The sire return'd: My great desire you know, To shield from slaughter and preserve the foe, In bands of concord all their tribes to bind, And live the friend and guardian of mankind.

Should strife begin, thy youthful arm shall share The toils of glory thro the walks of war; But o'er their hills to seek alone the foes, To gain their confidence or brave their blows, Bend their proud souls to reason's voice divine, Claims hardier limbs and riper years than thine.

Yet one of heavenly race the task requires, Whose mystic rites control the solar fires; So the sooth'd G.o.dhead proves to faithless eyes His love to man, his empire of the skies.

Some veteran chief, in those rough labors tried, Shall aid thee on, and go thy faithful guide; O'er dreary heights thy sinking limbs sustain.

Teach the dark wiles of each insidious train, Thro all extremes of life thy voice attend, In counsel lead thee, or in arms defend.

And three firm youths, thy chosen friends, shall go To learn the climes and meditate the foe; That wars of future years their skill may find, To serve the realm and save the savage kind.

Rise then, my son, first partner of my fame, With early toils to build thy sacred name; In high behest, for his own legate known, Proclaim the bounties of our sire the Sun.

Tell how his fruits beneath our culture rise, His stars, how glorious, gem our cloudless skies; And how to us his hand hath kindly given His peaceful laws, the purest grace of heaven, With power to widen his terrestrial sway, And give our blessings where he gives the day.

Yet, should the stubborn nations still prepare The shaft of slaughter for the barbarous war, Tell them we know to tread the crimson plain, And G.o.d's own children never yield to man.

But ah, my child, with steps of caution go, The ways are hideous, and enraged the foe; Blood stains their altars, all their feasts are blood, Death their delight, and darkness reigns their G.o.d; Tigers and vultures, storms and earthquakes share Their rites of worship and their spoils of war.

Shouldst thou, my Rocha, tempt too far their ire, Should those dear relics feed a murderous fire, Deep sighs would rend thy wretched mother's breast, The pale Sun sink in clouds of darkness drest, Thy sire and mournful nations rue the day That drew thy steps from these sad walls away.

Yet go; tis virtue calls; and realms unknown, Won by these works, may bless thy future throne; Millions of unborn souls in time may see Their doom reversed, and owe their peace to thee, Deluded sires, with murdering hands, no more Feed fancied demons with their children's gore, But, sway'd by happier sceptres, here behold The rites of freedom and the shrines of gold.

Be wise, be mindful of thy realm and throne; G.o.d speed thy labors and preserve my son!

Soon the glad prince, in robes of white array'd, Call'd his attendants and the sire obey'd.

A diamond broad, in burning gold imprest, Display'd the sun's bright image on his breast; A pearl-dropt girdle bound his waist below, And the white lautu graced his lofty brow.

They journey'd forth, o'ermarching far the mound That flank'd the kingdom on its Andean bound; Ridge after ridge thro vagrant hordes they past, Where each new tribe seem'd wilder than the last; To all they preach and prove the solar sway, And climb fresh mountains on their tedious way.

At length, as thro disparting clouds they rise, And hills above them still obstruct the skies, While a dead calm o'er all the region stood?

And not a leaf could fan its parent wood, Sudden a strange portentous noise began; The birds fled wild, the beasts for shelter ran; Slow, sullen, loud, with deep astounding blare, Swell the strong tones of subterranean war; Behind, before, beneath them groans the ground, Earth heaves and labors with the shuddering sound; Columns of smoke, that cap the rumbling height, Roll reddening far thro heaven, and choke the light; From tottering steeps descend their cliffs of snow, The mountains reel, the valleys rend below; The headlong streams forget their usual round, And shrink and vanish in the gaping ground.

The sun descends; but night recals in vain Her silent shades, to recommence her reign; The bursting mount gapes high, a sudden glare Coruscates wide, till all the purpling air Breaks into flame, and wheels and roars and raves And wraps the welkin in its folding waves; Light sailing cinders, thro its vortex driven, Stream high and brighten to the midst of heaven; And, following slow, full floods of boiling ore Swell, swoop aloft and thro the concave roar.

Torrents of molten rocks, on every side, Lead o'er the shelves of ice their fiery tide; Hills slide before them, skies around them burn, Towns sink beneath and heaving plains upturn; O'er many a league the flaming deluge hurl'd, Sweeps total nations from the staggering world.

Meanwhile, at distance thro the livid light, A busy concourse met their wondering sight; The prince drew near; where lo! an altar stood, Rude in its form, and fill'd with burning wood; Wrapt in the flames a youth expiring lay, And the fond father thus was heard to pray: Receive, O dreadful Power, from feeble age, This last pure offering to thy sateless rage; Thrice has thy vengeance on this hated land Claim'd a dear infant from my yielding hand; Thrice have those lovely lips the victim prest, And all the mother torn that tender breast; When the dread duty stifled every sigh, And not a tear escaped her beauteous eye.

Our fourth and last now meets the fatal doom; Groan not, my child, thy G.o.d remands thee home; Attend once more, thou dark infernal Name, From yon far streaming pyramid of flame; s.n.a.t.c.h from his heaving flesh the blasted breath.

