Classic Poem

Who comes to Aztlan, bounding like a deer
Along the plain? — The herald of success;
For, lo! his locks are braided, and his loins
Cinctured with white; and see, he lifts the shield,
And brandishes the sword. The populace
Flock round, impatient for the tale of joy,
And follow to the palace in his path.
Joy! joy! the Tiger hath achieved his quest!
They bring a captive home! — Triumphantly
Coanocotzin and his Chiefs go forth
To greet the youth triumphant, and receive
The victim, whom the gracious gods have given,
Sure omen and first fruits of victory.
A woman leads the train, young, beautiful, —
More beautiful for that translucent joy
Flushing her cheek, and sparkling in her eye; —
Her hair is twined with festal flowers, her robe
With flowing wreaths adorn'd; she holds a child,
He, too, bedeck'd and garlanded with flowers,
And, lifting him, with agile force of arm,
In graceful action, to harmonious step
Accordant, leads the dance. It is the wife
Of Tlalala, who, with his child, goes forth
To meet her hero husband.
And behold,
The Tiger comes! and ere the shouts and sounds
Of gratulation cease, his followers bear
The captive Prince. At that so welcome sight,
Loud rose the glad acclaim; nor knew they yet
That he who there lay patient in his bonds,
Expecting the inevitable lot,
Was Madoc. Patient in his bonds he lay,
Exhausted with vain efforts, hopeless now,
And silently resign'd. But when the King
Approach'd the prisoner, and beheld his face,
And knew the Chief of Strangers, at that sound
Electric joy shot through the multitude,
And, like the raging of the hurricane,
Their thundering transports peal'd. A deeper joy,
A nobler triumph, kindled Tlalala,
As, limb by limb, his eye survey'd the Prince,
With a calm fierceness. And, by this, the Priests
Approach'd their victim, clad in vestments white
Of sacrifice, which from the shoulders fell,
As from the breast, unbending, broad, and straight,
Leaving their black arms bare. The blood-red robe,
The turquoise pendent from his down-drawn lip,
The crown of glossy plumage, whose green hue
Vied with his emerald ear-drops, mark'd their Chief,
Tezozomoc: his thin and ghastly cheek,
Which — save the temple serpents, when he brought
Their human banquet, — never living eye
Rejoiced to see, became more ghastly now,
As in Mexitli's name, upon the Prince
He laid his murtherous hand. But, as he spake,
Up darted Tlalala his eagle glance. —
Away! away! he shall not perish so!
The warrior cried. — Not tamely, by the knife,
Nor on the jasper stone, his blood shall flow!
The Gods of Aztlan love a Warrior Priest!
I am their Priest to-day!
A murmuring
Ran through the train; nor waited he to hear
Denial thence; but on the multitude
Aloud he call'd: — When first our fathers seized
This land, there was a savage chief who stepp'd
Their progress. He had gained the rank he bore,
By long probation: stripes, which laid his flesh
All bleeding bare, had forced not one complaint;
Not when the working bowels might be seen,
One movement; hand-bound, he had been confined
Where myriad insects on his nakedness
Infix'd their venomous anger, and no start,
No shudder, shook his frame; last in a net
Suspended, he had felt the agony
Of fire, which to his bones and marrow pierced,
And breathed the suffocating smoke which fill'd
His lungs with fire, without a groan, a breath,
A look betokening sense; so gallantly
Had he subdued his nature. This brave man
Met Aztlan in the war, and put her Chiefs
To shame. Our Elders have not yet forgot
How from the slaughtered brother of their King
He stripp'd the skin, and formed of it a drum,
Whose sound affrighted armies. With this man
My father coped in battle; here he led him,
An offering to the God; and man to man,
He slew him here in fight. I was a child,
Just old enough to lift my father's shield;
But I remember, on that glorious day,
When from the sacred combat he return'd,
His red hands reeking with the hot heart's blood,
How in his arms he took me, and besought
The God whom he had served, to bless his boy,
And make me like my father. Men of Aztlan,
Mexitli heard his prayer; — here I have brought
The Stranger-Chief, the noblest sacrifice
That ever graced the altar of the God;
Let then his death be noble! so my boy
Shall, in the day of battle, think of me;
And as I follow'd my brave father's steps,
Pursue my path of glory.
Ere the Priest
Could frame denial, had the Monarch's look
Given his assent. — Refuse not this, he said,
O servant of the Gods! He hath not here
His arms to save him; and the Tiger's strength
Yields to no mortal might. Then for his sword
He call'd, and bade Yuhidthiton address
The Stranger-Chief.
