour of night,
52 When, waked to agony and wild affright,
53 I heard those words, words of appalling dread —
54 "The Holy Inquisition!" — from the bed
55 I started; snatched my dagger, and my cloak —
56 Who dare accuse me! — none, in answer, spoke. [Page 320]
57 The demons seized, in silence, on their prey,
58 And tore me from my dreams of bliss away.
59 How frightful was their silence, and their shade,
60 In torch-light, as their victim they conveyed,
61 By dark-inscribed, and massy-windowed walls,
62 Through the dim twilight of terrific halls;
63 (For thou hast heard me speak of that foul stain
64 Of pure religion, and the rights of Spain;)
65 Whilst the high windows shook to night's cold blast,
66 And echoed to the foot-fall as we passed!
67 They left me, faint and breathless with affright,
68 In a cold cell, to solitude and night;
69 Oh! think, what horror through the heart must thrill
70 When the last bolt was barred, and all at once was still!
71 Nor day nor night was here, but a deep gloom,
72 Sadder than darkness, wrapped the living tomb.
73 Some bread and water, nature to sustain,
74 Duly was brought when eve returned again;
75 And thus I knew, hoping it were the last,
76 Another day of lingering life was passed.
77 Five years immured in that deep den of night,
78 I never saw the sweet sun's blessed light.
79 Once as the grate, with sullen sound, was barred,
80 And to the bolts the inmost cavern jarred,
81 Methought I heard, as clanged the iron door,
82 A dull and hollow echo from the floor;
83 I stamped; the vault, and winding caves around,
84 Returned a long and melancholy sound.
85 With patient toil I raised a massy stone,
86 And looked into a depth of shade unknown;
87 The murky twilight of the lurid place
88 Helped me, at length, a secret way to trace:
89 I entered; step by step explored the road,
90 In darkness, from my desolate abode;[Page 321]
91 Till, winding through long passages of night,
92 I saw, at distance, a dim streak of light: —
93 It was the sun — the bright, the blessed beam
94 Of day! I knelt — I wept; — the glittering stream
95 Rolled on beneath me, as I left the cave,
96 Concealed in woods above the winding wave.
97 I rested on a verdant bank a while,
98 I saw around the summer landscape smile;
99 I gained a peasant's hut; nor dared to leave,
100 Till, with slow step, advanced the glimmering eve.
101 Remembering still affection's fondest hours,
102 I turned my footsteps to the city towers;
103 In pilgrim's dress, I traced the streets unknown:
104 No light in Leonora's lattice shone.
105 The morning came; the busy tumult swells;
106 Knolling to church, I heard the minster bells;
107 Involuntary to that scene I strayed,
108 Disguised, where first I saw my faithful maid.
109 I saw her, pallid, at the altar stand,
110 And yield, half-shrinking, her reluctant hand;
111 She turned her head; she saw my hollow eyes,
112 And knew me, wasted, wan, in my disguise;
113 She shrieked, and fell; — breathless, I left the fane
114 In agony — nor saw her form again;
115 And from that day her voice, her look were given,
116 Her name, her memory, to the winds of heaven.
117 Far off I bent my melancholy way,
118 Heart-sick and faint, and, in this gown of gray,
119 From every human eye my sorrows hid,
120 Unknown, amidst the tumult of Madrid.
121 Grief in my heart, despair upon my look,
122 With no companion save my beads and book,
123 My morsel with Affliction's sons to share,
124 To tend the sick and poor, my only care,[Page 322]
125 Forgotten, thus I lived; till day by day
126 Had worn nigh thirteen years of grief away.
127 One winter's night, when I had closed my cell,
128 And bid the labours of the day farewell,
129 An aged crone approached, with panting breath,
130 And bade me hasten to the house of death.
131 I came. With moving lips intent to pray,
132 A dying woman on a pallet lay;
133 Her lifted hands were wasted to the bone,
134 And ghastly on her look the lamp-light shone;
135 Beside the bed a pious daughter stands
136 Silent, and, weeping, kisses her pale hands.
137 Feebly she spoke, and raised her languid head,
138 Forgive, forgive! — they told me he was dead! —
139 But in the sunshine of that dreadful day,
140 That gave me to another's arms away,
141 I saw him, like a ghost, with deadly stare;
142 I saw his wasted eye-balls' ghastly glare;
143 I saw his lips (oh, hide them, God of love!)
144 I saw his livid lips, half-muttering, move,
145 To curse the maid — forgetful of her vow: —
146 Perhaps he lives to curse — to curse me now!
147 He lives to bless! I cried; and, drawing nigh,
148 Held up the crucifix; her heavy eye
149 She raised, and scarce pronounced — Does he yet live?
150 Can he his lost, his dying child forgive?
151 Will God forgive — the Lord who bled — will He? —
152 Ah, no, there is no mercy left for me!
153 Words were but vain, and colours all too faint,
154 That awful moment of despair to paint.
155 She knew me; her exhausted breath, with pain,
156 Drawing, she pressed my hand, and spoke again:
157 By a false guardian's cruel wiles deceived,
158 The tale of fraudful falsehood I believed,[Page 323]
159 And thought thee dead; he gave the stern command,
160 And bade me take the rich Antonio's hand.
161 I knelt, implored, embraced my guardian's knees;
162 Ruthless inquisitor, he held the keys
163 Of the dark torture-house.
216 Seville was the first place in Spain in which the Inquisition was established, in 1481.
Trembling for life,
164 Yes, I became a sad, heart-broken wife!
165 Yet curse me not; of every human care
166 Already my full heart has had its share:
167 Abandoned, left in youth to want and woe,
168 Oh! let these tears, that agonising flow,
169 Witness how deep ev'n now my heart is rent!
170 Yet one is lovely — one is innocent!
171 Protect, protect, (and faint in death she smiled)
172 When I am dead, protect my orphan child!
173 The dreadful prison, that so long detained
174 My wasting life, her dying words explained.
175 The wretched priest, who wounded me by stealth,
176 Bartered her love, her innocence for wealth!
177 I laid her bones in earth; the chanted hymn
178 Echoed along the hollow cloister dim;
179 I heard, far off, the bell funereal toll,
180 And sorrowing said: Now peace be with her soul!
181 Far o'er the Western Ocean I conveyed,
182 And Indiana called the orphan maid;
183 Beneath my eye she grew, and, day by day,
184 Seemed, grateful, every kindness to repay.
185 Renouncing Spain, her cruelties and crimes,
186 Amid untutored tribes, in distant climes,
187 'Twas mine to spread the light of truth, or save
188 From stripes and torture the poor Indian slave.
189 I saw thee, young and innocent, alone,
190 Cast on the mercies of a race unknown;[Page 324]
191 I saw, in dark adversity's cold hour,
192 Thy virtues blooming, like a winter's flower;
193 From chains and slavery I redeemed thy youth,
194 Poured on thy mental sight the beams of truth;
195 By thy warm heart and mild demeanour won,
196 Called thee my other child — my age's son.
197 I need not tell the sequel; — not unmoved
198 Poor Indiana heard thy tale, and loved;
199 Some sympathy a kindred fate might claim;
200 Your years, your fortunes, and your friend the same;
201 Both early of a parent's care bereft,
202 Both strangers in a world of sadness left;
203 I marked each slowly-struggling thought; I shed
204 A tear of love paternal on each head;
205 And, while I saw her timid eyes incline,
206 Blessed the affection that had made her thine!
207 Here let the murmurs of despondence cease:
208 There is a God — believe — and part in peace!
209 Rich hues illumed the track of dying day
210 As the great sun sank in the western bay,
211 And only its last light yet lingering shone,
212 Upon the highest palm-tree's feathery cone;
213 When at a distance on the dewy plain,
214 In mingled group appeared an Indian train;
215 Men, women, children, round Anselmo press,
216 Farewell! they cried. He raised his hand to bless,
217 And said: My children, may the God above
218 Still lead you in the paths of peace and love;
219 To-morrow, we must part; — when I am gone,
220 Raise on this spot a cross, and place a stone,
221 That tribes unborn may some memorial have,
222 When I far off am mouldering in the grave,
223 Of that poor messenger, who tidings bore
224 Of Gospel-mercy to your distant shore. [Page 325]
225 The crowd retired; along the twilight gray,
226 The condor kept its solitary way,
