Chapter 5

Rise, winds of night! relentless tempests rise! Rush from the troubled clouds, and o'er me roll; In this chill pause a deeper horror lies, A wilder fear appals my shudd'ring soul.-- 'Twas on this day[A], this hour accurst, That Nature starting from repose Heard the dire shrieks of murder burst-- From infant innocence they rose, And shook these solemn towers!-- I shudd'ring pass that fatal room For ages wrapt in central gloom;-- I shudd'ring pass that iron door Which Fate perchance unlocks no more; Death, smear'd with blood, o'er the dark portal lowers.

[A] The anniversary of the murder of Edward the Fifth, and his brother Richard, Duke of York.

II.

How fearfully my step resounds Along these lonely bounds:-- Spare, savage blast! the taper's quiv'ring fires, Deep in these gath'ring shades its flame expires. Ye host of heaven! the door recedes-- It mocks my grasp--what unseen hands Have burst its iron bands? No mortal force this gate unbarr'd Where danger lives, which terrors guard-- Dread powers! its screaming hinges close On this dire scene of impious deeds-- My feet are fix'd!--Dismay has bound My step on this polluted ground-- But lo! the pitying moon, a line of light Athwart the horrid darkness dimly throws, And from yon grated window chases night.--

III.

Ye visions that before me roll, That freeze my blood, that shake my soul! Are ye the phantoms of a dream? Pale spectres! are ye what ye seem? They glide more near-- Their forms unfold! Fix'd are their eyes, on me they bend-- Their glaring look is cold! And hark!--I hear Sounds that the throbbing pulse of life suspend.

IV.

"No wild illusion cheats thy sight "With shapes that only live in night-- "Mark the native glories spread "Around my bleeding brow! "The crown of Albion wreath'd my head, "And Gallia's lilies[A] twin'd below-- "When my father shook his spear, "When his banner sought the skies, "Her baffled host recoil'd with fear, "Nor turn'd their shrinking eyes:-- "Soon as the daring eagle springs "To bask in heav'n's empyreal light, "The vultures ply their baleful wings, "A cloud of deep'ning colour marks their flight, "Staining the golden day:-- "But see! amid the rav'nous brood "A bird of fiercer aspect soar-- "The spirits of a rival race[B], "Hang on the noxious blast, and trace, "With gloomy joy his destin'd prey; "Inflame th' ambitious with that thirsts for blood, "And plunge his talons deep in kindred gore.

[A] Henry the Sixth, crowned when an infant, at Paris. [B] Richard the Third, by murdering so many near relations, seemed to revenge the sufferings of Henry the Sixth, and his family, on the House of York.

V.

"View the stern form that hovers nigh, "Fierce rolls his dauntless eye "In scorn of hideous death; "Till starting at a brother's[A] name, "Horror shrinks his glowing frame, "Locks the half-utter'd groan, "And chills the parting breath:-- "Astonish'd Nature heav'd a moan! "When her affrighted eye beheld the hands "She form'd to cherish, rend her holy bands.

[A] Richard the Third, who murdered his brother the Duke of Clarence.

VI.

"Look where a royal infant[A] kneels, "Shrieking, and agoniz'd with fear, "He sees the dagger pointed near "A much-lov'd brother's[B] breast, "And tells an absent mother all he feels:-- "His eager eye he casts around; "Where shall her guardian form be found, "On which his eager eye would rest! "On her he calls in accents wild, "And wonders why her step is slow "To save her suff'ring child!-- "Rob'd in the regal garb, his brother stands "In more majestic woe-- "And meets the impious stroke with bosom bare; "Then fearless grasps the murd'rer's hands, "And asks the minister of hell to spare "The child whose feeble arms sustain "His bleeding form from cruel Death.-- "In vain fraternal fondness pleads "For cold is now his livid cheek, "And cold his last, expiring breath: "And now with aspect meek, "The infant lifts his mournful eye, "And asks with trembling voice, to die, "If death will cure his heaving heart of pain-- "His heaving heart now bleeds-- "Foul tyrant! o'er the gilded hour "That beams with all the blaze of power, "Remorse shall spread her thickest shroud; "The furies in thy tortur'd ear "Shall howl, with curses deep, and loud, "And wake distracting fear! "I see the ghastly spectre rise, "Whose blood is cold, whose hollow eyes "Seem from his head to start-- "With upright hair, and shiv'ring heart, Dark o'er thy midnight couch he bends, And clasps thy shrinking frame, thy impious spirit rends."