Sacred to thee and all the fiends of death; Then in thy hall, with spoils of nations crown'd, Confine thy walks beneath the rending ground; No more on earth the embowel'd flames to pour, And scourge my people and my race no more.

Thus Rocha heard; and to the trembling crowd Turn'd the bright image of his beaming G.o.d.

The afflicted chief, with fear and grief opprest, Beheld the sign, and thus the prince addrest: From what far land, O royal stranger, say, Ascend thy wandering steps this nightly way?

From plains like ours, by holy demons fired?

Have thy brave people in the flames expired?

And hast thou now, to stay the whelming flood, No son to offer to the furious G.o.d?

From happier lands I came, the prince returns, Where no red flaming flood the concave burns, No furious G.o.d bestorms our soil and skies, Nor yield our hands the b.l.o.o.d.y sacrifice; But life and joy the Power delights to give, And bids his children but rejoice and live.

Thou seest thro heaven the day-dispensing Sun In living radiance wheel his golden throne, O'er earth's gay surface send his genial beams, Force from yon cliffs of ice the vernal streams; While fruits and flowers adorn the cultured field, And seas and lakes their copious treasures yield; He reigns our only G.o.d. In him we trace The friend, the father of our happy race.

Late the lone tribes, on those unlabor'd sh.o.r.es, Ran wild and served imaginary Powers; Till he, in pity, taught their feuds to cease, Devised their laws, and fashion'd all for peace.

My sacred parents first the reign began, Sent from his courts to guide the paths of man, To plant his fruits, to manifest his sway, And give their blessings where he gives the day.

The sachem proud replied: Thy garb and face Proclaim thy lineage of superior race; And our progenitors, no less than thine, Sprang from a G.o.d, and own a birth divine.

From that sky-scorching mount, on floods of flame, In elder times my great forefathers came; There dwells the Sire, and from his dark abode Oft claims, as now, the tribute of a G.o.d.

This victim due when willing mortals pay, His terrors lessen and his fires decay; While purer sleet regales the mountain air, And our glad hosts are fired for fiercer war.

Yet know, dread chief, the pious youth rejoin'd, Some one prime Power produced all human kind: Some Sire supreme, whose ever-ruling soul Creates, preserves, and regulates the whole.

That Sire supreme must roll his radiant eye Round the wide earth and thro the boundless sky; That all their habitants, their G.o.ds and men, May rise unveil'd beneath his careful ken.

Could thy dark fiend, that hides his blind abode, And cauldrons in his cave that fiery flood, Yield the rich fruits that distant nations find?

Or praise or punish or behold mankind?

But when my G.o.d, resurging from the night, Shall gild his chambers with the morning light, By mystic rites he'll vindicate his throne, And own thy servant for his duteous son.

Meantime, the chief replied, thy cares releast, Rest here the night and share our scanty feast; Which, driven in hasty rout, our train supplied, When trembling earth foretold the boiling tide.

They fared, they rested; till with lucid horn All-cheering Phosphor led the lively morn; The prince arose, an altar rear'd in haste, And watch'd the splendors of the reddening east.

As o'er the mountain flamed the sun's broad eye, He call'd the host, his holy rites to try; Then took the loaves of maize, the bounties brake, Gave to the chief, and bade them all partake; The hallow'd relics on the pile he placed, With tufts of flowers the simple offering graced, Held to the sun the image from his breast, Whose glowing concave all the G.o.d exprest; O'er the dried leaves the rays concentred fly, And thus his voice ascends the listening sky: O thou, whose splendors kindle heaven with fire.

Great Soul of nature, man's immortal Sire, If e'er my father found thy sovereign grace, Or thy blest will ordain'd the Incan race, Give these lorn tribes to learn thy awful name, Receive this offering, and the pile inflame; So shall thy laws o'er wider bounds be known, And earth's whole race be happy as thy own.

Thus pray'd the prince; the focal flames aspire, The mute beholders tremble and retire, Gaze on the miracle, full credence own, And vow obedience to the sacred Sun.

The legates now their farther course descried, A young cazique attending as a guide, O'er craggy cliffs pursued their eastern way, Trod loftier champaigns, meeting high the day, Saw timorous tribes, in these sublime abodes, Adore the blasts and turn the storms to G.o.ds; While every cloud that thunders thro the skies Claims from their hands a human sacrifice.

Awhile the youth, their better faith to gain, Strives with his usual art, but strives in vain; In vain he pleads the mildness of the sun; A gale refutes him ere his speech be done; Continual tempests from their orient blow, And load the mountains with eternal snow.

The sun's own beam, the timid clans declare, Drives all their evils on the tortured air; He draws the vapors up their eastern sky, That sail and centre round his dazzling eye; Leads the loud storms along his midday course, And bids the Andes meet their sweeping force; Builds their bleak summits with an icy throne, To shine thro heaven, a semblance of his own; Hence the sharp sleet, these lifted lawns that wait, And all the scourges that attend their state.

Two toilsome days the virtuous Inca strove To social life their savage minds to move; When the third morning glow'd serenely bright, He led their elders to an eastern height; The world unlimited beneath them lay, And not a cloud obscured the rising day.

