Classic Poem

THE DEFENCE OF MOMOTOMBO

( " Trouvant les tremblements de terre trop frequents. " )

Finding that earthquakes far too much prevailed,
The Spanish kings with sacred rites assailed
Volcanic mountains of the New World land,
Baptising them; and to the priestly hand
They all submitted, saving only one,
But Momotombo would not have it done.
Divers the surpliced priests who — choice of Rome —
Essayed to reach the frowning mountain's dome,
Bearing the Sacrament the Church decrees,
With eyes on Heaven fixed, but of all these —
And many were they — none were heard of more.

" Oh Momotombo, thou colossus hoar,
Who ponderest by the sea, whilst thou hast made
Tiara of thy crater's flame and shade,
Why, when thy dreadful threshold we draw near,
And bring thee God, why wilt thou not us hear? "
Stayed was the belching of its lava tide,
While gravely Momotombo thus replied:

" I liked not much the god you chased away,
His jaws were black with gory rot alway.
Eater of human flesh was he, this god,
And miser hiding gold beneath the sod.
His cave, the porch to frightful yard, was made
Sepulchral Temple where his Pontiff stayed,
The slaughterer deaf, deformed, of hideous mien,
Bleeding between his teeth was ever seen
A corpse, while round his wrists the serpents twined;
And horrid skeletons of human kind
Grinn'd at his feet. Oh cruel were the ways
Of shocking murder in those dreadful days,
Blackening the firmament sublime. At this
I groaned from out the depths of my abyss.
Thus when came proudly o'er the trembling sea
White men, from that side whence unfailingly
The morning ever breaks, it seemed to me
That to receive them well were only wise.

" White men," said I, " resemble azure skies,
Surely the colour of their souls we trace,
It must be like the colour of their face,
The god that these men worship must be good;
Murders will cease," and I in happy mood
Rejoiced — the ancient priest I hated so;
But when the new one's work began to show,
When I could see the Inquisition flame,
That ne'er was quenched, taking the Holy name,
A mournful torch that to my level reached,
Just Heaven! when thus you daily taught and preached,
And Torquemada tried with fiery might
To dissipate the darkness of the night
Of savage heathendom — when I saw then
How He would civilize — at Lima, when
I saw the osier giants, in the strife,
Filled to the brim with childish baby life
Crackling above the mighty furnace heat,
And curls of smoke round burning women meet,
Choked by the stench of every horrid deed,
Auto-da-fe according to your creed,
I — who but shadow brightly burn away —
Repented of my gladness, forced to say,
When looking at the strangers' god more near,
" To change is not worth while it doth appear!" "