227 The fire-flies shone, when to the hermit's cell
228 Who hastens but the minstrel Zarinel!
229 In foreign lands, far from his native home,
230 'Twas his, a gay, romantic youth, to roam,
231 With a light cittern o'er his shoulders slung,
232 Where'er he passed he played, and loved, and sung;
233 And thus accomplished, late had joined the train
234 Of gallant soldiers on the southern plain.
235 Father, he cried, uncertain of the fate
236 That may to-morrow's toilsome march await,
237 For long will be the road, I would confess
238 Some secret thoughts that on my bosom press.
239 They are of one I left, an Indian maid,
240 Whose trusting love my careless heart betrayed.
241 Say, may I speak?
241 Say on, the father cried,
242 Nor be to penitence all hope denied.
243 Then hear, Anselmo! From a very child
244 I loved all fancies marvellous and wild;
245 I turned from truth, to listen to the lore
246 Of many an old and fabling troubadour.
247 Thus, with impassioned heart, and wayward mind,
248 To dreams and shapes of shadowy things resigned,
249 I left my native vales and village home,
250 Wide o'er the world a minstrel boy to roam.
251 I never shall forget the day, the hour,
252 When, all my soul resigned to Fancy's power,
253 First, from the snowy Pyrenees, I cast
254 My labouring vision o'er the landscape vast,
255 And saw beneath my feet long vapours float,
256 Streams, mountains, woods, and ocean's mist remote. [Page 326]
257 There once I met a soldier, poor and old,
258 Who tales of Cortes and Bilboa told,
259 And this new world; he spoke of Indian maids,
260 Rivers like seas, and forests whose deep shades
261 Had never yet been pierced by morning ray,
262 And how the green bird mocked, and talked all day.
263 Imagination thus, in colours new,
264 This distant world presented to my view;
265 Young, and enchanted with the fancied scene,
266 I crossed the toiling seas that roared between,
267 And with ideal images impressed,
268 Stood on these unknown shores a wondering guest.
269 Still to romantic phantasies resigned,
270 I left Callao's crowded port behind,
271 And climbed the mountains which their shadow threw
272 Upon the lessening summits of Peru.
273 Some sheep the armed peasants drove before,
274 That all our food through the wild passes bore,
275 Had wandered in the frost-smoke of the morn,
276 Far from the track; I blew the signal horn —
277 But echo only answered: 'mid the snows,
278 Wildered and lost, I saw the evening close.
279 The sun was setting in the crimson west;
280 In all the earth I had no home of rest;
281 The last sad light upon the ice-hills shone;
282 I seemed forsaken in a world unknown;
283 How did my cold and sinking heart rejoice,
284 When, hark! methought I heard a human voice!
285 It might be some wild Indian's roving troop,
286 Or the dread echo of their distant whoop;
287 Still it was human, and I seemed to find
288 Again some commerce with remote mankind.
289 The voice comes nearer, rising through the shade —
290 Is it the song of some rude mountain-maid? [Page 327]
291 And now I heard the tread of hastening feet,
292 And, in the western glen, a Llama bleat.
293 I listened — all is still; but hark! again
294 Near and more near is heard the welcome strain;
295 It is a wild maid's carolling, who seeks
296 Her wandering Llama 'midst the snowy peaks:
297 Truant, she cried, thy lurking place is found!
298 With languid touch I waked the cittern's sound,
299 And soon a maid, by the pale light, I saw
300 Gaze breathless with astonishment and awe:
301 What instant terrors to her fancy rose,
302 Ha! is it not the Spirit of the snows!
303 But when she saw me, weary, cold, and weak,
304 Stretch forth my hand (for now I could not speak),
305 She pitied, raised me from the snows, and led
306 My faltering footsteps to her father's shed;
307 The Llama followed with her tinkling bell;
308 The dwelling rose within a craggy dell,
309 O'erhung with icy summits. To be brief,
310 She was the daughter of an aged chief;
311 He, by her gentle voice to pity won,
312 Showed mercy, for himself had lost a son.
313 The father spoke not; by the pine-wood blaze,
314 The daughter stood, and turned a cake of maize;
315 And then, as sudden shone the light, I saw
316 Such features as no artist hand might draw.
317 Her form, her face, her symmetry, her air,
318 Father! thy age must such recital spare: —
319 She saved my life; and kindness, if not love,
320 Might sure in time the coldest bosom move!
321 Mine was not cold; she loved to hear me sing,
322 And sometimes touched with playful hand the string;
323 And when I waked some melancholy strain,
324 She wept, and smiled, and bade me sing again. [Page 328]
325 So many a happy day, in this deep glen,
326 Far from the noise of life, and sounds of men,
327 Was passed! Nay, father, the sad sequel hear:
328 'Twas now the leafy spring-time of the year —
329 Ambition called me: true, I knew to part
330 Would break her generous, warm, and trusting heart;
331 True, I had vowed, but now estranged and cold,
332 She saw my look, and shuddered to behold: —
333 She would go with me, leave the lonely glade
334 Where she grew up, but my stern voice forbade;
335 She hid her face and wept: Go then away,
336 (Father, methinks, ev'n now, I hear her say)
337 Go to thy distant land, forget this tear,
338 Forget these rocks, forget I once was dear;
339 Fly to the world, o'er the wide ocean fly,
340 And leave me unremembered here to die!
341 Yet to my father should I all relate,
342 Death, instant death, would be a traitor's fate!
343 Nor fear, nor pity moved my stubborn mind,
344 I left her sorrows and the scene behind;
345 I sought Valdivia on the southern plain,
346 And joined the careless military train;
347 Oh! ere I sleep, thus, lowly on my knee,
348 Father, I absolution crave from thee!
349 Anselmo spoke, with look and voice severe:
350 Yes, thoughtless youth, my absolution hear.
351 First, by deep penitence the wrong atone,
352 Then absolution ask from God alone!
353 Yet stay, and to my warning voice attend,
354 And hear me as a father, and a friend.
355 Let Truth severe be wayward Fancy's guide,
356 Let stern-eyed Conscience o'er each thought preside;
357 The passions, that on noblest natures prey,
358 Oh! cast them, like corroding bonds, away! [Page 329]
359 Disdain to act mean falsehood's coward part,
360 And let religion dignify thine art.
361 If, by thy bed, thou seest at midnight stand
362 Pale Conscience, pointing, with terrific hand,
363 To deeds of darkness done, whilst, like a corse,
364 To shake thy soul, uprises dire Remorse;
365 Fly to God's mercy, fly, ere yet too late —
366 Perhaps one hour marks thy eternal fate;
367 Let the warm tear of deep contrition flow,
368 The heart obdurate melt, like softening snow,
369 The last vain follies of thy youth deplore,
370 Then go, in secret weep, and sin no more!
371 The stars innumerous in their watches shone —
372 Anselmo knelt before the cross alone.
373 Ten thousand glowing orbs their pomp displayed,
374 Whilst, looking up, thus silently he prayed: —
375 Oh! how oppressive to the aching sense,
376 How fearful were this vast magnificence,
377 This prodigality of glory, spread
378 Above a poor and dying emmet's head,
379 That toiled his transient hour upon the shore
380 Of mortal life, and then was seen no more;
381 If man beheld, on his terrific throne,
382 A dark, cold, distant Deity, alone!
383 Felt no relating, no endearing tie,
384 That Hope might upwards raise her glistening eye,
385 And think, with deep unutterable bliss,
386 In yonder radiant realm my kingdom is!
387 More glorious than those orbs that silent roll,
388 Shines Heaven's redeeming mercy on the soul —
389 Oh, pure effulgence of unbounded love!
390 In Thee, I think — I feel — I live — I move;
391 Yet when, O Thou, whose name is Love and Light,
392 When will thy Dayspring on these realms of night[Page 330]
393 Arise! Oh! when shall severed nations raise
394 One hallelujah of triumphant praise,
395 Tibet on Fars, Andes on Atlas call,
396 And "roll the loud hosannah" round the ball!
397 Soon may Thy kingdom come, that love, and peace,
398 And charity, may bid earth's chidings cease!
399 Meantime, in life or death, through good or ill,
400 Thy poor and feeble servant, I fulfil,
401 As best I may, Thy high and holy will,
402 Till, weary, on the world my eyelids close,
403 And I enjoy my long and last repose!

