Part II, Madoc in Aztlan: XXI

A transitory gloom that sight of death
Impressed upon the assembled multitude ;
But soon the brute and unreflecting crew
Turned to their sports. Some bare their olive limbs,
And in the race contend ; with hopes and fears,
Which rouse to rage, some urge the mimic war.
Here, one upon his ample shoulders bears
A comrade's weight, upon whose head a third
Stands poised, like Mercury in act to fly.
There, other twain upon their shoulders prop
A forked beam, while on its height the third,
To nimble cadence, shifts his glancing feet,
And shakes a plume aloft, and wheels around,
With modulating sway, a wreath of bells.
Here, round a lofty mast the dancers move
Quick, to quick music ; from its top affixed,
Each holds a coloured cord, and, as they weave
The complex crossings of the mazy dance,
The checquered network twists around the tree
Its intermixture of harmonious hues.
But now a shout went forth, the Flyers mount !
And from all meaner sports the multitude
Flock to their favourite pastime. In the ground,
Branchless and barked, the trunk of some tall pine
Is planted ; near its summit a square frame ;
Four cords pass through the perforated square,
And fifty times and twice around the tree,
A mystic number, are intwined above.
Four Aztecas, equipped with wings, ascend,
And round them bind the ropes ; anon they wave
Their pinions, and, upborn on spreading plumes,
Launch on the air, and wheel in circling flight,
The lengthening cords untwisting as they fly.
A fifth above, upon the perilous point,
Dances, and shakes a flag ; and on the frame,
Others, the while, maintain their stand, . ..
Till now, with many a round, the wheeling cords
Draw near their utmost length, and toward the ground
The aerial circlers speed ; then down the ropes
They spring, and, on their way, from line to line
Leap, while the shouting multitude endure
A shuddering admiration.

On such sports,
Their feelings centered in the joy of sight,
The multitude stood gazing, when a man,
Breathless, and with broad eyes, came running on,
His pale lips trembling, and his bloodless cheek
Like one who meets a lion in his path.
The fire! the fire! the temple! he exclaimed ;
Mexitli! . . . They, astonished at his words,
Hasten toward the wonder, . . and behold !
The inner fane is sheeted white with fire.
Dumb with affright they stood ; the enquiring King
Looked to Tezozomoc ; the Priest replied,
I go! the Gods protect me! . . and therewith
He entered boldly in the house of flame.
But instant, bounding with inebriate joy,
He issues forth. ..'The God! the God! he cries.
Joy!..joy!.. the God! .. the visible hand of Heaven!
Repressing then his transport, .. Ye all know
How that in Aztlan Madoc's impious hand
Destroyed Mexitli's Image ; . . it is here,
Unbroken, and the same! . . Toward the gate
They press; they see the Giant Idol there,
The serpent girding him, his neck with hearts
Beaded, and in his hand the club, . . even such
As oft in Aztlan, on his azure throne,
They had adored the God, they see him now,
Unbroken and the same! . . Again the Priest
Entered ; again a second joy inspired
To frenzy all around ; for forth he came,
Shouting with new delight, . . for in his hand
The banner of the nation he upheld,
That banner to their fathers sent from Heaven,
By them abandoned to the conqueror.

He motioned silence, and the crowd were still.
People of Aztlan! he began, when first
Your fathers from their native land went forth,
In search of better seats, this banner came
From Heaven. The Famine and the Pestilence
Had been among them ; in their hearts the spring
Of courage was dried up: with midnight fires
Radiate, by midnight thunders heralded,
This banner came from Heaven ; and with it came
Health, valour, victory. Aztecas! again
The God restores the blessing. To the God
Move now in solemn dance of grateful joy ;
Exalt for him the song.

They formed the dance,
They raised the hymn, and sung Mexitli's praise.
Glory .to thee, the Great, the Terrible,
Mexitli, guardian God! . . From whence art thou,
O Son of Mystery ? From whence art thou,
Whose sire thy mother knew not? She at eve
Walked in the temple court, and saw from Heaven
A plume descend, as bright and beautiful,
As if some spirit had embodied there
The rainbow hues, or dipt it in the light
Of setting suns. To her it floated down ;
She placed it in her bosom, to bedeck
The altar of the God ; she sought it there ;
Amazed, she found it not; amazed, she felt
Another life infused. .. From whence art thou,
O Son of Mystery ? From whence art thou,
Whose sire thy mother knew not ?

Grief was hers,
Wonder and grief, for life was in her womb,
And her stern children with revengeful eyes
Beheld their mother's shame. She saw their frowns,
She knew their plots of blood. Where shall she look
For succour, when her sons conspire her death ?
Where hope for comfort, when her daughter when
The impious knife of murder ?. . From her womb
The voice of comfort came, the timely aid ;
Already at her breast the blow was aimed,
When forth Mexitli leapt, and in his hand
The angry spear, to punish and to save.
Glory to thee, the Great, the Terrible,
Mexitli, guardian God !

Arise and save,
Mexitli, save thy people! Dreadful one,
Arise, redeem thy city, and revenge !
An impious, an impenetrable foe,
Hath blackened thine own altars, with the blood
Of thine own priests; hath dashed thine Image down.
In vain did valour's naked breast oppose
Their mighty arms ; in vain the feeble sword
On their impenetrable mail was driven.
Not against thee, Avenger, shall their arms
Avail, nor that impenetrable mail
Resist the fiery arrows of thy wrath.
Arise, go forth in anger, and destroy !