Yuhidthiton began, —
The Gods of Aztlan triumph, and thy blood
Must wet their altars. Prince, thou shalt not die
The coward's death; but, sworded, and in fight,
Fall as becomes the valiant. Should thine arm
Subdue in battle six successive foes,
Life, liberty, and glory, will repay
The noble conquest. Madoc, hope not this!
Strong are the brave of Aztlan!
Then they loosed
The Ocean Chieftain's bonds; they rent away
His garments; and with songs and shouts of joy,
They led him to the Stone of Sacrifice.
Round was that Stone of blood; the half-raised arm
Of one of manly growth, who stood below,
Might rest upon its height; the circle small,
An active boy might almost bound across.
Nor needed for the combat ampler space;
For in the centre was the prisoner's foot
Fast fetter'd down. Thus fetter'd, Madoc stood.
He held a buckler, light and small, of cane
O'erlaid with beaten gold; his sword, the King,
Honoring a noble enemy, had given,
A weapon tried in war, — to Madoc's grasp
Strange and unwieldy: 'twas a broad, strong staff,
Set thick with transverse stones, on either side
Keen-edged as Syrian steel. But when he felt
The weapon, Madoc call'd to mind his deeds
Done on the Saxon in his father's land,
And hope arose within him. Nor, though now
Naked he stood, did fear for that assail
His steady heart; for often had he seen
His gallant countrymen, with naked breasts,
Rush on their iron-coated enemy,
And win the conquest.
Now hath Tlalala
Array'd himself for battle. First he donn'd
A gipion, quilted close of gossampine;
O'er that a jointed mail of plates of gold,
Bespotted like the tiger's speckled pride,
To speak his rank; it clad his arms half-way,
Half-way his thighs; but cuishes had he none,
Nor gauntlets, nor feet-armor. On his helm
There yawn'd the semblance of a tiger's head,
The long, white teeth extended, as for prey
Proud crest, to blazon his proud title forth
And now toward the fatal stage equipp'd
For fight he went; when, from the press be
A warrior's voice was heard, and clad in arm
And shaking in his angry grasp the sword,
Ocellopan rush'd on, and cried aloud,
And for himself the holy combat claim'd.
The Tiger, heedless of his clamor, sprung
Upon the stone, and turn'd him to war.
Fierce leaping forward came Ocellopan,
And bounded up the ascent, and seized his arm
Why wouldst thou rob me of a deed like this
Equal our peril in the enterprise,
Equal our merit; — thou wouldst reap alone
The guerdon! Never shall my children lift
Their little hands at thee, and say, Lo! there
The Chief who slew the White King! — Tlalalb
Trust to the lot, or turn on me, and prove,
By the best chance to which the brave appeal,
Who best deserves this glory!
Stung to wrath,
The Tiger answer'd not; he raised his sword,
And they had rushed to battle; but the Priests
Came hastening up, and by their common Gods
And by their common country, bade them cease
Their impious strife, and let the lot decide
From whom Mexitli should that day receive
His noble victim. Both unsatisfied,
But both obedient, heard. Two equal shafts,
As outwardly they seem'd, the Paba brought;
His mantle hid their points; and Tlalala
Drew forth the broken stave. A bitter smile
Darken'd his cheek, as angrily he cast
To earth the hostile lot. — Shedder of Blood,
Thine is the first adventure! he exclaim'd;
But thou mayst perish here! — and in his heart
The Tiger hoped Ocellopan might fall,
As sullenly retiring from the stage,
He mingled with the crowd.
And now opposed
In battle, on the Stone of Sacrifice,
Prince Madoc and the Life-Destroyer stood.
This clad in arms complete, free to advance
In quick assault, or shun the threaten'd blow,
Wielding his wonted sword; the other, stripp'd,
Save of that fragile shield, of all defence;
His weapon strange and cumbrous; and pinn's down,
Disabled from all onset, all retreat.

With looks of greedy joy, Ocellopan
Survey'd his foe, and wonder'd to behold
The breast so broad, the bare and brawny limbs.
Of matchless strength. The eye of Madoc, too,
Dwelt on his foe; his countenance was calm,
Something more pale than wonted; like a man
Prepared to meet his death. The Azteca
Fiercely began the fight; now here, now there
Aright, aleft, above, below, he wheel'd
The rapid sword: still Madoc's rapid eye
Pursued the motion, and his ready shield,
In prompt interposition, caught the blow,
Or turn'd its edge aside. Nor did the Prince
Yet aim the sword to wound, but held it forth
Another shield, to save him, till his hand,
Familiar with its weight and shape uncouth,
Might wield it well to vengeance. Thus he stood,
Baffling the impatient enemy, who now
Wax'd wrathful, thus to waste, in idle strokes,
Reiterate so oft, his bootless strength.