CANTO FOURTH.

ARGUMENT.

Assembly of Indian warriors — Caupolican, Ongolmo, Teucapel, Mountain-chief — Song of the Indian Wizard — White woman and child.

1 Far in the centre of the deepest wood,
2 The assembled fathers of their country stood.
3 'Twas midnight now; the pine-wood fire burned red,
4 And to the leaves a shadowy glimmer spread;
5 The struggling smoke, or flame with fitful glance,
6 Obscured, or showed, some dreadful countenance;
7 And every warrior, as his club he reared,
8 With larger shadow, indistinct, appeared;
9 While more terrific, his wild locks and mien,
10 And fierce eye, through the quivering smoke, was seen.
11 In sea-wolf's skin, here Mariantu stood;
12 Gnashed his white teeth, impatient, and cried, blood!
13 His lofty brow, with crimson feathers bound,
14 Here, brooding death, the huge Ongolmo frowned;[Page 331]
15 And, like a giant of no earthly race,
16 To his broad shoulders heaved his ponderous mace.
17 With lifted hatchet, as in act to fell,
18 Here stood the young and ardent Teucapel.
19 Like a lone cypress, stately in decay,
20 When time has worn its summer boughs away,
21 And hung its trunk with moss and lichens sere,
22 The Mountain-warrior rested on his spear.
23 And thus, and at this hour, a hundred chiefs,
24 Chosen avengers of their country's griefs;
25 Chiefs of the scattered tribes that roam the plain,
26 That sweeps from Andes to the western main,
27 Their country-gods, around the coiling smoke,
28 With sacrifice, and silent prayers, invoke.
29 For all, at first, were silent as the dead;
30 The pine was heard to whisper o'er their head,
31 So stood the stern assembly; but apart,
32 Wrapped in the spirit of his fearful art,
33 Alone, to hollow sounds of hideous hum,
34 The wizard-seer struck his prophetic drum.
35 Silent they stood, and watched with anxious eyes,
36 What phantom-shape might from the ground arise;
37 No voices came, no spectre-form appeared;
38 A hollow sound, but not of winds, was heard
39 Among the leaves, and distant thunder low,
40 Which seemed like moans of an expiring foe.
41 His crimson feathers quivering in the smoke,
42 Then, with loud voice, first Mariantu spoke:
43 Hail we the omen! Spirits of the slain,
44 I hear your voices! Mourn, devoted Spain!
45 Pale-visaged tyrants! still, along our coasts,
46 Shall we despairing mark your iron hosts!
47 Spirits of our brave fathers, curse the race
48 Who thus your name, your memory disgrace! [Page 332]
49 No; though yon mountain's everlasting snows
50 In vain Almagro's
217 The first Spaniard who visited Chili. He entered it by the dreadful passage of the snows of the Andes; but afterwards the passage was attempted through the desert of Atacama.
toilsome march oppose;
51 Though Atacama's long and wasteful plain
52 Be heaped with blackening carcases in vain;
53 Though still fresh hosts those snowy summits scale,
54 And scare the Llamas with their glittering mail;
55 Though sullen castles lour along our shore;
56 Though our polluted soil be drenched with gore;
57 Insolent tyrants! we, prepared to die,
58 Your arms, your horses, and your gods, defy!
59 He spoke: the warriors stamped upon the ground,
60 And tore the feathers that their foreheads bound.
61 Insolent tyrants! burst the general cry,
62 We, met for vengeance — we, prepared to die,
63 Your arms, your horses, and your gods, defy!
64 Then Teucapel, with warm emotion, cried:
65 This hatchet never yet in blood was dyed;
66 May it be buried deep within my heart,
67 If living from the conflict I depart,
68 Till loud, from shore to shore, is heard one cry,
69 See! in their gore where the last tyrants lie!
70 The Mountain-warrior: Oh, that I could raise
71 The hatchet too, as in my better days,
72 When victor on Maypocha's banks I stood;
73 And while the indignant river rolled in blood,
74 And our swift arrows hissed like rushing rain,
75 I cleft Almagro's iron helm in twain!
76 My strength is well-nigh gone! years marked with woe
77 Have o'er me passed, and bowed my spirit low!
78 Alas, I have no son! Beloved boy,
79 Thy father's last, best hope, his pride, his joy! [Page 333]
80 Oh, hadst thou lived, sole object of my prayers,
81 To guard my waning life, and these gray hairs,
82 How bravely hadst thou now, in manhood's pride,
83 Swung the uplifted war-club by my side!
84 But the Great Spirit willed not! Thou art gone;
85 And, weary, on this earth I walk alone;
86 Thankful if I may yield my latest breath,
87 And bless my country in the pangs of death!
88 With words deliberate, and uplifted hand,
89 Mild to persuade, yet dauntless to command,
90 Raising his hatchet high, Caupolican
91 Surveyed the assembled chiefs, and thus began:
92 Friends, fathers, brothers, dear and sacred names!
93 Your stern resolve each ardent look proclaims;
94 On then to conquest; let one hope inspire,
95 One spirit animate, one vengeance fire!
96 Who doubts the glorious issue! To our foes
97 A tenfold strength and spirit we oppose.
98 In them no god protects his mortal sons,
99 Or speaks, in thunder, from their roaring guns.
100 Nor come they children of the radiant sky;
101 But, like the wounded snake, to writhe and die.
102 Then, rush resistless on their prostrate bands,
103 Snatch the red lightning from their feeble hands,
104 And swear to the great spirits, hovering near,
105 Who now this awful invocation hear,
106 That we shall never see our household hearth,
107 Till, like the dust, we sweep them from the earth.
108 But vain our strength, that idly, in the fight,
109 Tumultuous wastes its ineffectual might,
110 Unless to one the hatchet we confide;
111 Let one our numbers, one our counsels guide.
112 And, lo! for all that in this world is dear,
113 I raise this hatchet, raise it high, and swear,[Page 334]
114 Never again to lay it down, till we,
115 And all who love this injured land, are free!
116 At once the loud acclaim tumultuous ran:
117 Our spears, our life-blood, for Caupolican!
118 With thee, for all that in this world is dear,
119 We lift our hatchets, lift them high, and swear,
120 Never again to lay them down, till we,
121 And all who love this injured land, are free!
122 Then thus the chosen chief: Bring forth the slave,
123 And let the death-dance recreate the brave.
124 Two warriors led a Spanish captive, bound
125 With thongs; his eyes were fixed upon the ground.
126 Dark cypresses the mournful spot inclose:
127 High in the midst an ancient mound arose,
128 Marked on each side with monumental stones,
129 And white beneath with skulls and scattered bones.
130 Four poniards, on the mound, encircling stood,
131 With points erect, dark with forgotten blood.
132 Forthwith, with louder voice, the chief commands:
133 Bring forth the lots, unbind the captive's hands;
134 Then north, towards his country, turn his face,
135 And dig beneath his feet a narrow space.
218 The reader is referred to Molina for a particular description of the war sacrifice, which is very striking and poetical.
136 Caupolican uplifts his axe, and cries:
137 Gods, of our land be yours this sacrifice! —
138 Now, listen, warriors! — and forthwith commands
139 To place the billets in the captive's hands —
140 Soldier, cast in the lot!
140 With looks aghast,
141 The captive in the trench a billet cast.
142 Soldier, declare, who leads the arms of Spain,
143 Where Santiago frowns upon the plain? [Page 335]
CAPTIVE.
144 Villagra!
WARRIOR.
144 Earth upon the billet heap;
145 So may a tyrant's heart be buried deep!
146 The dark woods echoed to the long acclaim,
147 Accursed be his nation and his name!
WARRIOR.
148 Captive, declare who leads the Spanish bands,
149 Where the proud fortress shades Coquimbo's sands.
CAPTIVE.
150 Ocampo!
WARRIOR.
150 Earth upon the billet heap;
151 So may a tyrant's heart be buried deep!
152 The dark woods echoed to the long acclaim,
153 Accursed be his nation and his name!
WARRIOR.
154 Cast in the lot.
154 Again, with looks aghast,
155 The captive in the trench a billet cast.
156 Pronounce his name who here pollutes the plain,
157 The leader of the mailed hosts of Spain!
CAPTIVE.
158 Valdivia!
158 At that name a sudden cry
159 Burst forth, and every lance was lifted high. [Page 336]
WARRIOR.
160 Valdivia!
160 Earth upon the billet heap;
161 So may a tyrant's heart be buried deep!
162 The dark woods echoed to the long acclaim,
163 Accursed be his nation and his name!
164 And now loud yells, and whoops of death resound;
165 The shuddering captive ghastly gazed around,
166 When the huge war-club smote him to the ground.
167 Again deep stillness hushed the listening crowd,
168 While the prophetic wizard sang aloud.
SONG TO THE GOD OF WAR.
169 By thy habitation dread,
170 In the valley of the dead,
171 Where no sun, nor day, nor night,
172 Breaks the red and dusky light;
173 By the grisly troops, that ride,
174 Of slaughtered Spaniards, at thy side, —
175 Slaughtered by the Indian spear,
176 Mighty Epananum,
219 Name of the War-deity.
hear!
177 Hark, the battle! Hark, the din!
178 Now the deeds of Death begin!
179 The Spaniards come, in clouds! above,
180 I hear their hoarse artillery move!
181 Spirits of our fathers slain,
182 Haste, pursue the dogs of Spain!
183 The noise was in the northern sky!
184 Haste, pursue! They fly — they fly!
185 Now from the cavern's secret cell,
186 Where the direst phantoms dwell,[Page 337]
187 See they rush,
220 Terrific imaginary beings, called "man-animals," that leave their caves by night, and scatter pestilence and death as they fly. — See Molina.
and, riding high,
188 Break the moonlight as they fly;
189 And, on the shadowed plain beneath,
190 Shoot, unseen, the shafts of Death!
191 O'er the devoted Spanish camp,
192 Like a vapour, dark and damp,
193 May they hover, till the plain
194 Is hid beneath the countless slain;
195 And none but silent women tread
196 From corse to corse, to seek the dead!
197 The wavering fire flashed with expiring light,
198 When shrill and hollow, through the cope of night,
199 A distant shout was heard; at intervals,
200 Increasing on the listening ear it falls.
201 It ceased; when, bursting from the thickest wood,
202 With lifted axe, two gloomy warriors stood;
203 Wan in the midst, with dark and streaming hair,
204 Blown by the winds upon her bosom bare,
205 A woman, faint from terror's wild alarms,
206 And folding a white infant in her arms,
207 Appeared. Each warrior stooped his lance to gaze
208 On her pale looks, seen ghastlier through the blaze.
209 Save! she exclaimed, with harrowed aspect wild;
210 Oh, save my innocent, my helpless child!
211 Then fainting fell, as from death's instant stroke;
212 Caupolican, with stern inquiry, spoke:
213 Whence come, to interrupt our awful rite,
214 At this dread hour, the warriors of the night?
215 From ocean.
215 Who is she who fainting lies,
216 And now scarce lifts her supplicating eyes? [Page 338]
217 The Spanish ship went down; the seamen bore,
218 In a small boat, this woman to the shore:
219 They fell beneath our hatchets, — and again,
220 We gave them back to the insulted main.
221 "Render them back upon the insulted ocean. " — Coleridge.
221 The child and woman — of a race we hate —
222 Warriors, 'tis yours, here to decide their fate.
223 Vengeance! aloud fierce Mariantu cried:
224 Let vengeance on the race be satisfied!
225 Let none of hated Spanish blood remain,
226 Woman or child, to violate our plain!
227 Amid that dark and bloody scene, the child
228 Stretched to the mountain-chief his hands and smiled.
229 A starting tear of pity dimmed the eye
230 Of the old warrior, though he knew not why.
231 Oh, think upon your little ones! he cried,
232 Nor be compassion to the weak denied.
233 Caupolican then fixed his aspect mild
234 On the white woman and her shrinking child,
235 Then firmly spoke: —
235 White woman, we were free,
236 When first thy brethren of the distant sea
237 Came to our shores! White woman, theirs the guilt!
238 Theirs, if the blood of innocence be spilt!
239 Yet blood we seek not, though our arms oppose
240 The hate of foreign and remorseless foes;
241 Thou camest here a captive, so abide,
242 Till the Great Spirit shall our cause decide.
243 He spoke: the warriors of the night obey;
244 And, ere the earliest streak of dawning day,
245 They lead her from the scene of blood away.
[Page 339]

CANTO FIFTH.