[A] Richard Duke of York. [B] Edward the Fifth.

VII.

Now his thrilling accents die-- His shape eludes my searching eye-- But who is he[A], convuls'd with pain, That writhes in every swelling vein? Yet in so deep, so wild a groan, A sharper anguish seems to live Than life's expiring pang can give:-- He dies deserted, and alone-- If pity can allay thy woes Sad spirit they shall find repose-- Thy friend, thy long-lov'd friend is near! He comes to pour the parting tear, He comes to catch the parting breath-- Ah heaven! no melting look he wears, His alter'd eye with vengeance glares; Each frantic passion at his soul, 'Tis he has dash'd that venom'd bowl With agony, and death.

[A] Sir Thomas Overbury, poisoned in the Tower by Somerset.

VIII.

But whence arose that solemn call? Yon bloody phantom waves his hand, And beckons me to deeper gloom-- Rest, troubled form! I come-- Some unknown power my step impels To horror's secret cells-- "For thee I raise this sable pall, "It shrouds a ghastly band: "Stretch'd beneath, thy eye shall trace "A mangled regal race: "A thousand suns have roll'd, since light "Rush'd on their solid night-- "See, o'er that tender frame grim famine hangs, "And mocks a mother's pangs! "The last, last drop which warm'd her veins "That meagre infant drains-- "Then gnaws her fond, sustaining breast-- "Stretch'd on her feeble knees, behold "Another victim sinks to lasting rest-- "Another, yet her matron arms would fold "Who strives to reach her matron arms in vain-- "Too weak her wasted form to raise, "On him she bends her eager gaze; "She sees the soft imploring eye "That asks her dear embrace, the cure of pain-- "She sees her child at distance die-- "But now her stedfast heart can bear "Unmov'd, the pressure of despair-- "When first the winds of winter urge their course "O'er the pure stream, whose current smoothly glides, "The heaving river swells its troubled tides; "But when the bitter blast with keener force, "O'er the high wave an icy fetter throws, "The harden'd wave is fix'd in dead repose."--

IX.

"Say who that hoary form? alone he stands, "And meekly lifts his wither'd hands-- "His white beard streams with blood-- "I see him with a smile, deride "The wounds that pierce his shrivel'd side, "Whence flows a purple flood-- "But sudden pangs his bosom tear-- "On one big drop, of deeper dye, "I see him fix his haggard eye "In dark, and wild despair! "That sanguine drop which wakes his woe-- "Say, spirit! whence its source."-- "Ask no more its source to know-- "Ne'er shall mortal eye explore "Whence flow'd that drop of human gore, "Till the starting dead shall rise, "Unchain'd from earth, and mount the skies, "And time shall end his fated course."-- "Now th' unfathom'd depth behold-- "Look but once! a second glance "Wraps a heart of human mold "In death's eternal trance."

X.

"That shapeless phantom sinking slow "Deep down the vast abyss below, "Darts, thro' the mists that shroud his frame, "A horror, nature hates to name!"-- "Mortal, could thine eyes behold "All those sullen mists enfold, "Thy sinews at the sight accurst "Would wither, and thy heart-strings burst; "Death would grasp with icy hand "And drag thee to our grizly band-- "Away! the sable pall I spread, "And give to rest th' unquiet dead-- "Haste! ere its horrid shroud enclose "Thy form, benumb'd with wild affright, "And plunge thee far thro' wastes of night, "In yon black gulph's abhorr'd repose!"-- As starting at each step, I fly, Why backward turns my frantic eye, That closing portal past?-- Two sullen shades half-seen, advance!-- On me, a blasting look they cast, And fix my view with dang'rous spells, Where burning frenzy dwells!-- Again! their vengeful look--and now a speechless--

PERU. A POEM, IN SIX CANTOS.

TO MRS. MONTAGU.

While, bending at thy honour'd shrine, the Muse Pours, MONTAGU, to thee her votive strain, Thy heart will not her simple notes refuse, Or chill her timid soul with cold disdain.