And now yet more exasperate he grew;
For from the eager multitude was heard,
Amid the din of undistinguish'd sounds,
The Tiger's murmur'd name, as though they thought,
Had he been on the Stone, ere this, besure,
The Gods had tasted of their sacrifice,
Now all too long delayed. Then fiercelier,
And yet more rapidly, he drove the sword;
But still the wary Prince or met its fall,
And broke the force, or bent him from the blow;
And now retiring, and advancing now,
As one free foot permitted, still provoked,
And baffled still the savage; and sometimes
With cautious strength did Madoc aim attack,
Mastering each moment now with abler sway
The acquainted sword. But, though as yet unharm'd
In life or limb, more perilous the strife
Grew momently; for with repeated strokes,
Battered and broken now, the shield hung loose;
And shouts of triumph from the multitude
Arose, as piecemeal they beheld it fall,
And saw the Prince exposed.
That welcome sight,
Those welcome sounds, inspired Ocellopan;
He felt each limb new-strung. Impatient now
Of conquest long delay'd, with wilder rage
He drives the weapon; Madoc's lifted sword
Received its edge, and shiver'd with the blow.
A shriek of transport burst from all around;
For lo! the White King, shieldless, weaponless,
Naked before his foe! That savage foe,
Dallying with the delight of victory,
Drew back a moment to enjoy the sight,
Then yell'd in triumph, and sprang on to give
The consummating blow. Madoc beheld
The coming death; he darted up his hand
Instinctively to save, and caught the wrist
In its mid fall, and drove with desperate force
The splintered truncheon of his broken sword
Full in the enemy's face. Beneath his eye
It broke its way, and where the nasal nerves
Branch in fine fibrils o'er their mazy seat,
Burst through, and, slanting upward, in the brain
Buried its jagged point.
Madoc himself
Stood at his fall astonished, at escape
Unhoped, and strange success. The multitude
Beheld, and they were silent, and they stood
Gazing in terror. But far other thoughts
Rose in the Tiger's heart; it was a joy
To Tlalala; and forth he sprung, and up
The Stone of Sacrifice, and call'd aloud
To bring the Prince another sword and shield,
For his last strife. Then, in that interval,
Upon Ocellopan he fixed his eyes,
Contemplating the dead, as though thereby
To kindle in his heart a fiercer thirst
For vengeance. Nor to Madoc was the sting
Of anger wanting, when in Tlalala
He knew the captive whom his mercy freed,
The man whose ambush had that day destroyed
Young Hoel and himself; — for sure he deem'd
Young Hoel was with God, and he himself
At his death day arrived. And now he grasp'd
A second sword, and held another shield;
And from the Stone of Blood Ocellopan
Was borne away; and, fresh in arms, and fierce
With all that makes a savage thirst for war, —
Hope, vengeance, courage, superstitious hate, —
A second foe came on. By this the Prince
Could wield his weapon well; and dreading now
Lest, in protracted combat, he might stand
Again defenceless, he put forth his strength,
As oft assailing as assailed, and watch'd
So well the Tiger's motions, and received
The Tiger's blows so warily, and aimed
His own so fierce and fast, that in the crowd
Doubt and alarm prevailed. Ilanquel grew
Pale at her husband's danger; and she clasp'd
The infant to her breast, whom late she held
On high, to see his victory. The throng
Of the beholders silently look'd on;
And in their silence might at times be heard
An indrawn breath of terror; and the Priests
Angrily murmured, that in evil hour,
Coanocotzin had indulged the pride
Of vaunting valor, and from certain death
Reprieved the foe.
But now a murmur rose
Amid the multitude; and they who stood
So thickly throng'd, and with such eager eyes
Late watch'd the fight, hastily now broke up,
And with disorder'd speed and sudden arms,
Ran to the city gates. More eager now,
Conscious of what had chanced, fought Tlalala
And hope invigorated Madoc's heart;
For well he ween'd Cadwallon was at hand,
Leading his gallant friends. Aright he ween'd;
At hand Cadwallon was! His gallant friends
Came from the mountains with impetuous speed,
To save or to revenge. Nor long endured
The combat now: the Priests ascend the stone,
And bid the Tiger hasten to defend
His country and his Gods; and, hand and foot,
Binding the captive Prince, they bear him thence,
And lay him in the temple. Then his heart
Resign'd itself to death, and Madoc thought
Of Llaian and Goervyl; and he felt
That death was dreadful. But not so the King
Permitted; but not so had Heaven decreed;
For noble was the King of Aztlan's heart,
And pure his tongue from falsehood: he had said,
That by the warrior's death should Madoc die;
Nor dared the Pabas violently break
The irrevocable word. There Madoc lay
In solitude; the distant battle reach'd
His ear; inactive and in bonds he lay,
Expecting the dread issue, and almost
Wish'd for the perils of the fight again.