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From the First Book.
BEYOND the vast Peruvian realms, whose wealth | |
| Supports the Iberian throne, and freights whole fleets | |
| To Europe’s hostile strand; a wond’rous ridge | |
| Of cumb’rous hills, vast, huge, and piled abrupt, | |
| Ascend above the clouds, and bound the view | 5 |
| From sky to sky; aloft bleak winter holds | |
| Eternal reign, and from the mountain’s brow, | |
| All cover’d o’er with ice, and white with snow, | |
| Looks hideous down, breathes out his chilling gales, | |
| And the sad wand’rer freezes to the ground, | 10 |
| A ghastly statue, with the dread of death, | |
| Still graved upon his face; sometimes he bids | |
| The whirlwinds roar, and with destruction wing’d | |
| Impels it on the realms below, and oft, | |
| Assembling clouds on clouds, draws o’er the world | 15 |
| A midnight darkness; and with sudden gush | |
| Pours down the rain in dreadful showers, and drowns | |
| The hope of harvest on the field. Where ends | |
| This rocky chain, succeeds a dreary length | |
| Of barren sands, torn up by every wind, | 20 |
| And roll’d in heaps, like the vex’d billows | |
| On the stormy main: around, a frightful, wild, | |
| And horrid prospect, tires the lab’ring eye | |
| In gazing for its end. No vernal green | |
| E’er cheers the yellow waste; no bubbling spring | 25 |
| Its cooling azure rolls along; no rains, | |
| Nor kindly dews refresh the burning soil: | |
| But nature looks as crumbled into dust; | |
| And ruin, sole possessor of the void. | |
| Yet on the sterile desert’s utmost verge, | 30 |
| And the rude mountain’s skirt, the Spaniards found | |
| A land of plenty, where enlivening Spring | |
| And fruitful Autumn, with alternate change, | |
| Rejoiced the year; where wealth immense (the hope | |
| And end of all their execrable deeds,) | 35 |
| Was found in earth’s dark womb, and every joy | |
| Invited their abode. Such Peru was; | |
| And when, subjected to their arms, its tribes | |
| Became the vassals of their power, athwart | |
| This ridge of mountains they pursued | 40 |
| Their way to conquest, and in Chili’s realms, | |
| Resolved to fix their arbitrary rule, | |
| Though death in all its horrid forms opposed | |
| Their common toil, and not a soul return’d | |
| In safety from the war. There Zeuma reign’d, | 45 |
| A prince, who in the opening bloom of youth, | |
| Preferr’d his country’s welfare to his own. * * * * * * | |
| Once, as with ardent zeal he urged the chase, | |
| And press’d, with matchless swiftness, to secure | |
| His frighted prey, through the thick wood, from far | 50 |
| He spied, low-bending o’er the limpid stream, | |
| An aged hermit; who seem’d wrapp’d in thought | |
| And solitary muse; behind him, arch’d | |
| By nature in the hollow rock, appear’d | |
| A gloomy cave, o’ergrown with moss, his calm | 55 |
| Abode; above, with difficult ascent, | |
| Arose the hill, with vivid verdure crown’d; | |
| Around, the forest spread its grateful shade, | |
| And gently murmur’d to the gale; beneath, | |
| Spontaneous flowers adorn’d the grassy turf, | 60 |
| And sweeten’d every breeze: long gazed the king | |
| On the enchanting scene, and wonder’d much | |
| It had till then escaped his haunt; when, waked | |
| By his approaching step, the father rose, | |
| And with meek rev’rence thus began. “’T is not, | 65 |
| Great prince, by accident you ’ve stray’d to this | |