Vast Amazonia, starr'd with twinkling streams, In azure drest, a heaven inverted seems; Dim Paraguay extends the aching sight, Xaraya glimmers like the moon of night, Land, water, sky in blending borders play, And smile and brighten to the lamp of day.

When thus the prince: What majesty divine!

What robes of gold! what flames about him shine!

There walks the G.o.d! his starry sons on high Draw their dim veil and shrink behind the sky; Earth with surrounding nature's born anew, And men by millions greet the glorious view!

Who can behold his all-delighting soul Give life and joy, and heaven and earth control, Bid death and darkness from his presence move, Who can behold, and not adore and love?

Those plains, immensely circling, feel his beams, He greens the groves, he silvers gay the streams, Swells the wild fruitage, gives the beast his food, And mute creation hails the genial G.o.d.

But richer boons his righteous laws impart, To aid the life and mould the social heart, His arts of peace thro happy realms to spread, And altars grace with sacrificial bread; Such our distinguish'd lot, who own his sway, Mild as his morning stars and liberal as the day.

His unknown laws, the mountain chief replied, May serve perchance your boasted race to guide; And yon low plains, that drink his partial ray, At his glad shrine their just devotions pay.

But we nor fear his frown nor trust his smile; Vain as our prayers is every anxious toil; Our beasts are buried in his whirls of snow, Our cabins drifted to his slaves below.

Even now his placid looks thy hopes beguile, He lures thy raptures with a morning smile; But soon (for so those saffron robes proclaim) His own black tempest shall obstruct his flame, Storm, thunder, fire, against the mountains driven, Rake deep their sulphur'd sides, disgorging here his heaven.

He spoke; they waited, till the fervid ray High from the noontide shot the faithless day; When lo, far gathering under eastern skies, Solemn and slow, the dark red vapors rise; Full clouds, convolving on the turbid air, Move like an ocean to the watery war.

The host, securely raised, no dangers harm, They sit unclouded and o'erlook the storm; While far beneath, the sky-borne waters ride, Veil the dark deep and sheet the mountain's side; The lightning's glancing fires, in fury curl'd, Bend their long forky foldings o'er the world; Torrents and broken crags and floods of rain From steep to steep roll down their force amain, In dreadful cataracts; the bolts confound The tumbling clouds, and rock the solid ground.

The blasts unburden'd take their upward course, And o'er the mountain top resume their force.

Swift thro the long white ridges from the north The rapid whirlwinds lead their terrors forth; High walks the storm, the circling surges rise, And wild gyrations wheel the hovering skies; Vast hills of snow, in sweeping columns driven, Deluge the air and choke the void of heaven; Floods burst their bounds, the rocks forget their place, And the firm Andes tremble to their base.

Long gazed the host; when thus the stubborn chief, With eyes on fire, and fill'd with sullen grief: Behold thy careless G.o.d, secure on high, Laughs at our woes and peaceful walks the sky, Drives all his evils on these seats sublime, And wafts his favors to a happier clime; Sire of the dastard race thy words disclose, There glads his children, here afflicts his foes.

Hence! speed thy flight! pursue him where he leads; Lest vengeance seize thee for thy father's deeds, Thy immolated limbs a.s.suage the fire Of those curst Powers, who now a gift require.

The youth in haste collects his scanty train, And, with the sun, flies o'er the western plain; The fading orb with plaintive voice he plies, To guide his steps and light him down the skies.

So when the moon and all the host of even Hang pale and trembling on the verge of heaven, While storms ascending threat their nightly reign, They seek their absent sire, and sink below the main.

Now to the south he turns; where one vast plain Calls from a hundred hordes the warrior train; Of various dress and various form they show'd; Each wore the ensign of his local G.o.d.

From eastern hills a grisly troop descends, Whose war song wild the shuddering concave rends; Cloak'd in a tiger's hide their grim chief towers, And apes the brinded G.o.d his tribe adores.

The tusky jaws grin o'er the sachem's brow, The bald eyes glare, the paws depend below, From his bored ears contorted serpents hung, And drops of gore seem'd rolling on his tongue.

The northern glens pour forth the Vulture-race; Brown tufts of quills their shaded foreheads grace; The claws branch wide, the beak expands for blood, And all the armor imitates the G.o.d.

The Condor, frowning from a southern plain, Borne on a standard, leads a numerous train: Clench'd in his talons hangs an infant dead, His long bill pointing where the sachems tread, His wings, tho lifeless, frighten still the wind, And his broad tail o'ershades the file behind.

From other plains and other hills afar, The tribes throng dreadful to the promised war; Some twine their forelock with a crested snake, Some wear the emblems of a stream or lake; All from the Power they serve a.s.sume their mode, And foam and yell to taste the Incan blood.

The prince incautious with his men drew near, Known for an Inca by his dress and air; Till coop'd and caught amid the warrior trains, They bow in silence to the victor's chains.

When now the gather'd thousands throng the plain, And echoing skies the rending shouts retain; Zamor, the chieftain of the Tiger-band, By choice appointed to the first command, Shrugg'd up his brinded spoils above the rest, And grimly frowning thus the crowd addrest: