Chapter 6
[A]Sudden, while frantic zeal each breast inspires, 25 And shudd'ring demons fan the impious fires, The bloody signal waves, the banners play, The naked sabres flash their streaming ray; The martial trumpet's animating sound, And thund'ring cannon, rend the vault around; 30 While fierce in sanguine rage the sons of Spain Rush on Peru's unarm'd, devoted train; The fiends of slaughter urg'd their dire career, And virtue's guardian spirits dropp'd a tear.-- Mild Zorai fell, deploring human strife, 35 And clos'd with prayer his consecrated life. In vain Peruvia's chiefs undaunted stood, Shield their lov'd prince, and bathe his robes in blood; Touch'd with heroic ardor, rush around, And high of soul, receive each fatal wound: 40 Dragg'd from his throne, and hurry'd o'er the plain, The wretched monarch swells the captive train; With iron grasp, the frantic prince they bear, And bless the omen of his wild despair.
Deep in the gloomy dungeon's lone domain, 45 Lost Ataliba wore the galling chain; The earth's cold bed refus'd oblivious rest, While throb'd the pains of thousands at his breast; Alzira's desolating moan he hears, And with the monarch's, blends the lover's tears-- 50 Soon had Alzira felt affliction's dart Pierce her soft soul, and rend her bleeding heart; Its quick pulsations paus'd, and, chill'd with dread, A livid hue her fading cheek o'erspread; No tear she gave to love, she breath'd no sigh, 55 Her lips were mute, and clos'd her languid eye; Fainter, and slower heav'd her shiv'ring breast, And her calm'd passions seem'd in death to rest!-- At length reviv'd, mid rising heaps of slain She prest with trembling step, the crimson plain; 60 The dungeon's gloomy depth she fearless sought, For love, with scorn of danger arm'd her thought: The cell that holds her captive lord she gains, Her tears fall quiv'ring on a lover's chains! Too tender spirit, check the filial tear, 65 A sympathy more soft, a tie more dear Shall claim the drops that frantic passion sheds, When the rude storm its darkest pinion spreads. Lo! bursting the deep cell where mis'ry lay, The human vultures seize the dove-like prey! 70 In vain her treasur'd wealth Peruvia gave, This dearer treasure from their grasp to save: Alzira! lo, the ruthless murd'rers come, This moment seals thy Ataliba's doom. Ah, what avails the shriek that anguish pours! 75 The look, that mercy's lenient aid implores! Torn from thy clinging arms, thy throbbing breast, The fatal cord his agony supprest: In vain the livid corse she fondly clasps, And pours her sorrows o'er the form she grasps-- 80 The murd'rers now their struggling victim tear From the lost object of her keen despair: The swelling pang unable to sustain, Distraction throbb'd in every beating vein: Its sudden tumults seize her yielding soul, 85 And in her eye distemper'd glances roll-- "They come! (the mourner cried, with panting breath,) "To give the lost Alzira rest in death! "One moment more, ye bloody forms, bestow, "One moment more for ever cures my woe-- 90 "Lo where the purple evening sheds her light "On blest remains! oh hide them, pitying night! "Slow in the breeze I see the verdure wave "That shrouds with tufted grass, my lover's grave: "There, on its wand'ring wing in mildness blows 95 "The mournful gale, nor wakes his deep repose-- "And see, yon hoary form still lingers there! "Dishevell'd by rude winds his silver hair; "O'er his chill'd bosom falls the winter's rain, "I feel the big drops on my wither'd brain: 100 "Not for himself that tear his bosom steeps, "For his lost child it flows, for me he weeps! "No more the dagger's point shall pierce thy breast, "For calm and lovely is thy silent rest; "Yet still in dust these eyes shall see thee roll, 105 "Still the sad thought shall waste Alzira's soul-- "What bleeding phantom moves along the storm? "It is--it is my lover's well-known form! "Tho' the dim moon is veil'd, his robes of light "Tinge the dark clouds, and gild the mist of night: 110 "Approach! Alzira's breast no terrors move, "Her fears are all for ever lost in love! "Safe on the hanging cliff I now can rest, "And press its pointed pillow to my breast-- "He weeps! in heav'n he weeps! I feel his tear-- 115 "It chills my trembling heart, yet still 'tis dear-- "To him all joyless are the realms above, "That pale look speaks of pity, and of love! "My love ascends! he soars in azure light; "Stay tender spirit--cruel! stay thy flight-- 120 "Again descend in yonder rolling cloud, "And veil Alzira in thy misty shroud-- "He comes! my love has plac'd the dagger near, "And on its hallow'd point has dropp'd a tear"-- As roll'd her wand'ring glances wide around 125 She snatch'd a reeking sabre from the ground; Firmly her lifted hand the weapon press'd, And deep she plung'd it in her panting breast: "'Tis but a few short moments that divide "Alzira from her love!"--she said--and died. 130
[A] "Sudden, while frantic zeal, &c." PIZARRO, who during a long conference, had with difficulty restrained his soldiers, eager to seize the rich spoils of which they had now so near a view, immediately gave the signal of assault. At once the martial music struck up, the cannon and muskets began to fire, the horse sallied out fiercely to the charge, the infantry rushed on sword in hand. The Peruvians, astonished at the suddenness of an attack which they did not expect, and dismayed with the destructive effects of the fire-arms, fled with universal consternation on every side. PIZARRO, at the head of his chosen band, advanced directly towards the Inca; and though his Nobles crowded around him with officious zeal, and fell in numbers at his feet, while they vied one with another in sacrificing their own lives, that they might cover the sacred person of their Sovereign, the Spaniards soon penetrated to the royal seat; and PIZARRO seizing the Inca by the arm, dragged him to the ground, and carried him a prisoner to his quarters.--_Robertson's History of America_.
PERU.
CANTO THE THIRD.
THE ARGUMENT.
Pizarro _takes possession of Cuzco--the fanaticism of_ Valverde, _a Spanish priest--its dreadful effects--A Peruvian priest put to the torture--his daughter's distress--he is rescued by_ Las Casas, _an amiable Spanish ecclesiastic, and led to a place of safety, where he dies--his daughter's narration of her sufferings--her death._
PERU.
CANTO THE THIRD.
Now stern Pizarro seeks the distant plains, Where beauteous Cusco lifts her golden fanes: The meek Peruvians gaz'd in pale dismay, Nor barr'd the dark oppressor's sanguine way: And soon on Cusco, where the dawning light 5 Of glory shone, foretelling day more bright, Where the young arts had shed unfolding flowers, A scene of spreading desolation lowers; While buried deep in everlasting shade, Those lustres sicken, and those blossoms fade. 10 And yet, devoted land, not gold alone, Or wild ambition wak'd thy parting groan; For, lo! a fiercer fiend, with joy elate, Feasts on thy suff'rings, and impels thy fate. Fanatic fury rears her sullen shrine, 15 Where vultures prey, where venom'd adders twine; Her savage arm with purple torrents stains Thy rocking temples, and thy falling fanes; Her blazing torches flash the mounting fire, She grasps the sabre, and she lights the pyre; 20 Her voice is thunder, rending the still air, Her glance the livid light'ning's fatal glare; Her lips unhallow'd breathe their impious strain, And pure religion's sacred voice profane; Whose precepts, pity's mildest deeds approve, 25 Whose law is mercy, and whose soul is love. Fanatic fury wakes the rising storm-- She wears the stern Valverda's hideous form; His bosom never felt another's woes, No shriek of anguish breaks its dark repose. 30 The temple nods--an aged form appears-- He beats his breast--he rends his silver hairs-- Valverda drags him from the blest abode Where his meek spirit humbly sought its God: See, to his aid his child, soft Zilia, springs, 35 And steeps in tears the robe to which she clings, Till bursting from Peruvia's frighted throng, Two warlike youths impetuous rush'd along; One, grasp'd his twanging bow with furious air, While in his troubled eye sat fierce despair. 