O might a transient spark of genius fire The fond effusions of her fearful youth; Then should thy virtues live upon her lyre, And give to harmony the charm of truth.

Vain wish! they ask not the imperfect lay, The weak applause her trembling accents breathe; With whose pure radiance glory blends her ray, Whom fame has circled with her fairest wreathe.

Thou, who while seen with graceful step to tread Grandeur's enchanted round, can'st meekly pause To rend the veil obscurity had spread Where his lone sigh deserted Genius draws;

To lead his drooping spirit to thy fane, Where attic joy the social circle warms; Where science loves to pour her hallow'd strain, Where wit, and wisdom, blend their sep'rate charms.

And lure to cherish intellectual powers, To bid the vig'rous tides of genius roll, Unfold, in fair expansion, fancy's flowers, And wake the latent energies of soul;

Far other homage claims than flatt'ry brings The little triumphs of the proud to grace: For deeds like these a purer incense springs, Warm from the swelling heart its source we trace!

Yet not to foster the rich gifts of mind Alone can all thy lib'ral cares employ; Not to the few those gifts adorn, confin'd, They spread an ampler sphere of genuine joy.

While pleasure's lucid star illumes thy bower, Thy pity views the distant storm that bends Where want unshelter'd wastes the ling'ring hour;-- And meets the blessing that to heav'n ascends!

For this, while fame thro' each successive age On her exulting lip thy name shall breathe; While woman, pointing to thy finish'd page, Claims from imperious man the critic wreathe;

Truth on her spotless record shall enroll Each moral beauty to her spirit dear; Paint in bright characters each grace of soul-- While admiration pours a gen'rous tear.

HELEN MARIA WILLIAMS.

London, April the 24th, 1784.

ADVERTISEMENT.

That no readers of the following work may entertain expectations respecting it which it would ill satisfy, it is necessary to acquaint them, that the author has not had the presumption even to attempt a full, historical narration of the fall of the Peruvian empire. To describe that important event with accuracy, and to display with clearness and force the various causes which combined to produce it, would require all the energy of genius, and the most glowing colours of imagination. Conscious of her utter inability to execute such a design, she has only aimed at a simple detail of some few incidents that make a part of that romantic story; where the unparalleled sufferings of an innocent and amiable people, form the most affecting subjects of true pathos, while their climate, totally unlike our own, furnishes new and ample materials for poetic description.

THE ARGUMENT.

_General description of the country of Peru, and of its animal, and vegetable productions--the virtues of the people--character of_ Ataliba, _their Monarch--his love for_ Alzira--_their nuptials celebrated-- character of_ Zorai, _her father--descent of the genius of Peru-- prediction of the fate of that empire._

PERU.

CANTO THE FIRST.

Where the pacific deep in silence laves The western shore, with slow and languid waves, There, lost Peruvia, rose thy cultur'd scene, The wave an emblem of thy joy serene: There nature ever in luxuriant showers 5 Pours from her treasures, the perennial flowers; In its dark foliage plum'd, the tow'ring pine Ascends the mountain, at her call divine; The palm's wide leaf its brighter verdure spreads, And the proud cedars bow their lofty heads; 10 The citron, and the glowing orange spring, And on the gale a thousand odours fling; The guava, and the soft ananas bloom, The balsam ever drops a rich perfume: The bark, reviving shrub! Oh not in vain 15 Thy rosy blossoms tinge Peruvia's plain; Ye fost'ring gales, around those blossoms blow, Ye balmy dew-drops, o'er the tendrils flow. Lo, as the health-diffusing plant aspires, Disease, and pain, and hov'ring death retires; 20 Affection sees new lustre light the eye, And feels her vanish'd joys again are nigh. The Pacos[A], and Vicunnas[B] sport around, And the meek Lamas[C], burden'd, press the ground. Amid the vocal groves, the feather'd throng 25 Pour to the list'ning breeze their native song; The mocking-bird her varying note essays, The vain macaw his glitt'ring plume displays. While spring's warm ray the mild suffusion sheds, The plaintive humming-bird his pinion spreads; 30 His wings their colours to the sun unfold, The vivid scarlet, and the blazing gold; He sees the flower which morning tears bedew, Sinks on its breast, and drinks th' ambrosial dew: Then seeks with fond delight the social nest 35 Parental care has rear'd, and love has blest: The drops that on the blossom's light leaf hung, He bears exulting to his tender young; The grateful joy his happy accents prove, Is nature, smiling on her works of love. 40

