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All night he wander'd by the desert main,
Him dost thou seek who injured thine and thee? To catch the melancholy sounds again.
Here-strike the fell assassin-I am he!” No torches blaze in Penco's castled hall
“ Die !” he exclaim'd, and with convulsive start | That echoed to the midnight festival.
Instant had plunged the dagger in his heart, The way-worn soldiers, by their toils opprest, When the meek father, with his holy book, Had now retired to silence and to rest.
And placid aspect, met his frenzied look, The minstrel only, who the song had sung He trembled—struck his brow-and, turning round, Of the brave Cid, as o'er the strings he hung, Flung the uplifted dagger to the ground. Upon the instrument had fall'n asleep,
Then murmur'd—“Father, Heaven has heard thy Weary, and now was hush'd in slumbers deep.
pгayerTracing the scenes long past, in busy dreams « But O! the sister of my soul-lies there! Again he wanders by his native streams;
The Christian's God has triumph'd! Father, heap Or sits, his evening saraband to sing
Some earth upon her bones, whilst I go weep!” To the clear Minha's gentle murmuring,
Anselmo with calm brow approach'd the place, Cold o'er the freckled clouds the morning broke And hasten'd with his staff his faltering pace: Aslant ere from his slumbers he awoke:
“ Ho! child of guilt and wretchedness,” he cried, Still as he sat, nor yet had left the place,
“Speak !”_" Holy father," the sad youth replied, The first weak light fell on his pallid face. “God bade the seas th' accusing victim roll He wakes—he gazes round-the dawning day Dead at my feet, to teach my shuddering soul Comes from the deep, in garb of cloudy gray. Its guilt: 0! father, holy father, pray The woods with crow of early turkeys ring, That Heaven may take the deep dire curse away.' The glancing birds beneath the castle sing.
"0! yet,” Anselmo cried, “ live and repent, And the sole sun his rising orb displays,
For not in vain was this dread warning sent-
Go! seek Heaven's peace by penitence and prayer." When earth and ocean wore their sweetest smile, The youth arose, yet trembling from the shock, He wander'd to the beach: the early air
And sever'd from the dead maid's hair a lockBlew soft, and lifted, as it blew, his hair ;
This to his heart with trembling hand he press'd, Flush'd was his cheek; his faded eye, yet bright, And dried the salt sea moisture on his breast. Shone with a faint, but animated light,
They laid her limbs within the sea-beat grave, While the soft morning ray seem'd to bestow And pray'd, “ Her soul, O! blessed Mary, save !" On his tired mind a transient kindred glow. Then the sad thought of young Olola rose,
CANTO VII. And the still glen beneath the mountain snows.
ARGUMENT “I will return,” he cried, “and whisper, live!
Midnight-Valdivia's tent-Missionary-March to the And say--(0! can I say?) Forgive! forgive !"
valley Arauco-First sight of assembled Indians. As thus, with shadow stretching o'er the sand, He mused and wander'd on the winding strand, THE watchman on the tower his bugle blew, At distance, toss'd upon the fuming tide,
And swelling to the morn the streamers flew,A dark and floating substance he espied.
The rampart guns a dread alarum gave, He stood, and where the eddying surges beat, Smoke roll'd, and thunder echoed o'er the wave; An Indian corpse was rollid beneath his feet: When, starting from his couch, Valdivia cried, The hollow wave retired with sullen sound
“ What tidings ?” “ Of the tribes !” a scout replied; The face of that sad corpse was to the ground; “E'en now, prepared thy bulwarks to assail, It seem'd a female, by the slender form;
Their gathering numbers darken all the vale ! He touch'd the hand-it was no longer warm;
Valdivia cali'd to the attendant youth, He turn'd its face-O! God, that eye, though “ Philip,” he cried, “belike thy words have truth; dim,
The formidable host, by holy James, Seem'd with its deadly glare as fix'd on him. Might well appal our priests and city dames How sunk his shuddering sense, how changed his “Dost thou not fear?- Nay-dost thou not hue,
reply? When poor Olola in that corpse he knew!
Now by the rood, and all the saints on high,
Tis she !-he knew her by a mark impress'd But, as thou saidst, those mighty enemies
Me and my feeble legions would despise,
Come life, come death, our battle shall display With rising wrath and stern suspicion gazed; Its ensigns to the earliest beam of day! (For Zarinel still knelt upon the sand,
With louder summons ring the rampart bell, And to his forehead press'd the dead maid's hand.) And haste the shriving father from his cell “ Speak! whence art thou?"
