Part II, Madoc in Aztlan: II

But when the Lord of Ocean from the stir
And tumult was retired, Cadwallon then
Thus rendered his account.

When we had quelled
The strength of Aztlan, we should have thrown down
Her altars, cast her Idols to the fire,
And on the ruins of her fanes accurst
Planted the Cross triumphant. Vain it is
To sow the seed, where noxious weeds and briars
Must choke it in the growth.

Yet I had hope
The purer influence of exampled good
Might to the saving knowledge of the truth
Lead this bedarkened race ; and when thy ship
Fell down the stream, to distant Britain bound,
All promised well. The Strangers' God had proved
Mightier in war, and Aztlan could not chuse
But see, nor, seeing, could she fail to love,
The freedom of his service. Few were now
The offerings at her altars, few the youths
And virgins to the temple-toils devote.
Therefore the Priests combined to save their craft ;
And soon the rumour ran of evil signs
And tokens ; in the temple had been heard
Wailings and loud lament; the eternal fire
Gave dismally a dim and doubtful flame ;
And from the censer, which at morn should steam
Sweet odours to the sun, a fetid cloud,
Black and portentous, rose. And now no Priest
Approached our dwelling. Even the friendly Prince,
Yuhidthiton, was at Caermadoc now
Rarely a guest; and if that tried good will
Which once he bore us, did at times appear,
A sullen gloom, and silence like remorse,
Followed the imagined crime.

But I the while
Recked not the brooding of the storm ; for now
My father to the grave was hastening down.
Patiently did the pious man endure,
In faith anticipating blessedness,
Already more than man, in those sad hours
When man is meanest. I sate by his side,
And prayed with him, and talked with him of death,
And life to come. O Madoc! those were hours
Which, even in anguish, gave my soul a joy:
I think of them in solitude, and feel
The comfort of my faith.

But when that time
Of bitterness was past, and I returned
To daily duties, no suspicious sign
Betokened ill; the Priests among us came
As heretofore, and I their intercourse
Encouraged as I could, suspecting nought,
Nor conscious of the subtle-minded men
I dealt with, how inveterate in revenge,
How patient in deceit. Lincoya first
Forewarned me of the danger. He, thou knowest,
Had from the death of sacrifice escaped,
And was a slave among a distant tribe,
When seeing us, he felt a hope, that we,
Lords, as he deemed us, of the Elements,
Might pity his oppressed countrymen,
And free them from their bondage. Didst thou hear
How from yon devilish altars he was saved ?
For in the eternal chain his fate and ours
Were linked together then.

The Prince replied,
I did but hear a broken tale. Tell on!

Among the Gods of yon unhappy race,
Tezcalipoca as the chief they rank,
Or with the chief coequal ; maker he,
And master of created things esteemed.
He sits upon a throne of trophied skulls,
Hideous and huge ; a shield is on his arm,
And with his black right hand he lifts, as though
In wrath, the menacing spear. His festival,
Of all this wicked nation's wicked rites,
With most solemnity and circumstance,
And pomp of hellish piety, is held.
From all whom evil fortune hath subdued
To their inhuman thraldom, they select
Him whom they judge, for comely countenance,
And shapely form, and all good natural gifts,
Worthiest to be the victim; and for this
Was young Lincoya chosen, being, in truth,
The flower of all his nation. For twelve months,
Their custom is, that this appointed youth
Be as the Idol's living image held.
Garbed, therefore, like the Demon Deity,
Whene'er he goes abroad, an antic train,
With music and with dance, attend his way ;
The crowd before him fall, and worship him ;
And those infernal Priests, who guard him then
To be their victim and their feast at last,
At morning and at evening incense him,
And mock him with knee-reverence. Twenty days
Before the bloody festival arrive,
As 'twere to make the wretch in love with life,
Four maids, the loveliest of the land, are given
In spousals, With Lincoya all these rites
Duly were kept; and at the stated time,
Four maids, the loveliest of the land, were his.
Of these was one, whom, even that hour,
He learnt to love, so excellently good
Was she ; and she loved him and pitied him.
She is the daughter of an aged Priest.-
I oftentimes have seen her ; and, in truth,
Compared with Britain's maids, so beautiful,
Or with the dark-eyed daughters of the South,
She would be lovely still. Her cotton vest
Falls to the knee, and leaves her olive arms
Bare in their beauty ; loose, luxuriant, long,
Flow the black tresses of her glossy hair ;
Mild is her eye's jet lustre ; and her voice! ..
A soul that harboured evil never breathed
Such winning tones.

Thou knowest how manfully
These tribes, as if insensible to pain,
Welcome their death in battle, or in bonds
Defy their torturers. To Lincoya's mind
Long preparation now had made his fate
Familiar ; and he says, the thought of death
Broke not his sleep, nor mingled with his dreams,
Till Coatel was his. But then it woke; . .
It hung, . . it prest upon him like a weight
On one who scarce can struggle with the waves ;
And when her soul was full of tenderness,
That thought recurring to her, she would rest
Her cheek on his, and weep.