| Sequester’d place, but by divine decree; | |
| That you may know what instant dangers threat | |
| Your rule, what miseries your realms; | |
| That no surprise enervate your resolves | 70 |
| When war alarms you to the field; no dread | |
| Of stranger nations, or unusual arms | |
| Confuse the combat, and in foul retreat | |
| Disperse your routed squadrons o’er the plain.” | |
| He said, and led him, by a winding way, | 75 |
| To the high brow of that delightful hill, | |
| And bid him view the prospect round. He look’d, | |
| And lo! the whole world’s globe seem’d stretch’d along | |
| Before his view, so far the landscape reach’d, | |
| So many objects crowded on the eye; | 80 |
| On this side cities stand, and forests wave, | |
| Green fields extend, and gentle rivers glide; | |
| O’erhanging precipices frown, and hills | |
| Ascend on high: on this the white sea foams, | |
| And on the nearer shores, with speedy roll, | 85 |
| Breaks wide its hasty billows. Zeuma starts | |
| At the surprising roar, yet still intent, | |
| Beholds the restless wave, when, new and strange! | |
| High tossing on the angry surge appear | |
| Vast floating piles, that with capacious wings | 90 |
| Collect the breathing gale, and by degrees | |
| Approach the strand; with thund’ring voice discharge | |
| Huge streams of ruddy flame, in cloudy smoke | |
| Involved, and fright the nations round. Again | |
| The monarch starts, astonish’d at the noise, | 95 |
| While, down their steepy sides, descend a throng | |
| Of bearded men, of foreign look and mien; | |
| That brighten’d o’er the plain with shining arms, | |
| And all the pomp of war. To them succeeds | |
| An herd of creatures, fierce and active, train’d | 100 |
| To battle, and the din of arms; on which | |
| The warriors mounting, all proceed, in firm | |
| And regular array, across the field; | |
| Then sound a charge; and o’er the tranquil glebe | |
| Let loose destruction, and with slaughter glut | 105 |
| The sword; with dire oppressive force, and stern | |
| Dominion fix their barb’rous rule, and lord | |
| It o’er the groaning tribes. With horror struck, | |
| Sad Zeuma overlook’d the scene, and mourn’d | |
| The dire event: when thus the hoary sage | 110 |
| His lore renew’d. “These are the foes that now | |
| Are marching to invade your land; and such | |
| The ills that must afflict your tribes; see o’er | |
| Yon ridge of hills, contemning all the force | |
| Of freezing cold, and wintry gales, they pass | 115 |
| Unwearied with the toil: then haste away, | |
| Alarm your people, and with princely care | |
| Draw all your squadrons to the field. If aught | |
| Of doubt yet hangs upon your mind, | |
| Again survey the landscape, and believe | 120 |
| My mission from above.” He look’d, and all | |
| Th’ illusive prospect vanish’d from the view, | |
| And nought remain’d, but one vast length of wood, | |
| That murm’ring bow’d before the wanton gale. | |
| So, where the setting sun, with upward ray | 125 |
| Adorns the evening clouds in fleecy gold, | |
| And purple deeply dyed, th’ attentive eye, | |
| With wonder, views a maze of objects dawn | |
| In bright confusion o’er the blue sky’s edge, | |
| And with a round of never ceasing change | 130 |
| Perplex the doubtful scene, till night’s deep shade, | |
| Ascending swiftly, darkens o’er the heavens, | |
| And in grey vapors sweeps the whole away. * * * * * * | |
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From the Third Book.
—He said; and, turning swiftly round, began | |
| His solemn charms; when sudden darkness veil’d | 135 |
| The starry skies, and hollow murm’ring gales | |
| Sung dreadful in the trees; red meteors flash’d | |
| Along the troubled air; and, from beneath, | |
| Loud inbred thunders shook the steadfast earth; | |
| Unnumber’d ghosts, all pale with hostile wounds, | 140 |
| Stalk’d o’er the green, and fill’d the night’s dark gloom | |
| With ghastly terror and distracting groans: | |
| Silence succeeds, vanish the ghosts away, | |
| And earth no longer shakes; the lab’ring clouds | |
| Unveil’d the heavens, and, in their stony caves, | 145 |
| The slumb’ring winds their weary pinions rest. | |
| Then sleep’s still influence seized the drowsy king, | |
| And down he sunk, unable to resist | |
| The pressing weight of the prevailing god: | |
| But inspiration waked his inward powers, | 150 |
| And roused light fancy, in her thousand forms, | |
| To strike the wond’rous vision on the mind. | |
| First his great father’s shade, with glory crown’d, | |
| Descends, and, through the fluid realms of air, | |
| Bears the young monarch, swift as tempests fly | 155 |
| When the grim ruler of the raging winds, | |
| Drives down their fury o’er the Atlantic seas, | |
| And, in a moment, to the farthest verge | |
| Of the vex’d ocean, heaps the roaring waves. | |
| The crystal gates of Cynthia’s silver orb | 160 |
| Unfold, and, up the portals’ bright ascent, | |
| The rev’rend guardian leads his earthly charge | |
| Entranced in raptures; when the glorious scene, | |
| To his attentive view, unveil’d its charms: | |
| For there soft pleasures, in eternal rounds, | 165 |
| For ever circle with an easy wing; | |
| All that the realms of either India boast, | |
| Or Afric’s regions, or Europa’s lands, | |
| By turns delight the happy tribes, and more, | |
| Ten thousand more, than man’s experience knows, | 170 |
| Or fancy forms, maintain eternal rule, | |
| And bless the immortals with continual joy. | |
| Music, through every shade sweet warbling breathes | |
| Soft gladness on the soul; the dulcet voice | |
| Attempers the respondent lyre. * * * * * * | 175 |
| —Eternal verdure cheers the gladsome green, | |
| And odorous flowers, for ever blooming, wast | |
| Unfading sweets, and fume the wanton gale: | |
| From the slope hills, descend the trickling streams, | |
| And, through the fruitful vales, o’er sands of gold, | 180 |
| In gentle currents, smoothly roll along; | |
| The mountain’s brow with tufted woods is crown’d, | |
| With sparkling gems the silent grot ’s emblazed, | |
| And luscious plenty gladdens every field: | |
| No wintry snows, or summer suns infest | 185 |
| The blissful climes, nor war’s destructive rage | |
| Lays waste the regions, and deforms the plain; | |
| But heaven-born love and everlasting spring | |
| Dance hand in hand, and lead the smiling hours, | |
| All gay with newborn happiness and joy. | 190 |
| Through spicy forests, and through flowery fields, | |
| The sweet abode of souls for ever bless’d! | |
| The princely ghost his raptured offspring led | |
| To that sublime retreat, where patriot shades, | |
| In matchless pleasures, and supreme delights, | 195 |
| Enjoy the great reward their virtues earn’d, | |
| With long fatigue, and endless toils, below; | |
| There pointed, to his view, the illustrious chiefs, | |
| Who, scorning bribes, and all the baits of sense, | |
| Trod, with undaunted soul, the paths of death, | 200 |
| When freedom claim’d the sword, and honor call’d to arms. | |
| Zymron, 1 the best, and bravest of mankind, | |
| Towers with superior glory, and presides | |
| Amidst the noblest heroes of the globe; | |
| Dreadless he looks, as when his rightful arms | 205 |
| O’ercame the tyrants of an hundred realms, | |
| And made that bold attempt to free the western world. | |
| His mighty ancestor, of deathless name, | |
| The next in order treads the social green, | |
| Round his distinguish’d head bright virtue ties | 210 |
| The laurel wreath, and glories in his deeds; | |
| Nations, preserved by his indulgent care, | |
| Shout his applause, and fame’s eternal trump, | |
| Fill’d with his praises, shakes the tyrant’s throne. | |