ARGUMENT.

Ocean Cave — Spanish Captive — Wild Indian Maid — Genius of Andes, and Spirits.

1 'Tis dawn: — the distant Andes' rocky spires,
2 One after one, have caught the orient fires.
3 Where the dun condor shoots his upward flight,
4 His wings are touched with momentary light.
5 Meantime, beneath the mountains' glittering heads,
6 A boundless ocean of gray vapour spreads,
7 That o'er the champaign, stretching far below,
8 Moves now, in clustered masses, rising slow,
9 Till all the living landscape is displayed
10 In various pomp of colour, light, and shade,
11 Hills, forests, rivers, lakes, and level plain,
12 Lessening in sunshine to the southern main.
13 The Llama's fleece fumes with ascending dew;
14 The gem-like humming-birds their toils renew;
15 And there, by the wild river's devious side,
16 The tall flamingo, in its crimson pride,
17 Stalks on, in richest plumage bright arrayed,
18 With snowy neck superb,
222 The neck of the flamingo is white, and its wings of rich and beautiful crimson.
and legs of lengthening shade.
19 Sad maid, for others may the valleys ring,
20 For other ears the birds of morning sing;
21 For other eyes the palms in beauty wave,
22 Dark is thy prison in the ocean-cave!
23 Amid that winding cavern's inmost shade,
24 A dripping rill its ceaseless murmur made:[Page 340]
25 Masses of dim-discovered crags aloof,
26 Hung, threatening, from the vast and vaulted roof:
27 And through a fissure, in its glimmering height,
28 Seen like a star, appeared the distant light;
29 Beneath the opening, where the sunbeams shine,
30 Far down, the rock-weed hung its slender twine.
31 Here, pale and bound, the Spanish captive lay,
32 Till morn on morn, in silence, passed away;
33 When once, as o'er her sleeping child she hung,
34 And sad her evening supplication sung;
35 Like a small gem, amidst the gloom of night,
36 A glow-worm shot its green and trembling light, —
37 And, 'mid the moss and craggy fragments, shed
38 Faint lustre o'er her sleeping infant's head;
39 And hark! a voice — a woman's voice, its sound
40 Dies in faint echoes, 'mid the vault profound:
41 Let us pity the poor white maid!
223 From Mungo Park.
42 She has no mother near!
43 No friend to dry her tear!
44 Upon the cold earth she is laid:
45 Let us pity the poor white maid!
46 It seemed the burden of a song of woe;
47 And see, across the gloom an Indian girl move slow!
48 Her nearer look is sorrowful, yet mild,
49 Her hanging locks are wreathed with rock-weed wild;
50 Gently she spoke, Poor Christian, dry thy tear:
51 Art thou afraid? all are not cruel here.
52 Oh! still more wretched may my portion be,
53 Stranger, if I could injure thine and thee!
54 And, lo! I bring, from banks and thickets wild,
55 Wood-strawberries, and honey for thy child. [Page 341]
56 Whence, who art thou, who, in this fearful place,
57 Does comfort speak to one of Spanish race?
INDIAN.
58 It is an Indian maid, who chanced to hear
59 Thy tale of sorrow, as she wandered near:
60 I loved a white man once; but he is flown,
61 And now I wander heartless and alone.
62 I traced the dark and winding way beneath:
63 But well I know to lead thee hence were death.
64 Oh, say! what fortunes cast thee o'er the wave,
65 On these sad shores perhaps to find a grave?
SPANISH WOMAN.
66 Three years have passed since a fond husband left
67 Me and this infant, of his love bereft;
68 Him I have followed; need I tell thee more,
69 Cast helpless, friendless, hopeless, on this shore.
INDIAN.
70 Oh! did he love thee, then? Let death betide,
71 Yes, from this cavern I will be thy guide.
72 Nay, do not shrink! from Caracalla's bay,
73 Ev'n now, the Spaniards wind their march this way.
74 As late in yester eve I paced the shore
75 I heard their signal-guns at distance roar.
76 Wilt thou not follow? He will shield thy child, —
77 The Christian's God, — through passes dark and wild
78 He will direct thy way! Come, follow me;
79 Oh, yet be loved, be happy, and be free!
80 But I, an outcast on my native plain,
81 The poor Olola ne'er shall smile again!
82 So guiding from the cave, when all was still,
83 And pointing to the furthest glimmering hill,[Page 342]
84 The Indian led, till, on Itata's side,
85 The Spanish camp and night-fires they descried:
86 Then on the stranger's neck that wild maid fell,
87 And said, Thy own gods prosper thee, farewell!
88 The owl
224 The owl is an object of peculiar dread to the Indian of Chili.
is hooting overhead; below,
89 On dusky wing, the vampire-bat sails slow.
90 Ongolmo stood before the cave of night,
91 Where the great wizard sat: — a lurid light
92 Was on his face; twelve giant shadows frowned,
93 His mute and dreadful ministers, around.
94 Each eye-ball, as in life, was seen to roll,
95 Each lip to move; but not a living soul
96 Was there, save bold Ongolmo and the seer.
97 The warrior half advanced his lifted spear,
98 Then spoke: Dread master of the mighty lore!
99 Say, shall the Spaniards welter in their gore?
100 Let these dark ministers the answer tell,
101 Replied the master of the mighty spell.
102 Then every giant-shadow, as it stood,
103 Lifted on high a skull that dropped with blood.
104 Yet more, the impatient warrior cried; yet more!
105 Say, shall I live, and drink the tyrant's gore?
106 'Twas silence. Speak! he cried: none made reply.
107 At once strange thunder shook the distant sky,
108 And all was o'er; the grisly shapes are flown,
109 And the grim warrior stands in the wild woods alone.
110 St Pedro's church had rung its midnight chimes,
111 And the gray friars were chanting at their primes,
112 When winds, as of a rushing hurricane,
113 Shook the tall windows of the towered fane; —
114 Sounds more than earthly with the storm arose,
115 And a dire troop are passed to Andes' snows,
116 Where mighty spirits in mysterious ring
117 Their dread prophetic incantations sing,[Page 343]
118 Round Chillan's crater-smoke, whose lurid light
119 Streams high against the hollow cope of night.
120 Thy genius, Andes, towering o'er the rest,
121 Rose vast, and thus a phantom-shape addressed:
122 Who comes so swift amid the storm?
123 Ha! I know thy bloodless form,
124 I know thee, angel, who thou art,
125 By the hissing of thy dart!
126 'Tis Death, the king! the rocks around,
127 Hark! echo back the fearful sound; —
128 'Tis Death, the king! away, away!
129 The famished vulture scents its prey.
130 Spectre, hence! we cannot die —
131 Thy withering weapons we defy;
132 Dire and potent as thou art!
133 Then spoke the phantom of the uplifted dart:
134 Spirits who in darkness dwell,
135 I heard far off your secret spell!
136 Enough, on yonder fatal shore,
137 My fiends have drank your children's gore;
138 Lo! I come, and doom to fate
139 The murderers, and the foe you hate!
140 Of all who shook their hostile spears,
141 And marked their way through blood and tears,
142 (Now sleeping still on yonder plain)
143 But one — one only shall remain,
144 Ere thrice the morn shall shine again.
145 Then sang the mighty spirits. Thee, they sing,
146 Hail to thee, Death, all hail to Death, the king!
147 The penguin flaps her wings in gore,
148 Devoted Spain, along the shore.
149 Whence that shriek? with ghastly eyes,
150 Thy victor-chief abandoned lies!
151 Victor of the southern world,[Page 344]
152 Whose crimson banners were unfurled
153 O'er the silence of the waves, —
154 O'er a land of bleeding slaves!
155 Victor, where is now thy boast;
156 Thine iron steeds, thy mailed host?
157 Hark! hark! even now I hear his cries! —
158 Spirits, hence! — he dies! he dies!

CANTO SIXTH.

ARGUMENT.

The City of Conception — The City of Penco — Castle — Lautaro — Wild Indian Maid — Zarinel — Missionary.