A soldier's heart rejoices in alarms :
Pale Zarinel, his head And let the trump at midnight sound to arms!" Upraising, answered,
| And now, obedient to the chief's commands, “Peace is with the dead! The gray-hair'd priest before the soldier stands :
“Father," Valdivia cried, “ fierce are our foes,- JAh! turn and see-a dagger in his hand The last event of war God only knows;
With scowling brow-see the assassin stand! Let mass be sung.--Father, this very night Pizarro falls !"-he welters in his gore ! I would attend the high and holy rite.
Lord of the western world, art thou no more? Yet deem not that I doubt of victory,
Valdivia, hark Sit was another groan ! Or place defeat or death before mine eye,
Another shadow comes it is thy own! It blenches not! But, whatsoe'er befall,
Ah, bind not thus his arms give, give him breath! Good father! I would part in peace with all. Wipe from his bleeding brow those damps of death! So tell Lautaro-his ingenuous mind
Valdivia, starting, woke :-he is alone : Perhaps may grieve, if late I seem'd unkind: | The taper in his tent yet dimly shone: Hear my heart speak—though far from virtue's way “ Lautaro, haste !” he cried; “ Lautaro, save Ambition's lure hath led my steps astray,
Thy dying master -Ah! is this the brave, No wanton exercise of barbarous power
The haughty victor?-Hush, the dream is past ! Harrows my shrinking conscience at this hour. The early trumpets ring the second blast! “ If hasty passions oft my spirit fire,
Arm, arm !-E'en now, th' impatient charger They flash a moment, and the next expire ;
neighs! Lautaro knows it.-There is somewhat more Again, from tent to tent, the trumpet brays !" I would not, here-here, on this distant shore By torch-light, then, Valdivia gave command, (Should they, the Indian multitudes, prevail, “ Haste, let Del Oro take a chosen band, And this good sword and these firm sinews fail) With watchful caution, on his fleetest steed, Amid my deadly enemies be found,
A troop observant on the heights to lead !” Unhostled,* unabsolved, upon the ground,
Now beautiful, beneath the heaven's gray arch, A dying man,-thy look, thy reverend age, Appear'd the main battalion's moving march ; Might save my poor remains from barbarous rage; The banner of the cross was borne before, And thou mayst pay the last sad obsequies, And next, with aspect sad, and tresses hoar, O'er the heap'd earth where a brave soldier lies:- The holy man went thoughtfully, and prest So God be with thee :"
A crucifix, in silence, to his breast.
By the torches’ light, Valdivia, all in plated steel array'd, The slow procession moves: the solemn rite Upon whose crest the morn's effulgence play'd, Is chanted: through the aisles and arches dim, Majestic rein'd his steed, and seem'd alone, At intervals, is heard th’imploring hymn.
Worthy the southern world's imperial throne. Now all is still, that only you might hear
His features through the barred casque that glow, (The tall and slender tapers burning clear, His pole-axe, pendent from the saddle bow; Whose light Anselmo's pallid brow illumes, His steely armour, and the glitter bright Now glances on the mailed soldier's plumes) Of his drawn sabre, in the orient light, Hear, sounding far, only the iron tread,
Speak him not, now, for knightly tournament That echoed through the cloisters of the dead. Array'd, but on emprise of prowess bent, Dark clouds are wandering o'er the heaven's And deeds of deadly strife: in blooming pride, wide way;
Th’ attendant youth rode, pensive, by his side. Now from the camp, at times, a horse's neigh Their pennon'd lances, waving in the wind, Breaks on the ear; and on the rampart heightt Two hundred clanking horsemen tramp'd behind, The sentinel proclaims the middle watch of night. In iron harness clad—the bugles blew, By the dim taper's solitary ray,
And high in air the sanguine ensigns flew. Tired, in his tent, the sovereign soldier lay. The arbalasters next, with cross-bows slung,
Meantime, as shadowy dreams arise, he roams March’d, whilst the plumed Moors their cymbals 'Mid bright pavilions and imperial domes,
swung. Where terraces, and battlements, and towers,
Auxiliar Indians here, a various train, Glisten in air o'er rich romantic bowers.
With spears and bows, darken'd the distant plain. Sudden the visionary pomp is past,-
Drums roll'd, and fifes re-echoed shrill and clear,
While flags and intermingled halberts shine,
By Indians drawn, with match-men in the rear Her gold, her richest gems, let fortune strew
And many a straggling mule and sumpter train Before the mighty conqueror of Peru !
Closed the embattled order on the plain,
But the projecting points of scarce-discover'd spears. * Shakspeare.
