Chapter 11

A wild place the mountains. Distant view of Ollantay-tampu.

(Enter Rumi-ñaui, torn and ragged, and covered with blood, with two attendants.)

RUMI-ÑAUI. Ah! Rumi-ñaui—Rumi-ñaui,[50] Thou art a fated rolling stone,[51] Escaped indeed, but quite alone, And this is now thy _yarahui_.

Ollantay posted on the height, Thou couldst not either fight or see, Thy men did quickly fall or flee; No room was there to move or fight.

Thou knowest now thy heart did beat And flutter like a butterfly; Thy skill thou couldst not then apply, No course was left thee but retreat.

They had recourse to a surprise, Our warriors immolated quite. Ah! that alone could turn thee white— From shame like that, canst e’er arise?

By thousands did thy warriors fall, I hardly could alone escape, With open mouth fell death did gape, A great disaster did befall.

Holding that traitor to be brave, I sought to meet him face to face— Rushing to seek him with my mace, I nearly found a warrior’s grave.

My army then was near the hill, When suddenly the massive stones Came crashing down, with cries and moans, While clarions sounded loud and shrill.

A rain of stones both great and small Down on the crowd of warriors crashed, On every side destruction flashed, Thy heart the slaughter did appal.

Like a strong flood the blood did flow, Inundating the ravine; So sad a sight thou ne’er hast seen— No man survived to strike a blow.

O thou who art by this disgraced, What figure canst thou ever show Before the king, who seeks to know The truth, which must be faced?

’Tis better far myself to kill, Or losing every scrap of hope, To hang my body with this rope.

(Takes a sling off his cap—going.)

Yet may it not be useful still?

(Turns again.)

When bold Ollantay’s end has come.[52]

(Exit.)