1 The second moon had now begun to wane,
2 Since bold Valdivia left the southern plain;
3 Goal of his labours, Penco's port and bay,
4 Far gleaming to the summer sunset lay.
5 The wayworn veteran, who had slowly passed
6 Through trackless woods, or o'er savannahs vast,
7 With hope impatient sees the city spires
8 Gild the horizon, like ascending fires.
9 Now well-known sounds salute him, as more near
10 The citadel and battlements appear;
11 The approaching trumpets ring at intervals;
12 The trumpet answers from the rampart walls,
13 Where many a maiden casts an anxious eye,
14 Some long-lost object of her love to espy,
15 Or watches, as the evening light illumes
16 The points of lances, or the passing plumes. [Page 345]
17 The grating drawbridge and the portal-arch,
18 Now echo to the long battalion's march;
19 Whilst every eye some friend remembered greets,
20 Amid the gazing crowd that throngs the streets.
21 As bending o'er his mule, amid the throng,
22 Pensive and pale, Anselmo rode along,
23 How sacred, 'mid the noise of arms, appeared
24 His venerable mien and snowy beard!
25 Whilst every heart a silent prayer bestowed,
26 Slow to the convent's massy gate he rode:
27 Around, the brothers, gratulating, stand,
28 And ask for tidings of the southern land.
29 As from the turret tolls the vesper bell,
30 He seeks, a weary man, his evening cell,
31 No sounds of social cheer, no beds of state,
32 Nor gorgeous canopies his coming wait;
33 But o'er a little bread, with folded hands,
34 Thanking the God that gave, a while he stands;
35 Then, while all thoughts of earthly sorrow cease,
36 Upon his pallet lays him down in peace.
37 The scene how different, where the castle-hall
38 Rings to the loud triumphant festival:
39 A hundred torches blaze, and flame aloof,
40 Long quivering shadows streak the vaulted roof, —
41 Whilst, seen far off, the illumined windows throw
42 A splendour on the shore and seas below.
43 Amid his captains, in imperial state,
44 Beneath a crimson canopy, elate,
45 Valdivia sits — and, striking loud the strings,
46 The wandering ministrel of Valentia sings.
47 For Chili conquered, fill the bowl again!
48 For Chili conquered, raise the heroic strain!
49 Lautaro left the hall of jubilee
50 Unmarked, and wandered by the moonlit sea:[Page 346]
51 He heard far off, in dissonant acclaim,
52 The song, the shout, and his loved country's name.
53 As swelled at times the trump's insulting sound,
54 He raised his eyes impatient from the ground;
55 Then smote his breast indignantly, and cried,
56 Chili! my country; would that I had died
57 On the sad night of that eventful day
58 When on the ground my murdered father lay!
59 I should not then, dejected and alone,
60 Have thought I heard his injured spirit groan.
61 Ha! was it not his form — his face — his hair?
62 Hold, soldier! stern, inhuman soldier, spare!
63 Ha! is it not his blood? Avenge, he cries,
64 Avenge, my son, these wounds! He faints — he dies!
65 Leave me, dread shadow! Can I then forget
66 My father's look — his voice? He beckons yet!
67 Now on that glimmering rock I see him stand:
68 Avenge! he cries, and waves his dim-seen hand!
69 Thus mused the youth, distempered and forlorn,
70 When, hark! the sound as of a distant horn
71 Swells o'er the surge! he turned his look around,
72 And still, with many a pause, he heard the sound:
73 It came from yonder rocks; and, list! what strain
74 Breaks on the silence of the sleeping main?
75 I heard the song of gladness;
76 It seemed but yesterday,
77 But it turned my thoughts to madness,
78 So soon it died away:
79 I sound my sea-shell; but in vain I try
80 To bring back that enchanting harmony!
81 Hark! heard ye not the surges say,
82 Oh! heartless maid, what canst thou do?
83 O'er the moon-gleaming ocean, I'll wander away,
84 And paddle to Spain in my light canoe!
[Page 347]
85 The youth drew near, by the strange accents led,
86 Where in a cave, wild sea-weeds round her head,
87 And holding a large sea-conch in her hand,
88 He saw, with wildering air, an Indian maiden stand.
89 A tattered poncho o'er her shoulders hung;
90 On either side her long black locks were flung;
91 And now by the moon's glimmer, he espies
92 Her high cheek-bones, and bright but hollow eyes.
93 Lautaro spoke: Oh! say what cruel wrong
94 Weighs on thy heart, maiden, what bodes thy song?
95 She answered not, but blew her shell again;
96 Then thus renewed the desultory strain:
97 Yes, yes, we must forget! the world is wide;
98 My music now shall be the dashing tide:
99 In the calm of the deep I will frolic and swim —
100 With the breath of the South o'er the sea-blossom
225 The "sea-blossom," Holothuria, known to seamen by the name of "Portuguese man of war," is among the most striking and beautiful objects in the calms of the Southern ocean.
skim.
101 If ever, stranger, on thy way,
102 Sounds, more than earthly sweet, thy soul should move,
103 It is the youth! Oh! do not say —
104 That poor Olola died for love.
105 Lautaro stretched his hand; she said, Adieu!
106 And o'er the glimmering rocks like lightning flew.
107 He followed, and still heard at distance swell
108 The lessening echoes of that mournful shell.
109 It ceased at once; and now he heard no more
110 Than the sea's murmur dying on the shore.
111 Olola! — ha! his sister had that name!
112 Oh, horrid fancies! shake not thus his frame!
113 All night he wandered by the desert main,
114 To catch the melancholy sounds again.
115 No torches blaze in Penco's castled hall
116 That echoed to the midnight festival. [Page 348]
117 The weary soldiers by their toils oppressed,
118 Had now retired to silence and to rest.
119 The minstrel only, who the song had sung
120 Of noble Cid, as o'er the strings he hung,
121 Upon the instrument had fall'n asleep,
122 Weary, and now was hushed in slumbers deep.
123 Tracing the scenes long past, in busy dreams
124 Again he wanders by his native streams;
125 Or sits, his evening saraband to sing
126 To the clear Garonne's gentle murmuring.
127 Cold o'er the fleckered clouds the morning broke
128 Aslant ere from his slumbers he awoke;
129 Still as he sat, nor yet had left the place,
130 The first dim light fell on his pallid face.
131 He wakes — he gazes round — the dawning day
132 Comes from the deep, in garb of cloudy gray.
133 The woods with crow of early turkeys ring,
134 The glancing birds beneath the castle sing,
135 And the sole sun his rising orb displays,
136 Radiant and reddening, through the scattered haze.
137 To recreate the languid sense a while,
138 When earth and ocean wore their sweetest smile,
139 He wandered to the beach: the early air
140 Blew soft, and lifted, as it blew, his hair;
141 Flushed was his cheek; his faded eye, more bright,
142 Shone with a faint but animated light,
143 While the soft morning ray seemed to bestow
144 On his tired mind a transient kindred glow.
145 As thus, with shadow stretching o'er the sand,
146 He mused and wandered on the winding strand,
147 At distance tossed upon the tumbling tide,
148 A dark and floating substance he espied.
149 He stood, and where the eddying surges beat,
150 An Indian corse was rolled beneath his feet:[Page 349]
151 The hollow wave retired with sullen sound;
152 The face of that sad corse was to the ground;
153 It seemed a female, by the slender form;
154 He touched the hand — it was no longer warm;
155 He turned its face — O God! that eye, though dim,
156 Seemed with its deadly glare as fixed on him!
157 How sunk his shuddering sense, how changed his hue,
158 When poor Olola in that corse he knew!
159 Lautaro, rushing from the rocks, advanced;
160 His keen eye, like a startled eagle's glanced:
161 'Tis she! — he knew her by a mark impressed
162 From earliest infancy beneath her breast.
163 Oh, my poor sister! when all hopes were past
164 Of meeting, do we meet — thus meet — at last!
165 Then full on Zarinel, as one amazed,
166 With rising wrath and stern suspicion gazed;
167 For Zarinel still knelt upon the sand,
168 And to his forehead pressed the dead maid's hand.
169 Speak! whence art thou?
169 Pale Zarinel, his head
170 Upraising answered,
170 Peace is with the dead!
171 Him dost thou seek who injured thine and thee?
172 Here — strike the fell assassin — I am he!
173 Die! he exclaimed, and with convulsive start
174 Instant had plunged the dagger in his heart,
175 When the meek father, with his holy book,
176 And placid aspect, met his frenzied look.
177 He trembled — struck his brow — and, turning round,
178 Flung the uplifted dagger to the ground.
179 Then murmured: Father, Heaven has heard thy prayer —
180 But oh! the sister of my soul lies there!
181 The Christian's God has triumphed! father, heap
182 Some earth upon her bones, whilst I go weep! [Page 350]
183 Anselmo with calm brow approached the place,
184 And hastened with his staff his faltering pace:
185 Ho! child of guilt and wretchedness, he cried,
186 Speak! — Holy father, the sad youth replied,
187 God bade the seas the accusing victim roll
188 Dead at my feet, to teach my shuddering soul
189 Its guilt: Oh! father, holy father, pray
190 That heaven may take the deep, dire curse away!
191 Oh! yet, Anselmo cried, live and repent,
192 For not in vain was this dread warning sent;
193 The deep reproaches of thy soul I spare,
194 Go! seek Heaven's peace by penitence and prayer.
195 The youth arose, yet trembling from the shock,
196 And severed from the dead maid's hair a lock;
197 This to his heart with trembling hand he pressed,
198 And dried the salt-sea moisture on his breast.
199 They laid her limbs within the sea-beat grave,
200 And prayed: Her soul, O blessed Mary, save!

CANTO SEVENTH.

ARGUMENT.

Midnight — Valdivia's tent — Missionary — March to the Valley Arauco — First sight of assembled Indians.

