Part II, Madoc in Aztlan: XIX

Southward of Aztlan stood, beside the Lake,
A city of the Aztecas, by name
Patamba. Thither, from the first alarm,
The women and infirm old men were sent,
And children ; thither they who from the fight,
And from the fall of Aztlan, had escaped,
In scattered bands repaired. Their City lost,
Their Monarch slain, their Idols overthrown, . .
These tidings spread dismay ; but to dismay
Succeeded horror soon, and kindling rage,
Horror, by each new circumstance increased,
By numbers, rage emboldened. Lo! to the town,
Lamenting loud, a numerous train approach,
Like mountain torrents, swelling as they go.
Borne in the midst, upon the bier of shields,
The noble dead were seen. To tenfold grief
That spectacle provoked, to tenfold wrath
That anguish stung them. With their yells and groans
Curses are mixed, and threats, and bitter vows
Of vengeance, full and speedy. From the wreck
Of Aztlan who is saved ? T'ezozomoc,
Chief Servant of the Gods, their favoured Priest,
The voice by whom they speak ; young Tlalala,
Whom even defeat with fresher glory crowns ;
And, full of fame, their country's rock of strength,
Yuhidthiton : him, to their sovereign slain
Allied in blood, mature in wisdom, him,
Of valour unsurpassable, by all
Beloved and honoured, him the general voice
Acclaims their King ; him they demand, to lead
Their gathered force to battle, to revenge
Their Lord, their Gods, their kinsmen, to redeem
Their altars and their country.

But the dead
First from the nation's gratitude require
The rites of death. On mats of mountain palm,
Wrought of rare texture, and of richest hues,
The slaughtered warriors, side by side, were laid ;
Their bodies wrapt in many-coloured robes
Of gossampine, bedecked with gems and gold.
The livid paleness of the countenance
A mask concealed, and hid their ghastly wounds.
The Pabas stood around, and, one by one,
Placed in their hands the sacred aloe-leaves,
With mystic forms and characters inscribed ;
And as each leaf was given, Tezozomoc
Addressed the dead, . . So may ye safely pass
Between the Mountains, which, in endless war,
Hurtle with horrible uproar, and frush
Of rocks that meet in battle. Armed with this,
In safety shall ye walk along the road,
Where the Great Serpent from his lurid eyes
Shoots lightning, and across the guarded way
Vibrates his tongue of fire. Receive the third,
And cross the waters where the Crocodile
In vain expects his prey. Your passport this
Thro' the Eight Deserts; thro' the Eight Hills, this;
And this be your defence against the Wind,
Whose fury sweeps, like dust, the uprooted rocks,
Whose keenness cuts the soul. Ye noble dead,
Protected with these potent amulets,
Soon shall your Spirits reach triumphantly
The Palace of the Sun !

The funeral train
Moved to Mexitli's temple. First on high
The noble dead were borne: in loud lament
Then followed all by blood allied to them,
Or by affection's voluntary ties
Attached more closely, brethren, kinsmen, wives.
The Peers of Aztlan, all who from the sword
Of Britain had escaped, honouring the rites,
Came clad in rich array, and bore the arms
And ensigns of the dead. The slaves went last,
And Dwarfs, the pastime of the living Chiefs,
In life their sport and mockery, and in death
Their victims. Wailing, and with funeral hymns,
The long procession moved. Mexitli's Priest,
With all his servants, from the temple-gate
Advanced to meet the train. Two piles were built
Within the sacred court, of odorous wood,
And rich with gums; on these, with all their robes,
Their ensigns and their arms, they laid the dead ;
Then lit the pile. The rapid light ran up,
Up flamed the fire, and o'er the darkened sky
Sweet clouds of incense curled.

The Pabas then
Performed their bloody office. First they slew
The women whom the slaughtered most had loved,
Who most had loved the dead. Silent they went
Toward the fatal stone, resisting not,
Nor sorrowing, nor dismayed, but, as it seemed,
Stunned, senseless. One alone there was, whose cheek
Was flushed, whose eye was animate with fire ;
Her most in life Coanocotzin prized,
By ten years love endeared, his counsellor,
His friend, the partner of his secret thoughts ;
Such had she been, such merited to be.
She, as she bared her bosom to the knife,
Called on Yuhidthiton. .. Take heed, O King!
Aloud she cried, and pointed to the Priests ;
Beware these wicked men! they to the war
Forced my dead Lord. . . Thou knowest, and I know,
He loved the Strangers; that his noble mind,
Enlightened by their lore, had willingly
Put down these cursed altars! .. As she spake,
They dragged her to the stone. .. Nay! nay! she cried,
There needs not force! I go to join my Lord !
His blood and mine be on you! .. Ere she ceased,
The knife was in her breast. Tezozomoc,
Trembling with wrath, held up toward the Sun
Her reeking heart.

The dwarfs and slaves died last.
That bloody office done, they gathered up
The ashes of the dead, and coffered them
Apart; the teeth with them, which unconsumed
Among the ashes lay, a single lock
Shorn from the corpse, and his lip-emerald,
Now held to be the Spirit's flawless heart,
In better worlds. The Priest then held on high
The little ark which shrined his last remains,
And called upon the people; ..Lo! behold!
This was your King, the bountiful, the brave,
Coanocotzin ! Men of Aztlan, hold
His memory holy! learn from him to love
Your country and your Gods ; for them to live
Like him, like him to die. So from yon Heaven,
Where in the Spring of Light his Spirit bathes,
Often shall he descend ; hover above
On evening clouds, or, plumed with rainbow wings,
Sip honey from the flowers, and warble joy.
Honour his memory ! emulate his worth!
So saying, in the temple-tower he laid
The relics of the King.

These duties done,
The living claim their care. His birth, his deeds,
The general love, the general voice, have marked
Yuhidthiton for King. Bare-headed, bare
Of foot, of limb, scarf only round the loins,
The Chieftain to Mexitli's temple moved,
And knelt before the God. Tezozomoc
King over Aztlan there anointed him,
And over him, from hallowed cedar branch,
Sprinkled the holy water. Then the Priest
In a black garment robed him, figured white
With skulls and bones, a garb to emblem war,
Slaughter, and ruin, his imperial tasks.
Next in his hand the Priest a censer placed ;
And while he knelt, directing to the God
The steaming incense, thus addressed the King :
Chosen by the people, by the Gods approved,
Swear to protect thy subjects, to maintain
The worship of thy fathers, to observe
Their laws, to make the Sun pursue his course,
The clouds descend in rain, the rivers hold
Their wonted channels, and the fruits of earth
To ripen in their season. Swear, O King!
And prosper, as thou boldest good thine oath.
He raised his voice, and swore. Then on his brow
Tezozomoc the crown of Aztlan placed ;
And in the robe of emblemed royalty,
Preceded by the golden wands of state,
Yuhidthiton went forth, anointed King.