Nor less, Peruvia, for thy favour'd clime The virtues rose, unsullied, and sublime: There melting charity, with ardor warm, Spread her wide mantle o'er th' unshelter'd form; Cheer'd with the festal song, her lib'ral toils, 45 While in the lap of age[D] she pour'd the spoils. Simplicity in every vale was found, The meek nymph smil'd, with reeds, and rushes crown'd; And innocence in light, transparent vest, Mild visitant! the gentle region blest: 50 As from her lip enchanting accents part, They thrill with pleasure the reponsive heart; And o'er the ever-blooming vales around, Soft echoes waft each undulating sound.

This happy region _Ataliba_ sway'd, 55 Whose mild behest the willing heart obey'd; Descendant of a scepter'd, sacred race, Whose origin from glowing suns they trace; And as o'er nature's form, the solar light Diffuses beauty, and inspires delight; 60 So, o'er Peruvia flow'd the lib'ral ray Of mercy, lovelier than the smile of day! In Ataliba's pure and gen'rous heart The virtues bloom'd without the aid of art. His gentle spirit, love's soft power possest, 65 And stamp'd Alzira's image on his breast; Alzira, form'd each tenderness to prove, That sooths in friendship, and that charms in love. But, ah! in vain the drooping muse would paint (Her accents languid, and her colours faint,) 70 How dear the joys love's early wishes sought, How mild his spirit, and how pure his thought, Ere wealth in sullen pomp was seen to rise, And break the artless bosom's holy ties; Blast with his touch affection's op'ning flower, 75 And chill the hand that rear'd her blissful bower. Fortune, light nymph! still bless the sordid heart, Still to thy venal slave thy gifts impart; Bright in his view may all thy meteors shine, And lost Peruvia open every mine; 80 For him the robe of eastern pomp display, The gems that ripen in the torrid ray; Collected may their guilty lustre stream Full on the eye that courts the partial beam: But Love, oh Love! should haply this late hour, 85 One softer mind avow thy genuine power; Breathe at thy altar nature's simple strain, And strew the heart's pure incense on thy fane; Give to that bosom scorning fortune's toys, Thy sweet enchantments, and thy virtuous joys; 90 Bid pleasure bloom thro' many a circling year, Which love shall wing, and constancy endear; Far from this happy clime avert the woes, The heart from alienated fondness knows; And from that agony the spirit save, 95 When unrelenting yawns the op'ning grave; When death dissolves the ties for ever dear; When frantic passion pours her parting tear; With all the cherish'd pains affection feels, Hangs on the quiv'ring lip, that silence seals; 100 Views fondness struggling in the closing eye, And marks it mingling in the falt'ring sigh; As the lov'd form, while folded to her breast, On earth's cold bosom seeks more lasting rest! Leave her fond soul in hopeless griefs to mourn, 105 Clasp the pale corse, and bathe th' unconscious urn;-- Mild, to the wounds that pierce her bleeding heart, Nature's expiring pang, and death's keen dart.

Pure was the lustre of the orient ray, That joyful wak'd Alzira's nuptial day: 110 Her auburn hair, spread loosely to the wind, The virgin train, with rosy chaplets bind; The scented flowers that form her bridal wreathe, A deeper hue, a richer fragrance breathe. The gentle tribe now sought the hallow'd fane, 115 Where warbling vestals pour'd the choral strain: There aged Zorai, his Alzira prest With love parental, to his anxious breast: Priest of the sun, within the sacred shrine His fervent spirit breath'd the strain divine; 120 With glowing hand, the guiltless off'ring spread, With pious zeal the pure libation shed; Nor vain the incense of erroneous praise When meek devotion's soul the tribute pays; On wings of purity behold it rise, 125 While bending mercy wafts it to the skies!