1 The watchman on the tower his bugle blew,
2 And swelling to the morn the streamers flew;
3 The rampart-guns a dread alarum gave,
4 Smoke rolled, and thunder echoed o'er the wave;
5 When, starting from his couch, Valdivia cried,
6 What tidings? Of the tribes! a scout replied;
7 Ev'n now, prepared thy bulwarks to assail,
8 Their gathering numbers darken all the vale! [Page 351]
9 Valdivia called to the attendant youth,
10 Philip, he cried, belike thy words have truth;
11 The formidable host, by holy James,
12 Might well appal our priests and city dames!
13 Dost thou not fear? Nay — dost thou not reply?
14 Now by the rood, and all the saints on high,
15 I hold it sin that thou shouldst lift thy hand
16 Against thy brothers in thy native land!
17 But, as thou saidst, those mighty enemies
18 Me and my feeble legions would despise.
19 Yes, by our holy lady, thou shalt ride,
20 Spectator of their prowess, by my side!
21 Come life, come death, our battle shall display
22 Its ensigns to the earliest beam of day!
23 With louder summons ring the rampart-bell,
24 And haste the shriving father from his cell;
25 A soldier's heart rejoices in alarms:
26 And let the trump at midnight sound to arms!
27 And now, obedient to the chief's commands,
28 The gray-haired priest before the soldier stands.
29 Father, Valdivia cried, fierce are our foes, —
30 The last event of war God only knows; —
31 Let mass be sung; father, this very night
32 I would attend the high and holy rite.
33 Yet deem not that I doubt of victory,
34 Or place defeat or death before mine eye;
35 It blenches not! But, whatsoe'er befall,
36 Good father, I would part in peace with all.
37 So, tell Lautaro — his ingenuous mind
38 Perhaps may grieve, if late I seemed unkind: —
39 Hear my heart speak, though far from virtue's way
40 Ambition's lure hath led my steps astray,
41 No wanton exercise of barbarous power
42 Harrows my shrinking conscience at this hour. [Page 352]
43 If hasty passions oft my spirit fire,
44 They flash a moment and the next expire;
45 Lautaro knows it. There is somewhat more:
46 I would not, here — here, on this distant shore
47 (Should they, the Indian multitudes, prevail,
48 And this good sword and these firm sinews fail)
49 Amid my deadly enemies be found,
50 "Unhouseled, ananealed," upon the ground,
51 A dying man; — thy look, thy reverend age,
52 Might save my poor remains from barb'rous rage;
53 And thou may'st pay the last sad obsequies,
54 O'er the heaped earth where a brave soldier lies: —
55 So God be with thee!
55 By the torches' light,
56 The slow procession moves; the solemn rite
57 Is chanted: through the aisles and arches dim,
58 At intervals, is heard the imploring hymn.
226 It may be necessary here to say, that whenever the Spaniards founded a city, after the immediate walls of defence, their first object was to build a church, and to have, with as much pomp as possible, the ecclesiastical services performed. Hence the cathedrals founded by them in America were of transcendent beauty and magnificence.
59 Now all is still, that only you might hear —
60 (The tall and slender tapers burning clear,
61 Whose light Anselmo's palid brow illumes,
62 Now glances on the mailed soldier's plumes)
63 Hear, sounding far, only the iron tread,
64 That echoed through the cloisters of the dead.
65 Dark clouds are wandering o'er the heaven's wide way;
66 Now from the camp, at times, a horse's neigh
67 Breaks on the ear; and on the rampart height
68 The sentinel proclaims the middle watch of night.
69 By the dim taper's solitary ray,
70 Tired, in his tent, the sovereign soldier lay. [Page 353]
71 Meantime, as shadowy dreams arise, he roams
72 'Mid bright pavilions and imperial domes,
73 Where terraces, and battlements, and towers,
74 Glisten in air o'er rich romantic bowers.
75 Sudden the visionary pomp is past;
76 The vacant court sounds to the moaning blast;
77 A dismal vault appears, where, with swoll'n eyes,
78 As starting from their orbs, a dead man lies.
79 It is Almagro's
227 Almagro, who first penetrated into Chili, was afterwards strangled.
corse! — roll on, ye drums,
80 Lo! where the great, the proud Pizarro comes!
81 Her gold, her richest gems, let Fortune strew
82 Before the mighty conqueror of Peru!
83 Ah, turn, and see a dagger in his hand —
84 With ghastly look — see the assassin stand!
85 Pizarro falls;
228 Pizarro was assassinated.
— he welters in his gore!
86 Lord of the western world, art thou no more!
87 Valdivia, hark! — it was another groan!
88 Another shadow comes, it is thy own!
89 Ah, bind not thus his arms! — give, give him breath!
90 Wipe from his bleeding brow those damps of death!
91 Valdivia, starting, woke. He is alone:
92 The taper in his tent yet dimly shone.
93 Lautaro, haste! he cried; Lautaro, save
94 Thy dying master! Ah! is this the brave,
95 The haughty victor? Hush, the dream is past!
96 The early trumpets ring the second blast!
97 Arm, arm! Ev'n now, the impatient charger neighs!
98 Again, from tent to tent the trumpet brays!
99 By torch-light, then, Valdivia gave command,
100 Haste, let Del Oro take a chosen band,
101 With watchful caution, on his fleetest steed,
102 A troop observant on the heights to lead. [Page 354]
103 Now beautiful, beneath the heaven's gray arch,
104 Appeared the main battalion's moving march;
105 The banner of the cross was borne before,
106 And next, with aspect sad, and tresses hoar,
107 The holy man went thoughtfully and pressed
108 A crucifix, in silence, to his breast.
109 Valdivia, all in burnished steel arrayed,
110 Upon whose crest the morn's effulgence played,
111 Majestic reined his steed, and seemed alone,
112 Worthy the southern world's imperial throne.
113 His features through the barred casque that glow,
114 His pole-axe pendent from the saddle-bow;
115 His dazzling armour, and the glitter bright
116 Of his drawn sabre, in the orient light,
117 Speak him not, now, for knightly tournament
118 Arrayed, but on emprise of prowess bent,
119 And deeds of deadly strife. In blooming pride,
120 The attendant youth rode, pensive, by his side.
121 Their pennoned lances, waving in the wind,
122 Two hundred clanking horsemen tramped behind,
123 In iron harness clad. The bugles blew,
124 And high in air the sanguine ensigns flew.
125 The[ arbalasters] next, with cross-bows slung,
126 Marched, whilst the plumed Moors their cymbals swung.
127 Auxiliar-Indians here, a various train.
128 With spears and bows, darkened the distant plain;
129 Drums rolled, and fifes re-echoed shrill and clear,
130 At intervals, as near and yet more near,
131 While flags and intermingled halberds shine,
132 The long battalion drew its passing line.
133 Last rolled the heavy guns, a sable tier,
134 By Indians drawn, with matchmen in the rear;
135 And many a straggling mule and sumpter-train
136 Closed the embattled order on the plain,[Page 355]
137 Till nought beneath the azure sky appears
138 But the projecting points of scarce-discovered spears,
139 Slow up the hill, with floating vapours hoar,
140 Or by the blue lake's long retiring shore,
141 Now seen distinct, through the disparting haze,
142 The glittering file its bannered length displays;
143 Now winding from the woods, again appears
144 The moving line of matchlocks and of spears.
145 Part seen, part lost; the long illustrious march
146 Circling the swamp, now draws its various arch;
147 And seems, as on it moves, meandering slow,
148 A radiant segment of a living bow.
149 Five days the Spaniards, trooping in array,
150 O'er plains and headlands, held their eastern way.
151 On the sixth early dawn, with shuddering awe
152 And horror, in the last defile they saw
153 Ten pendent heads, from which the gore still run,
154 All gashed, and grim, and blackening in the sun.
155 These were the gallant troop that passed before,
156 The Indians'vast encampment to explore,
157 Led by Del Oro, now with many a wound
158 Pierced, and a headless trunk upon the ground.
159 The horses startled, as they tramped in blood;
160 The troops a moment half-recoiling stood.
161 But boots not now to pause, or to retire;
162 Valdivia's eye flashed with indignant fire:
163 Follow! he cried, brave comrades, to the hill!
164 And instant shouts the pealing valley fill.
165 And now, up to the hill's ascending crest,
166 With animated look and beating breast,
167 He urged his steed; when, wide beneath his eye,
168 He saw, in long expanse, Arauco's valley lie.
169 Far as the labouring sight could stretch its glance,
170 One undulating mass of club and lance,[Page 356]
171 One animated surface seemed to fill
172 The many-stirring scene from hill to hill:
173 To the deep mass he pointed with his sword,
174 Banner, advance! give out "Castile!" the word.
175 Instant the files advance, the trumpets bray,
176 And now the host in terrible array,
177 Ranged on the heights that overlook the plain,
178 Has halted!
178 But the task were long and vain
179 To tell what nations, from the seas that roar
180 Round Patagonia's melancholy shore;
181 From forests, brown with everlasting shades;
182 From rocks of sunshine, white with prone cascades;
183 From snowy summits, where the Llama roams,
184 Oft bending o'er the cataract as it foams;
185 From streams whose bridges
229 Rude hanging bridges, constructed by the natives.
tremble from the steep;
186 From lakes, in summer's sweetest light asleep;
187 Indians, of sullen brow and giant limb,
188 With clubs terrific, and with aspects grim,
189 Flocked fearless.
189 When they saw the Spanish line
190 Arrayed, and front to front, descending shine,
191 Burst, instant burst, the universal cry,
192 (Ten thousand spears uplifted to the sky) —
193 Tyrants, we come to conquer or to die!
194 Grim Mariantu led the Indian force
195 A-left; and, rushing to the foremost horse,
196 Hurled with unerring aim the involving thong,
197 Then fearless sprang amidst the mailed throng.
198 Valdivia saw the horse, entangled, reel,
199 And shouting, as he rode, Castile! Castile!
200 Led on the charge: like a descending flood,
201 It swept, till every spur was black with blood. [Page 357]
202 His force a-right, where Harratomac led,
203 A thousand spears went hissing overhead,
204 And feathered arrows, of each varying hue,
205 In glancing arch, beneath the sunbeams flew.
206 Dire was the strife, when ardent Teucapel
207 Advancing in the front of carnage fell.
208 At once, Ongolmo, Elicura, rushed,
209 And swaying their huge clubs together, crushed
210 Horseman and horse; then bathed their hands in gore,
211 And limb from limb the panting carcase tore.
212 Caupolican, where the main battle bleeds,
213 Hosts and succeeding hosts undaunted leads,
214 Till, torn and shattered by the ceaseless fire,
215 Thousands, with gnashing teeth, and clenched spears, expire.
216 Pierced by a hundred wounds, Ongolmo lies,
217 And grasps his club terrific as he dies.
218 With breathless expectation, on the height,
219 Lautaro watched the long and dubious fight:
220 Pale and resigned the meek man stood, and pressed
221 More close the holy image to his breast.
222 Now nearer to the fight Lautaro drew,
223 When on the ground a warrior met his view,
224 Upon whose features memory seemed to trace
225 A faint resemblance of his father's face;
226 O'er him a horseman, with collected might,
227 Raised his uplifted sword, in act to smite,
228 When the youth springing on, without a word,
229 Snatched from a soldier's wearied grasp his sword,
230 And smote the horseman through the crest: a yell
231 Of triumph burst, as to the ground he fell.
232 [Lautaro] shouted, On! brave brothers, on!
233 Scatter them like the snow! — the day is won!
234 Lo, I! [Lautaro], — Attacapac's son! [Page 358]
235 The Indians turn: again the battle bleeds,
236 Cleft are the helms and crushed the struggling steeds.
237 The bugle sounds, and faint with toil and heat,
238 Some straggling horsemen to the hills retreat.
239 Stand, brave companions! bold Valdivia cried,
240 And shook his sword, in recent carnage dyed;
241 Oh! droop not — droop not yet — all is not o'er —
242 Brave, faithful friends, one glorious sally more.
243 Where is Lautaro! leaps his willing sword
244 Now to avenge his long-indulgent lord!
245 He waited not for answer, but again
246 Spurred to the centre of the horrid plain.
247 Clubs, arrows, spears, the spot of death inclose,
248 And fainter now the Spanish shouts arose.
249 'Mid ghastly heaps of many a bleeding corse,
250 Lies the caparisoned and dying horse.
251 While still the rushing multitudes assail,
252 Vain is the fiery tube, the twisted mail!
253 The Spanish horsemen faint; long yells resound,
254 As the dragged ensign trails the gory ground:
255 Shout, for the chief is seized! — a thousand cries
256 Burst forth — Valdivia! for the sacrifice!
257 And lo, in silent dignity resigned,
258 The meek Anselmo, led in bonds, behind!
259 His hand upon his breast, young Zarinel
260 Amidst a group of mangled Indians fell;
261 The spear that to his heart a passage found
262 Left poor Olola's hair within the wound.
263 Now all is hushed, save where, at times, alone,
264 Deep midnight listens to a distant moan;
265 Save where the condors clamour, overhead,
266 And strike with sounding beaks the helmets of the dead.
[Page 359]