Slow up the hill, with floating vapours hoar, + It may be necessary to say here, that whenever the Spaniards founded a city, after the immediate walls of
of | Or by the blue lake's long retiring shore, defence, their first object was to build a church, and to Now seen distinct, through the disparting haze, have, with as much pomp as possible, the ecclesiastical The glittering file its banner'd length displays; services performed. Hence the cathedrals founded by Now winding from the woods, again appears them, in America, were of transcendent beauty and
and The moving line of matchlocks and of spears, magnificence
Almagro, who firs: penetrated into Chili, was afterwards strangled.
* Pizarro was assassinated.
Part seen, part lost : the long illustrious march Dire was the strife, when ardent Teucapel
And swaying their huge clubs together, crush'd
Caupolican, where the main battle bleeds, Ten pendent heads, from which the gore still run, Hosts, and succeeding hosts, undaunted leads, All gash'd and grim, and blackening in the sun : Till, torn and shatter'd by the ceaseless fire, These were the gallant troop that pass'd before, Thousands with gnashing teeth, and clenched spears, The Indians' vast encampment to explore,
expire. Led by Del Oro, now with many a wound
Pierced by a hundred wounds, Ongolmo lies, Pierced, and a headless trunk upon the ground. | And grasps his club terrific as he dies. The horses startled, as they tramp'd in blood; With breathless expectation, on the height, The troops a moment half-recoiling stood.
Lautaro watch'd the long and dubious fight: But boots not now to pause, or to retire ; Pale and resign'd the meek man stood, and Valdivia's eye flash'd with indignant fire :
press'd “Onward ! brave comrades, to the pass !” he cried More close the holy image to his breast. “Onward !” th' impatient cuirassiers replied. Now nearer to the fight Lautaro drew, And now, up to the hill's ascending crest,
When on the ground a warrior met his view,
Upon whose features memory seem'd to trace
Far as the labouring sight could stretch its glance, Raised his uplifted sword, in act to smite,
When the youth springing on, without a word, One animated surface seem'd to fill
Snatch'd from a soldier's wearied grasp the sword, The many stirring scene, from hill to hill:
And smote the horseman through the crest: a yell To the deep mass he pointed with bis sword, of triumph burst, as to the ground he fell. “ Banner, advance !” Give out“ Castile!” the word. Lautaro shouted, “On! brave brothers, on!
Instant the files advance-the trumpets bray, Scatter them, like the snow the day is won! And now the host, in terrible array,
Lo, I! Lautaro,-Attacapac's son!”
Cleft are the helms, and crush'd the struggling steeds.
“ Stand, brave companions !” bold Valdivia cried, From forests, brown with everlasting shades; And shook his sword, in recent carnage died. . From rocks of sunshine, white with prone cascades; “0! droop not-droop not yet-all is not o'erFrom snowy summits where the llama roams, Brave, faithful friends, one glorious sally more! Oft bending o'er the cataract as it foams;
Where is Lautaro ? leaps bis willing sword From streams, whose bridges* tremble from the Now to avenge his long-indulgent lord ?" steep;
He waited not for answer, but again
Clubs, arrows, spears, the spot of death enclose, With clubs terrific, and with aspects grim,
And fainter now the Spanish shouts arose. Flock'd fearless.
'Mid ghastly heaps of roany a bleeding corpse, When they saw the Spanish line Lies the caparison'd and dying horse. Arranged, and front to front, descending shine, While still the rushing multitudes assail, Burst-instant burst, the universal cry
Vain is the fiery tube, the twisted mail! (Ten thousand spears uplifted to the sky)
The Spanish horsemen faint: long yells resound “ Tyrants, we come to conquer or to die!"
As the dragg'd ensign trails the gory ground. Grim Mariantu led the Indian force
“ Shout, for the chief is seized !"-a thousand A-left; and, rushing to the foremost horse,
The meek Anselmo, led in bonds, behind !
| Left poor Olola's hair within the wound. A thousand spears went hissing overhead,
Now all is hush'd-save where, at times, alone And feather'd arrows, of each varying hue, Deep midnight listens to a distant moan, In glancing arch, beneath the sunbeams flew. Save where the condors clamour, overhead,
And strike with sounding beaks the helmets of the • Rude hanging bridges, constructed by the natives.
| Here, on the scene with recent slaughter red, CANTO VIII.
To soothe the spirits of the brave who bled,
Raise we, to-day, the war-feast of the dead.
Bring forth the chief in bonds !-Fathers, to-day, Indian festival for victory-old warrior brought in wounded --Recognises his long-lost son, and dies-Discovery
Devote we to our gods the noblest prey." Conclusion with the old warrior's funeral, and prophetic
Lautaro turn’d his eyes, and, gazing round, oration by the Missionary.