The day drew nigh ;
And now the eve of sacrifice was come. . .
What will not woman, gentle woman, dare,
When strong affection stirs her spirit up ?..
She gathered herbs, which, like our poppy, bear
The seed of sleep, and with the temple food
Mingled their power ; herself partook the food,
So best to lull suspicion ; and the youth,
Instructed well, when all were laid asleep,
Fled far away.

After our conquering arms
Had freed the Hoamen from their wretched yoke,
Lincoya needed but his Coatel
To fill his sum of earthly happiness.
Her to the temple had her father's vow
Awhile devoted, and some moons were still
To pass away, ere yet she might become
A sojourner with us, Lincoya's wife,
When from the .Paba's wiles his watchful mind
Foreboded ill. He bade me take good heed,
And fear the sudden kindness of a foe.
I started at his words ;.. these artful men,
Hostile at heart, as well we knew they were,
These were lip-lavish of their friendship now,
And courted confidence, while our tried friend
Yuhidthiton, estranged, a seldom guest,
Sullen and joyless, seemed to bear at heart
Something rankled there. These things strange.
The omens, too, had ceased ; . . we heard no more
Of twilight voices, nor the unholy cloud
Steamed from the morning incense. Why was this?

Young Malinal had from the hour of peace
Been our indweller, studious to attain
Our language and our arts. To him I told
These doubts, assured of his true love and truth ;
For he had learnt to understand and feel
Our holy faith, had tended, like a son,
Cynetha's drooping age, and shared with me
His dying benediction. He, thus long
Intent on better things, had been estranged
From Aztlan and her councils ; but at this
He judged it for her welfare, and for ours,
Now to resume his rank ; . . belike his voice
Might yet be heard, or, if the worst befel,
His timely warning save us from the snare.

But in their secret councils Malinal
No longer bore a part; the Chiefs and King
Yielding blind reverence to the Pabas now,
Deluded or dismayed. He sent to say
Some treachery was designed, and bade me charge
His brother with the crime. On that same day
Lincoya came from Aztlan ; he had found
Coatel labouring with a wretchedness
She did not seek to hide ; and when the youth
Revealed his fear, he saw her tawny cheek
Whiten, and round his neck she clung and wept.
She told him something dreadful was at hand,
She knew not what: That, at the dead midnight,
Coanocotzin at Mexitli's shrine
Had stood with all his nobles ; human blood
Had then been offered up, and secret vows
Vowed with mysterious horror: That but late,
When to her father of the days to come
She spake, and of Lincoya, and her lot
Among the strangers, he had frowned, and strove
Beneath dissembled anger to conceal
Oppressive grief. She knew not what to fear,
But something dreadful surely was at hand,
And she was wretched.

When I heard these things,
Yuhidthiton and the Priest Helhua
Were in our dwellings. Them I called apart...
There should be peace between us, I began;
Why is it otherwise ?

The Priest replied,
Is there not peace, Cadwallon ? seek we not
More frequent and more friendly intercourse,
Even we, the servants of our Country-Gods,
Whose worship ye have changed, and for whose sake
We were, and would have been your enemies ?
But as those Gods have otherwise ordained,
Do we obey. Why, therefore, is this doubt?

The Power who led us hither, I replied,
Over the world of waters, who hath saved,
And who will save his people, warns me now.
Then on Yuhidthiton I fixed my eye.
Danger is near
I cried; I know it near
It comes from Aztlan.

His disordered check,
And the forced and steady boldness of his eye,
Which in defiance met the look it feared,
Confessed the crime. I saw his inward shame ;
Yet with a pride like angry innocence
Did he make answer, I am in your hands,
And you believe me treacherous ! . . Kill me now!

Not so, Yuhidthiton ! not so! quoth I;
You were the Strangers' friend, and yet again
That wisdom may return. We are not changed; . :
Lovers of peace, we know, when danger comes,
To make the evil on the guilty head
Fall heavily and sure! with our good arms,
And our good cause, and that Almighty One,
We are enough, had we no other aid,
We of Caermadoc here, to put to shame
Aztlan, with all her strength, and all her wiles.
But even now is Madoc on the seas ;
He leads our brethren here ; and should he find
That Aztlan hath been false, .. oh! hope not then,
By force or fraud, to baffle or elude
Inevitable vengeance ! While ye may,
Look to your choice ; for we are friends or foes,
Even to your own desert. ,
So saying, I left-
The astonished men, whose unprovided minds
Failed them; nor did them at answer more,
But homeward went their way. Nor knew I then,..
For this was but a thing of yesterday, ..
How near the help I boasted. Now, I trust,
Thy coming shall discomfit all their wiles.