CANTO EIGHTH.

ARGUMENT.

Indian festival for victory — Old Warrior brought in wounded — Recognises his long-lost son, and dies — Discovery — Conclusion with the Old Warrior's funeral, and prophetic oration by the Missionary.

1 The morn returns, and, reddening, seems to shed
2 One ray of glory on the patriot-dead.
3 Round the dark stone, the victor-chiefs behold!
4 Still on their locks the gouts of gore hang cold!
5 There stands the brave Caupolican, the pride
6 Of Chili, young Lautaro, by his side!
7 Near the grim circle, pendent from the wood,
8 Twelve hundred Spanish heads are dripping blood.
9 Shrill sound the notes of death: in festive dance,
10 The Indian maids with myrtle boughs advance;
11 The tinkling sea-shells on their ancles ring,
12 As, hailing thus the victor-youth, they sing: —
SONG OF INDIAN MAIDS.
13 Oh, shout for Lautaro, the young and the brave!
14 The arm of whose strength was uplifted to save,
15 When the steeds of the strangers came rushing amain,
16 And the ghosts of our fathers looked down on the slain!
17 'Twas eve, and the noise of the battle was o'er,
18 Five thousand brave warriors were cold in their gore;
19 When, in front, young Lautaro invincible stood,
20 And the horses and iron-men rolled in their blood!
21 As the snows of the mountain are swept by the blast,
22 The earthquake of death o'er the white men has passed;
23 Shout, Chili, in triumph! the battle is won,
24 And we dance round the heads that are black in the sun!
25 Lautaro, as if wrapt in thought profound,
26 Oft turned an anxious look inquiring round. [Page 360]
27 He is not here! — Say, does my father live?
28 Ere eager voices could an answer give,
29 With faltering footsteps and declining head,
30 And slowly by an aged Indian led,
31 Wounded and weak the mountain chief appears:
32 Live, live! Lautaro cried, with bursting tears,
33 And fell upon his neck, and, kissing, pressed,
34 With folding arms, his gray hairs to his breast.
35 Oh, live! I am thy son — thy long-lost child!
36 The warrior raised his look, and faintly smiled;
37 Chili, my country, is avenged! he cried:
38 My son! — then sunk upon a shield — and died.
39 Lautaro knelt beside him, as he bowed,
40 And kissed his bleeding breast, and wept aloud.
41 The sounds of sadness through the circle ran,
42 When thus, with lifted axe, Caupolican:
43 What, for our fathers, brothers, children, slain,
44 Canst thou repay, ruthless, inhuman Spain?
45 Here, on the scene with recent slaughter red,
46 To sooth the spirits of the brave who bled,
47 Raise we, to-day, the war-feast of the dead.
48 Bring forth the chief in bonds! Fathers, to-day
49 Devote we to our gods the noblest prey!
50 Lautaro turned his eyes, and, gazing round,
51 Beheld Valdivia and Anselmo bound!
52 One stood in arms, as with a stern despair,
53 His helmet cleft in twain, his temples bare,
54 Where streaks of blood that dropped upon his mail,
55 Served but to show his face more deadly pale:
56 His eyebrows, dark and resolute, he bent,
57 And stood, composed, to wait the dire event.
58 Still on the cross his looks Anselmo cast,
59 As if all thought of this vain world was passed,
60 And in a world of light, without a shade,
61 Ev'n now his meek and guileless spirit strayed. [Page 361]
62 Where stood the Spanish chief, a muttering sound
63 Rose, and each club was lifted from the ground;
64 When, starting from his father's corse, his sword
65 Waving before his once-triumphant lord,
66 Lautaro cried, My breast shall meet the blow:
67 But save — save him, to whom my life I owe!
68 Valdivia marked him with unmoving eye,
69 Then looked upon his bonds, nor deigned reply;
70 When Harratomac, stealing with slow pace,
71 And lifting high his iron-jagged mace,
72 Smote him to earth; a thousand voices rose,
73 Mingled with shouts and yells, So fall our foes!
74 Lautaro gave to tears a moment's space,
75 As black in death he marked Valdivia's face,
76 Then cried — Chiefs, friends, and thou, Caupolican,
77 Oh, spare this innocent and holy man!
78 He never sailed, rapacious, o'er the deep,
79 The gold of blood-polluted lands to heap;
80 He never gave the armed hosts his aid,
81 But meekly to the Mighty Spirit prayed,
82 That in all lands the sounds of woe might cease,
83 And brothers of the wide world dwell in peace!
84 The victor-youth saw generous sympathy
85 Already steal to every warrior's eye;
86 Then thus again: Oh, if this filial tear
87 Bear witness my own father was most dear;
88 If this uplifted arm, this bleeding steel
89 Speak for my country what I felt and feel;
90 If, at this hour, I meet her high applause,
91 While my heart beats still ardent in her cause; —
92 Hear, and forgive these tears that grateful flow,
93 Oh! hear, how much to this poor man I owe!
94 I was a child — when to my sire's abode,
95 In Chillan's vale, the armed horsemen rode:
96 Me, whilst my father cold and breathless lay,[Page 362]
97 Far off the crested soldiers bore away,
98 And for a captive sold. No friend was near,
99 To mark a young and orphan stranger's tear!
100 This humble man, with kind parental care,
101 Snatched me from slavery — saved from dark despair;
102 And as my years increased, protected, fed,
103 And breathed a father's blessings on my head.
104 A Spanish maid was with him: need I speak?
105 Behold, affection's tear still wets my cheek!
106 Years, as they passed, matured in ripening grace
107 Her form unfolding, and her beauteous face:
108 She heard my orphan tale; she loved to hear,
109 And sometimes for my fortunes dropped a tear.
110 I could have bowed to direst ills resigned,
111 But wept at looks so sweet, at words so kind.
112 Valdivia saw me, now in blooming age,
113 And claimed me from the father as his page;
114 The chief too cherished me, yea, saved my life,
115 When in Peru arose the civil strife.
116 Yet still remembering her I loved so well,
117 Oft I returned to the gray father's cell:
118 His voice instructed me; recalled my youth
119 From rude idolatry to heavenly truth:
120 Of this hereafter; he my darkling mind
121 Cleared, and from low and sensual thoughts refined.
122 Then first, with feelings new impressed, I strove
123 To hide the tear of tenderness and love:
124 Amid the fairest maidens of Peru,
125 My eyes, my heart, one only object knew:
126 I lived that object's love and faith to share;
127 He saw, and blessed us with a father's prayer.
128 Here, at Valdivia's last and stern command,
129 I came, a stranger in my native land!
130 Anselmo (so him call — now most in need —
131 And standing here in bonds, for whom I plead)[Page 363]
132 Came, by our chief so summoned, and for aid
133 To the Great Spirit of the Christians prayed:
134 Here as a son I loved him, but I left
135 A wife, a child, of my fond cares bereft,
136 Never to see again; for death awaits
137 My entrance now in Lima's jealous gates.
138 Caupolican, didst thou thy father love?
139 Did his last dying look affection move?
140 Pity this aged man; unbend thy brow:
141 He was my father — is my father, now!
142 Consenting mercy marks each warrior's mien.
143 But who is this, what pallid form is seen,
144 As crushed already by the fatal blow,
145 Bound, and with looks white as a wreath of snow,
146 Her hands upon her breast, scarce drawn her breath,
147 A Spanish woman knelt, expecting death,
148 Whilst, borne by a dark warrior at her side,
149 An infant shrunk from the red plumes, and cried!
150 Lautaro started:
150 Injured maid of Spain!
151 Me! — me! oh, take me to thine arms again!
152 She heard his voice, and, by the scene oppressed,
153 With one faint sigh fell senseless on his breast.
154 Caupolican, with warm emotion, cried,
155 Live, live! Lautaro and his beauteous bride!
156 Live, aged father! — and forthwith commands
157 A warrior to unbind Anselmo's hands.
158 She raised her head: his eyes first met her view,
159 As round Lautaro's neck her arms she threw,
160 Ah, no! she feebly spoke; it is not true!
161 It is some form of the distempered brain!
162 Then hid her face upon his breast again.
163 Dark flashing eyes, terrific, glared around:
164 Here, his brains scattered by the deadly wound,
165 The Spanish chief lay on the gory ground. [Page 364]
166 With lowering brows, and mace yet drooping blood,
167 And clotted hair, there Mariantu stood.
168 Anselmo here, sad, yet in sorrow mild,
169 Appeared: she cried, A blessing on your child,