Peruvia! oh delightful land; in vain The virtues flourish'd on thy beauteous plain; In vain sweet pleasure there was seen to move, And wore the smile of peace, the bloom of love; 130 For soon shall burst the unrelenting storm, Rend her soft robe, and crush her tender form: Peruvia! soon the fatal hour shall rise, The hour despair shall waste in tears and sighs; Fame shall record the horrors of thy fate, 135 And distant ages weep for ills so great.

Now o'er the deep chill night her mantle flung, Dim on the wave the moon's faint crescent hung; Peruvia's Genius sought the liquid plain, Sooth'd by the languid murmurs of the main; 140 When sudden clamour the illusion broke, Wild on the surface of the deep it spoke; A rising breeze expands her flowing veil, Aghast with fear, she spy'd a flying sail-- The lofty mast impends, the banner waves, 145 The ruffled surge th' incumbent vessel laves; With eager eye he views her destin'd foe Lead to her peaceful shores th' advent'rous prow; Trembling she knelt, with wild disorder'd air, And pour'd with frantic energy her pray'r-- 150 "Oh, ye avenging spirits of the deep! "Mount the blue lightning's wing, o'er ocean sweep; "Loud from your central caves the shell resound, "That summons death to your abyss profound; "Call the pale spectre from his dark abode, 155 "To print the billow, swell the black'ning flood, "Rush o'er the waves, the rough'ning deep deform, "Howl in the blast, and animate the storm-- "Relentless powers! for not one quiv'ring breeze "Has ruffled yet the surface of the seas-- 160 "Swift from your rocky steeps, ye condors[E] stray, "Wave your black plumes, and cleave th' aërial way; "Proud in terrific force, your wings expand, "Press the firm earth, and darken all the strand; "Bid the stern foe retire with wild affright, 170[F] "And shun the region veil'd in partial night. "Vain hope, devoted land! I read thy doom, "My sad prophetic soul can pierce the gloom; "I see, I see my lov'd, my favour'd clime, "Consum'd, and fading in its early prime. 175 "But not in vain the beauteous realm shall bleed, "Too late shall Europe's race deplore the deed. "Region abhorr'd! be gold the tempting bane, "The curse that desolates thy hostile plain; "May pleasure tinge with venom'd drops the bowl, 180 "And luxury unnerve the sick'ning soul."-- Ah, not in vain she pour'd th' impassion'd tear! Ah, not in vain she call'd the powers to hear! When borne from lost Peruvia's bleeding land, The guilty treasures beam'd on Europe's strand; 185 Each sweet affection fled the tainted shore, And virtue wander'd, to return no more.

[A] The pacos is a domestic animal of Peru. Its wool resembles the colour of dried roses. [B] The vicunnas are a species of wild pacos. [C] The lamas are employed as mules, in carrying burdens. [D] The people cheerfully assisted in reaping those fields, whose produce was given to old persons, past their labour. [E] The condor is an inhabitant of the Andes. Its wings, when expanded, are said to be eighteen feet wide. [F Transcriber's note: Misnumbered in original.]

PERU.

CANTO THE SECOND.

THE ARGUMENT.

Pizarro, _a Spanish Captain, lands with his forces--his meeting with_ Ataliba--_its unhappy consequences_--Zorai _dies_--Ataliba _imprisoned, and strangled_--Alzira's _despair, and madness._

PERU.

CANTO THE SECOND.

Flush'd with impatient hope, the martial band By stern Pizarro led, approach the land: No terrors arm the hostile brow, for guile Charms to betray, in Candour's open smile. Too artless for distrust, the monarch springs 5 To meet his latent foe on friendship's wings: On as he moves, with glitt'ring splendours crown'd, His feather'd chiefs the golden throne surround; The waving canopy its plume displays, Whose varied hues reflect the morning rays; 10 With native grace he hails the warrior train, Who stood majestic on Peruvia's plain, In all the savage pomp of armour drest, The radiant helmet, and the nodding crest. Yet themes of joy Pizarro's lips impart, 15 And charm with eloquence the simple heart; Unfolding to the monarch's wond'ring thought, All that inventive arts the rude have taught: And now he bids the purer spirit rise Above the circle of surrounding skies; 20 Presents the page that shed religion's light O'er the dark mist of intellectual night; While thrill'd with awe the monarch trembling stands, He dropp'd the hallow'd volume from his hands.