Beheld Valdivia, and Anselmo, bound !
One stood in arms, as with a stern despair, THE morn returns, and reddening seems to shed
His helmet cleft in twain, his temples bare, One ray of glory on the patriot dead!
Where streaks of blood, that dropt upon his mail, Round the dark stone, the victor chiefs behold!
Served but to show his face more deadly pale: Still on their locks the gouts of gore hang cold !
His eyebrows, dark and resolute, he bent, There stands the brave Caupolican, the pride
And stood, composed, to wait the dire event. Of Chili, young Lautaro by his side!
Still on the cross his looks Anselmo cast, Near the grim circle, pendent from the wood,
As if all thought of this vain world was passid, Twelve hundred Spanish heads are dropping blood.
And in a world of light, without a shade, Shrill sound the pipes of death: in festive dance,
E'en now his meek and guileless spirit stray'd. The Indian maids with myrtle boughs advance;
Where stood the Spanish chief, a muttering sound The tinkling sea-shells on their ankles ring,
Rose, and each club was lifted from the ground; As, hailing thus the victor youth, they sing:
When, starting from his father's corpse, his sword
Waving before his once triumphant lord,
Lautaro cried, “ My breast shall meet the blow :
But save-save him, to whom my life I owe!” 1.
Valdivia mark'd him with unmoved eye, .0, shout for Lautaro, the young and the brave! Then look'd upon his bonds, nor deign'd reply ; The arm of whose strength was uplifted to save, | When Mariantu,--stealing with slow pace, When the steeds of the strangers came rushing And listing high his iron-jagged mace,amain,
Smote him to earth: a thousand voices rose, . And the ghosts of our fathers look'd down on the Mingled with shouts and yells, “ So fall our slain!
Lautaro gave to tears a moment's space, " 'Twas eve, and the noise of the battle was o'er. | As black in death he mark'd Valdivia's face, Five thousand brave warriors were cold in their | Then cried, -" Chiefs, friends, and thou, Caupoligore:
can, When in front, young Lautaro invincible stood. 10, spare this innocent and holy man! And the horses and iron men roll'd in their blood! He never sail'd rapacious o'er the deep,
| The gold of blood-polluted lands to heap.
He never gave the armed hosts his aid“ As the snows of the mountain are swept by the But meckly to the Mighty Spirit pray'd, blast,
That in all lands the sounds of wo might cease, The earthquake of death o'er the white men has And brothers of the wide world dwell in peace !" pass'd;
The victor youth saw generous sympathy Shout, Chili, in triumph! the battle is won, Already steal to every warrior's eye; And we dance round the heads that are black in
Then thus again :-* 0, if this filial tear the sun!”
Bear witness my own father was most dear
If this uplifted arm, this bleeding steel Lautaro, as if wrapt in thought profound, Speak, for my country what I felt, and feel ; Oft turn’d an anxious look inquiring round. If, at this hour, I meet her high applause,
He is not here -Say, does my father live?” While my heart beats still ardent in her cause ; Ere eager voices could an answer give,
Hear, and forgive these tears that grateful flow, With faltering footsteps and declining head, O! hear how much to this poor man I owe. And slowly by an aged Indian led,
“I was a child-when to my sire's abode, Wounded and weak the mountain chief appears: In Chillan's vale, the armed horsemen rode : " Live, live!” Lautaro cried, with bursting tears, Me, whilst my father cold and breathless lay, And fell upon his neck, and kissing press'd, Far off the crested soldiers bore away, With folding arms, his gray hairs to his breast. And for a captive sold. No friend was near, “0, live! I am thy son-thy long-lost child !” To mark a young and orphan stranger's tear: The warrior raised his look, and faintly smiled This humble man, with kind parental care, “Chili, my country, is avenged !” he cried : Snatch'd me from slavery-saved from dark de“My son !"—then sunk upon a shield—and died
spair; Lautaro knelt beside him, as he bow'd,
And as my years increased, protected, fed, And kiss'd his bleeding breast, and wept aloud. And breathed a father's blessings on my head. The sounds of sadness through the circle ran, A Spanish maid was with him: need I speak? When thus, with lifted axe, Caupolican,
Behold, affection's tear still wets my cheek! " What, for our fathers, brothers, children, slaici, Years, as they pass'd, matured in ripening grace Canst thou repay, ruthless, inhuman Spain - Her form unfolding, and her beauteous face:
She heard my orphan tale; she loved to hear, | Now all th' assembled chiefs, assenting, cried,
· Valdivia saw me, now in blooming age, With eager arms, Lautaro snatch'd his boy,
And felt the tear first burning on his cheek:
And kiss'd his pale emaciated face. His voice instructed me; recall'd my youth
From the dread scene, wet with Valdivia's gore, From rude idolatry to heavenly truth:
His wan and trembling charge Lautaro bore. Of this hereafter. He my darkling mind
There was a bank, where slept the summer light, Clear'd, and from low and sensual thoughts refined. A small stream whispering went in mazes bright, Then first, with feelings new impress'd, I strove And stealing from the sea, the western wind To hide the tear of tenderness and love:
Waved the magnolias on the slope inclined: Amid the fairest maidens of Peru,
The woodpecker, in glittering plumage green, My eyes, my heart, one only object knew: And echoing bill, beneath the boughs was seen; I lived that object's love and faith to share; And, arch'd with gay and pendent flowers above, He saw, and bless'd us with a father's prayer. The floripondio* its rich trellis wove.