170 And knelt, as slow revived her waking sense,
171 And then, with looks aghast, Oh bear us hence!
172 Now all the assembled chiefs, assenting, cried,
173 Live, live! Lautaro and his beauteous bride!
174 With eager arms Lautaro snatched his boy,
175 And kissed him in an agony of joy;
176 Then to Anselmo gave, who strove to speak,
177 And felt the tear first burning on his cheek:
178 The infant held his neck with strict embrace,
179 And kissed his pale emaciated face.
180 From the dread scene, wet with Valdivia's gore,
181 His wan and trembling charge Lautaro bore.
182 There was a bank, where slept the summer-light,
183 A small stream whispering went in mazes bright,
184 And stealing from the sea, the western wind
185 Waved the magnolias on the slope inclined:
186 The woodpecker, in glittering plumage green,
187 And echoing bill, beneath the boughs was seen;
188 And, arched with gay and pendent flowers above,
189 The floripondio
230 One of the most beautiful of the beautiful climbing plants of South America.
its rich trellis wove.
190 Lautaro bent, with looks of love and joy,
191 O'er his yet trembling wife and beauteous boy:
192 Oh, by what miracle, beloved! say,
193 Hast thou escaped the perils of the way
194 From Lima, where our humble dwelling stood,
195 To these tumultuous scenes, this vale of blood?
196 Roused by his voice, as from the sleep of death,
197 Faint she replied, with slow-recovering breath,
198 Who shall express, when thou, best friend! wert gone,
199 How sunk my heart! — deserted and alone! [Page 365]
200 Would I were with thee! oft I sat and sighed,
201 When the pale moon shone on the silent tide —
202 At length resolved, I sought thee o'er the seas:
203 The brave bark cheer'ly went before the breeze,
204 That arms and soldiers to Valdivia bore,
205 From Lima bound to Chili's southern shore:
206 I seized the fair occasion — ocean smiled,
207 As to the sire I bore his lisping child.
208 The storm arose: with loud and sudden shock
209 The vessel sunk, disparting on a rock.
210 Some mariners, amidst the billows wild,
211 Scarce saved, in one small boat, me and my child.
212 What I have borne, a captive since that day —
213 Forgive these tears — I scarce have heart to say!
214 None pitied, save one gentle Indian maid —
215 A wild maid — of her looks I was afraid;
216 Her long black hair upon her shoulders fell,
217 And in her hand she bore a wreathed shell.
218 Lautaro for a moment turned aside,
219 And, Oh, my sister! with faint voice he cried.
220 Already free from sorrow and alarms,
221 I clasped in thought a husband in my arms,
222 When a dark warrior, stationed on the height,
223 Who held his solitary watch by night,
224 Before me stood, and lifting high his lance,
225 Exclaimed: No further, on thy life, advance!
226 Faint, wearied, sinking to the earth with dread,
227 Back to the dismal cave my steps he led.
228 Only at eve, within the craggy cleft,
229 Some water, and a cake of maize, were left.
230 The thirteenth sun unseen went down the sky;
231 When morning came, they brought me forth to die;
232 But hushed be every sigh, each boding fear,
233 Since all I sought on earth, and all I love, is here! [Page 366]
234 Her infant raised his hands, with glistening eye,
235 To reach a large and radiant butterfly,
236 That fluttered near his face; with looks of love,
237 And truth and tenderness, Lautaro strove
238 To calm her wounded heart; the holy sire,
239 His eyes faint-lighted with a transient fire,
240 Hung o'er them, and to Heaven his prayer addressed,
241 While, with uplifted hands, he wept and blest.
242 An aged Indian came, with feathers crowned,
243 And knelt before Lautaro on the ground.
244 What tidings, Indian?
INDIAN.
244 When I led thy sire,
245 Whom late thou saw'st upon his shield expire,
246 Son of our Ulmen, didst thou mark no trace,
247 In these sad looks, of a remembered face?
248 Dost thou remember Izdabel? Look here!
249 It is thy father's hatchet and his spear.
250 Friend of my infant days, how I rejoice,
251 Lautaro cried, once more to hear that voice!
252 Life like a dream, since last we met, has fled —
253 Oh, my beloved sister, thou art dead!
INDIAN.
254 I come to guide thee through untrodden ways,
255 To the lone valley, where thy father's days
256 Were passed; where every cave and every tree,
257 From morn to morn, reminded him of thee!
258 Lautaro cried: Here, faithful Indian, stay;
259 I have a last sad duty yet to pay.
260 A little while we part: — thou here remain.
261 He spake, and passed like lightning o'er the plain.
262 Ah, cease, Castilian maid, thy vain alarms!
263 See where he comes — his father in his arms! [Page 367]
264 Now lead, he cried. The Indian, sad and still,
265 Paced on from wood to vale, from vale to hill;
266 Her infant tired, and hushed a while to rest,
267 Smiled, in a dream, upon its mother's breast;
268 The pensive mother gray Anselmo led;
269 Behind, Lautaro bore his father dead.
270 Beneath the branching palms they slept at night;
271 The small birds waked them ere the morning light.
272 Before their path, in distant view, appeared
273 The mountain-smoke, that its dark column reared
274 O'er Andes' summits, in the pale blue sky,
275 Lifting their icy pinnacles so high.
276 Four days they onward held their eastern way;
277 On the fifth rising morn, before them lay
278 Chillan's lone glen, amid whose windings green,
279 The Warrior's loved and last abode was seen.
280 No smoke went up, a stillness reigned around,
281 Save where the waters fell with soothing sound,
282 Save where the Thenca sang so loud and clear,
283 And the bright humming-bird was spinning near.
284 Yet here all human tumults seemed to cease,
285 And sunshine rested on the spot of peace;
286 The myrtles bloomed as fragrant and as green
287 As if Lautaro scarce had left the scene;
288 And in his ear the falling waters' spray
289 Seemed swelling with the sounds of yesterday.
290 Where yonder rock the aged cedars shade,
291 There shall my father's bones in peace be laid.
292 Beneath the cedar's shade they dug the ground;
293 The small and sad communion gathered round.
294 Beside the grave stood aged Izdabel,
295 And broke the spear, and cried: Farewell, farewell!
296 Lautaro hid his face, and sighed Adieu!
297 As the stone hatchet in the grave he threw. [Page 368]
298 The little child that to its mother clung,
299 Stretched out its arm, then on her garment hung,
300 With sidelong looks, half-shrinking, half-amazed,
301 And dropped its flowers, unconscious, as it gazed.
302 And now Anselmo, his pale brow inclined,
303 The honoured relics, dust to dust, consigned
304 With Christian rites, and sung, on bending knee,
305 "Eternam pacem dona, Domine."
306 Then rising up he closed the holy book;
307 And lifting in the beam his lighted look,
308 (The cross, with meekness, folded on his breast),
309 Here, too, he cried, my bones in peace shall rest!
310 Few years remain to me, and never more
311 Shall I behold, O Spain! thy distant shore!
312 Here lay my bones, that the same tree may wave
313 O'er the poor Christian's and the Indian's grave.
314 Oh, may it (when the sons of future days
315 Shall hear our tale and on the hillock gaze),
316 Oh, may it teach, that charity should bind,
317 Where'er they roam, the brothers of mankind!
318 The time shall come, when wildest tribes shall hear
319 Thy voice, O Christ! and drop the slaughtering spear.
320 Yet we condemn not him who bravely stood,
321 To seal his country's freedom with his blood;
322 And if, in after-times, a ruthless band
323 Of fell invaders sweep my native land,
324 May she, by Chili's stern example led,
325 Hurl back his thunder on the assailant's head;
326 Sustained by Freedom, strike the avenging blow,
327 And learn one virtue from her ancient foe!

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Title (in Source Edition): THE MISSIONARY.
Author: William Lisle Bowles
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Genres: narrative verse

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Bowles, William Lisle, 1762-1850. The Poetical Works of William Lisle Bowles, Vol. I. With Memoir, Critical Dissertation, and Explanatory Notes by George Gilfillan. Edinburgh: James Nichol, 9 North Bank Street..., 1855, pp. 295-368.  (Page images digitized from a copy held at the University of California Libraries.)

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