The Poetical Works of William Lisle Bowles Volume I Part 31

CAPTIVE.

Ocampo!

WARRIOR.

Earth upon the billet heap; So may a tyrant's heart be buried deep!

The dark woods echoed to the long acclaim, Accursed be his nation and his name!

WARRIOR.

Cast in the lot.

Again, with looks aghast, The captive in the trench a billet cast. 160 p.r.o.nounce his name who here pollutes the plain, The leader of the mailed hosts of Spain!

CAPTIVE.

Valdivia!

At that name a sudden cry Burst forth, and every lance was lifted high.

WARRIOR.

Valdivia!

Earth upon the billet heap; So may a tyrant's heart be buried deep!

The dark woods echoed to the long acclaim, Accursed be his nation and his name! 170

And now loud yells, and whoops of death resound; The shuddering captive ghastly gazed around, When the huge war-club smote him to the ground.

Again deep stillness hushed the listening crowd, While the prophetic wizard sang aloud.

SONG TO THE G.o.d OF WAR.

By thy habitation dread, In the valley of the dead, Where no sun, nor day, nor night, Breaks the red and dusky light; By the grisly troops, that ride, 180 Of slaughtered Spaniards, at thy side,-- Slaughtered by the Indian spear, Mighty Epananum,[219] hear!

Hark, the battle! Hark, the din!

Now the deeds of Death begin!

The Spaniards come, in clouds! above, I hear their hoa.r.s.e artillery move!

Spirits of our fathers slain, Haste, pursue the dogs of Spain!

The noise was in the northern sky! 190 Haste, pursue! They fly--they fly!

Now from the cavern's secret cell, Where the direst phantoms dwell, See they rush,[220] and, riding high, Break the moonlight as they fly; And, on the shadowed plain beneath, Shoot, unseen, the shafts of Death!

O'er the devoted Spanish camp, Like a vapour, dark and damp, May they hover, till the plain 200 Is hid beneath the countless slain; And none but silent women tread From corse to corse, to seek the dead!

The wavering fire flashed with expiring light, When shrill and hollow, through the cope of night, A distant shout was heard; at intervals, Increasing on the listening ear it falls.

It ceased; when, bursting from the thickest wood, With lifted axe, two gloomy warriors stood; Wan in the midst, with dark and streaming hair, 210 Blown by the winds upon her bosom bare, A woman, faint from terror's wild alarms, And folding a white infant in her arms, Appeared. Each warrior stooped his lance to gaze On her pale looks, seen ghastlier through the blaze.

Save! she exclaimed, with harrowed aspect wild; Oh, save my innocent, my helpless child!

Then fainting fell, as from death's instant stroke; Caupolican, with stern inquiry, spoke: Whence come, to interrupt our awful rite, 220 At this dread hour, the warriors of the night?

From ocean.

Who is she who fainting lies, And now scarce lifts her supplicating eyes?

The Spanish ship went down; the seamen bore, In a small boat, this woman to the sh.o.r.e: They fell beneath our hatchets,--and again, We gave them back to the insulted main.[221]

The child and woman--of a race we hate-- Warriors, 'tis yours, here to decide their fate. 230 Vengeance! aloud fierce Mariantu cried: Let vengeance on the race be satisfied!

Let none of hated Spanish blood remain, Woman or child, to violate our plain!

Amid that dark and b.l.o.o.d.y scene, the child Stretched to the mountain-chief his hands and smiled.

A starting tear of pity dimmed the eye Of the old warrior, though he knew not why.

Oh, think upon your little ones! he cried, Nor be compa.s.sion to the weak denied. 240 Caupolican then fixed his aspect mild On the white woman and her shrinking child, Then firmly spoke:-- White woman, we were free, When first thy brethren of the distant sea Came to our sh.o.r.es! White woman, theirs the guilt!

Theirs, if the blood of innocence be spilt!