| Alascar, chief of Montezeuma’s line, | 215 |
| Stands at his side, severe his awful brow, | |
| As when, impartial to his country’s laws, | |
| He doom’d his sons to ignominious death, | |
| And, in a patriot’s zeal, restrain’d the parent’s tears. | |
| The brave Atalgah, steadfast as the earth | 220 |
| Pois’d on itself, and glorious as the sun | |
| In its meridian height, transported hears | |
| The wonders of his toilsome march rehearsed | |
| With loud acclaim, when, scorching in the heat, | |
| He patient bore the raging pangs of thirst, | 225 |
| Till the last fainting soldier was refresh’d | |
| With frequent draughts from the enlivening spring. | |
| See! fair Amrena, with majestic front, | |
| And eye sublime, among the mightiest stand, | |
| Fond of the liquid death, which freed her soul | 230 |
| From the proud insults of the victor’s rage; | |
| Surrounding chiefs admire the heroic deed, | |
| And hail her dauntless mind which dared to lead | |
| An host to war, and, by the dint of sword, | |
| Restore lost freedom to her mourning realm. | 235 |
| A thousand more, the champions of the world! | |
| Dwell here encircled with superior bliss, | |
| And dream of dangers and of toil no more. * * * * * * | |
| —“But now, descending to the seats of wo, | |
| And vengeful torments, where the sons of men | 240 |
| Are rack’d for all the enormities of life, | |
| We for a while must leave these happy plains.” | |
| He said; and, plunging from the argent world, | |
| Sails on the winds, and bears his son along: | |
| At last upon a huge volcano’s brink, | 245 |
| With clouds of gloomy smoke involved, they stoop, | |
| And sink immediate down the vast profound; | |
| Nor stay’d till (through unnumber’d caverns pass’d, | |
| The abodes of fear, of horror and despair,) | |
| They reach’d the dreadful dungeons of the great. | 250 |
| Where, bound in adamantine chains, they lie | |
| On beds of raging fire, and no hope | |
| Of comfort, or a kind reprieve from pain; | |
| From pain, which every hour increasing, gives | |
| A keener twinge; while fiercer flames prepare | 255 |
| Their eager vengeance, and exert their rage; | |
| While round, the sad companions of their crimes, | |
| Condemn’d to endless woe, attend their lords, | |
| And aid the furies, and increase the fires. | |
| Here 2 haughty Nimroc, plunged in burning lakes, | 260 |
| And deeply drench’d beneath the sulphurous wave, | |
| No longer grasps at universal rule, | |
| Or wastes the nations with destructive arms; | |
| But, inly tortured with incessant pangs, | |
| Reflects with horror on his impious schemes. | 265 |
| Fix’d in a ruddy car of burning steel, | |
| With sullen sadness, proud Guascara mourns | |
| His fond ambition to be thought a god, | |
| While, o’er the scorching soil, he ’s dragged along, | |
| And scornful dæmons aggravate his wo, | 270 |
| With pageant grandeur, and disdainful state. | |
| Tlaxcalla’s 3 vaunt, great Zagnar’s martial son, | |
| Extended on the rack, no more complains | |
| That realms are wanting to employ his sword; | |
| But, circled with innumerable ghosts, | 275 |
| Who print their keenest vengeance on his soul, | |
| For all the wrongs, and slaughters of his reign, | |
| Howls out repentance to the deafen’d skies, | |
| And shakes hell’s concave with continual groans. | |
| Ten thousand thousand more, whom fame records | 280 |
| As the dread tyrants of the tortured globe, | |
| ’Midst the dire rigors of surrounding flames, | |
| Clank their huge fetters, and, with ceaseless yell, | |
| Bewail the frantic fury of their lives, | |
| Which forced down all the vengeance of the gods. | 285 |
| This dreadful scene survey’d, again the ghost | |
| Broke the long silence, and his lore renew’d; | |
| “These, these are they, the execrable souls, | |
| Who vaunted heavenly birth, yet scorning truth, | |
| And virtue’s sacred laws, acted worse deeds | 290 |
| Than all the infernals could inspire; the worst, | |
| The basest of the sons of men, whose joy | |
| Was murther, whose delight was death, who thought. | |
| Mankind was destined only to adore | |
| Their transient glories, live upon their breath; | 295 |
| Who laugh’d at justice, trampled on the laws, | |
| And gave whole armies to the rage of war! | |