“Here, at Valdivia's last and stern command, Lautaro bent with looks of love and joy I came-a stranger in my native land !
| O'er his yet trembling wife and beauteous boy. Anselmo (so him call-now most in need
“0, by what miracle, beloved ! say, And standing here in bonds, for whom I plead) Hast thou escaped the perils of the way Came, by our chief so summond, and for aid From Lima, where our peaceful dwelling stood, To the Great Spirit of the Christians pray'd : To these terrific shores, this vale of blood ?" Here as a son I loved him, but I left
Waked by his voice, as from the sleep of death, A wife, a child, of my fond cares bereft,
Faint she replied, with slow recovering breath, Never to see again--for death awaits
«.Who shall express, when thou, best friend! wert My entrance now in Lima's jealous gates.
gone, « Caupolican, didst thou thy father love? How sunk my heart deserted and alone Did his last dying look affection move ?
"Would I were with thee! oft I sat and sigh'd Pity this aged man; unbend thy brow:
When the pale moon shonc on the silent tide He was my father-is my father now !"
At length resolved, I sought thee o'er the seas : Consenting mercy marks each warrior's mien. The brave bark cheerly went before the breeze, But who is this ?—what pallid form is seen ? That arms and soldiers to Valdivia bore, As crush'd already by the fatal blow,
From Lima bound to Chili's southern shore Bound, and with looks white as a wreath of snow, I seized the fair occasion-ocean smiled, Her hands upon her breast,-scarce drawn her As to the sire I bore his lisping child. breath,
The storm arose: with loud and sudden shock, A Spanish woman knelt, expecting death,
The vessel sunk, disparting on a rock. Whilst, borne by a dark warrior at her side,
Some mariners, amidst the billows wild, An infant shrunk from the red plumes, and cried. Scarce saved, in one small boat, me and my child : Lautaro started .
What I have borne, a captive since that day“ Injured maid of Spain ! (Forgive these tears)-I scarce have heart to say ! Meine %0, take me to thine arms again!" None pitied, save one gentle Indian maidShe heard his voice,—with rushing thoughts op A wild maid, -of her looks I was afraid ; press'd,
Her long black hair upon her shoulders fell, And one faint sigh, she sunk upon his breast. And in her hand she bore a wreathed shell.” Caupolican, with warm emotion, cried,
Lautaro for a moment turn'd aside, “Live! live, Lautaro ! and his beauteous bride! And, "O! my sister !" with faint voice he cried. Live, aged father !”—and forthwith commands “ Already frec from sorrow and alarms, A warrior to unbind Anselmo's hands.
I clasp'd in thought a husband in my arms, She raised her head : his eyes first met her view When a dark warrior, station'd on the height, (As round Lautaro's neck her arms she threw Who held his solitary watch by night, “Ah, no!" she feebly spoke ; " it is not true ! Before me stood, and lifting high bis lance It is some form of the distemper'd brain !"
Exclaim'd, 'No further, on thy life, advance!' Then hid her face upon his breast again.
Faint, wearied, sinking to the earth with dread Dark flashing eyes, terrific, glared around: Back to the dismal cave my steps he led. Here, his brains scatter'd by the deadly wound,
Duly at eve, within the craggy cleft, The Spanish chief lay, on the gory ground. Some water, and a cake of maize, were left: With lowering brows, and mace yet dropping The thirteenth sun unseen went down the sky: blood,
When morning came, they brought me forth to die And clotted hair, there Mariantu stood.
But hush'd be every sigh, each boding fear, Anselmo mournful, yet in sorrow mild,
Since all I sought on earth, and all I love, is here ! Stood opposite :--"A blessing on your child," The woman said, as slow revived her waking sense, One of the most beautiful of the beautiful climbing And then, with looks aghast, “O bear us hence !” plants of South America.