Yet blood we seek not, though our arms oppose The hate of foreign and remorseless foes; Thou camest here a captive, so abide, 250 Till the Great Spirit shall our cause decide.

He spoke: the warriors of the night obey; And, ere the earliest streak of dawning day, They lead her from the scene of blood away.

[217] The first Spaniard who visited Chili. He entered it by the dreadful pa.s.sage of the snows of the Andes; but afterwards the pa.s.sage was attempted through the desert of Atacama.

[218] The reader is referred to Molina for a particular description of the war sacrifice, which is very striking and poetical.

[219] Name of the War-deity.

[220] Terrific imaginary beings, called "man-animals," that leave their caves by night, and scatter pestilence and death as they fly.--See _Molina._

[221] "Render them back upon the insulted ocean."--_Coleridge._

CANTO FIFTH.

ARGUMENT.

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

'Tis dawn:--the distant Andes' rocky spires, One after one, have caught the orient fires.

Where the dun condor shoots his upward flight, His wings are touched with momentary light.

Meantime, beneath the mountains' glittering heads, A boundless ocean of gray vapour spreads, That o'er the champaign, stretching far below, Moves now, in cl.u.s.tered ma.s.ses, rising slow, Till all the living landscape is displayed In various pomp of colour, light, and shade, 10 Hills, forests, rivers, lakes, and level plain, Lessening in sunshine to the southern main.

The Llama's fleece fumes with ascending dew; The gem-like humming-birds their toils renew; And there, by the wild river's devious side, The tall flamingo, in its crimson pride, Stalks on, in richest plumage bright arrayed, With snowy neck superb,[222] and legs of lengthening shade.

Sad maid, for others may the valleys ring, For other ears the birds of morning sing; 20 For other eyes the palms in beauty wave, Dark is thy prison in the ocean-cave!

Amid that winding cavern's inmost shade, A dripping rill its ceaseless murmur made: Ma.s.ses of dim-discovered crags aloof, Hung, threatening, from the vast and vaulted roof: And through a fissure, in its glimmering height, Seen like a star, appeared the distant light; Beneath the opening, where the sunbeams shine, Far down, the rock-weed hung its slender twine. 30 Here, pale and bound, the Spanish captive lay, Till morn on morn, in silence, pa.s.sed away; When once, as o'er her sleeping child she hung, And sad her evening supplication sung; Like a small gem, amidst the gloom of night, A glow-worm shot its green and trembling light,-- And, 'mid the moss and craggy fragments, shed Faint l.u.s.tre o'er her sleeping infant's head; And hark! a voice--a woman's voice, its sound Dies in faint echoes, 'mid the vault profound: 40 Let us pity the poor white maid![223]

She has no mother near!

No friend to dry her tear!

Upon the cold earth she is laid: Let us pity the poor white maid!

It seemed the burden of a song of woe; And see, across the gloom an Indian girl move slow!

Her nearer look is sorrowful, yet mild, Her hanging locks are wreathed with rock-weed wild; Gently she spoke, Poor Christian, dry thy tear: 50 Art thou afraid? all are not cruel here.

Oh! still more wretched may my portion be, Stranger, if I could injure thine and thee!

And, lo! I bring, from banks and thickets wild, Wood-strawberries, and honey for thy child.

Whence, who art thou, who, in this fearful place, Does comfort speak to one of Spanish race?

INDIAN.

It is an Indian maid, who chanced to hear Thy tale of sorrow, as she wandered near: I loved a white man once; but he is flown, 60 And now I wander heartless and alone.

I traced the dark and winding way beneath: But well I know to lead thee hence were death.

Oh, say! what fortunes cast thee o'er the wave, On these sad sh.o.r.es perhaps to find a grave?

SPANISH WOMAN.

Three years have pa.s.sed since a fond husband left Me and this infant, of his love bereft; Him I have followed; need I tell thee more, Cast helpless, friendless, hopeless, on this sh.o.r.e.

INDIAN.