40 But all in vain his erring weapon flies, Pierc'd by a thousand wounds, on earth he lies. His drooping head the heart-struck Zilia rais'd, And on the youth in speechless anguish gaz'd; While he, who fondly shar'd his danger, flew, 45 And from his breast a reeking sabre drew. "Deep in my faithful bosom let me hide "The fatal steel, that would our souls divide," He quick exclaims--the dying warrior cries, "Ah, yet forbear!--by all the sacred ties, 50 "That bind our hearts, forbear"--In vain he spoke, Friendship with frantic zeal impels the stroke: "Thyself for ever lost, thou hop'st in vain, "The youth replied, my spirit to detain; "From thee, my soul, in childhood's earliest year, 55 "Caught the light pleasure, and the starting tear; "Thy friendship then my young affections blest, "The first pure passion of my infant breast; "That passion, which o'er life delight has shed, "By reason cherish'd, and by virtue fed: 60 "And still in death I feel its strong controul; "Its sacred impulse wings my fleeting soul, "That only lingers here till thou depart, "Whose image lives upon my fainting heart."-- In vain the gen'rous youth, with panting breath, 65 Pour'd these lost murmurs in the ear of death; He reads the fatal truth in _Zilia's_ eye, And gives to friendship his expiring sigh.-- But now with rage Valverda's glances roll, And mark the vengeance rankling in his soul: 70 He bends his wrinkled brow--his lips impart The brooding purpose of his venom'd heart; He bids the hoary priest in mutter'd strains, Abjure his faith, forsake his falling fanes, While yet the ling'ring pangs of torture wait, 75 While yet _Valverda's_ power suspends his fate. "Vain man, the victim cried, to hoary years "Know death is mild, and virtue feels no fears: "Cruel of spirit, come! let tortures prove "The Power I serv'd in life, in death I love."-- 80 He ceas'd--with rugged cords his limbs they bound, And drag the aged suff'rer on the ground; They grasp his feeble form, his tresses tear, His robe they rend, his shrivell'd bosom bare. Ah, see his uncomplaining soul sustain 85 The sting of insult, and the dart of pain; His stedfast spirit feels one pang alone; A child's despair awakes one suff'ring groan-- The mourner kneels to catch his parting breath, To sooth the agony of ling'ring death; 90 No moan she breath'd, no tear had power to flow, Still on her lip expir'd th' unutter'd woe: Yet ah, her livid cheek, her stedfast look, The desolated soul's deep anguish spoke-- Mild victim! close not yet thy languid eyes; 95 Pure spirit! claim not yet thy kindred skies; A pitying angel comes to stay thy flight, _Las Casas_[A] bids thee view returning light: Ah, let that sacred drop to virtue dear, Efface thy wrongs--receive his precious tear; 100 See his flush'd cheek with indignation glow, While from his lips the tones of pity flow. "Oh suff'ring Lord! he cried, whose streaming blood "Was pour'd for man--Earth drank the sacred flood-- "Whose mercy in the mortal pang forgave 105 "The murd'rous band, thy love alone could save; "Forgive--thy goodness bursts each narrow bound, "Which feeble thought, and human hope surround; "Forgive the guilty wretch, whose impious hand "From thy pure altar flings the flaming brand, 110 "In human blood that hallow'd altar steeps, "Libation dire! while groaning nature weeps-- "The limits of thy mercy dares to scan, "The object of thy love, his victim,--Man; "While yet I linger, lo, the suff'rer dies-- 115 "I see his frame convuls'd--I hear his sighs-- "Whoe'er controuls the purpose of my heart "First in this breast shall plunge his guilty dart:" With anxious step he flew, with eager hands He broke the fetters, burst the cruel bands. 120 As the fall'n angel heard with awful fear The cherub's grave rebuke, in grace severe, And fled, while horror plum'd his impious crest[B], The form of virtue, as she stood confest; So fierce Valverda sullen mov'd along, 125 Abash'd, and follow'd by the guilty throng. At length the hoary victim, freed from chains, Las Casas gently leads to safer plains; Soft Zilia's yielding soul the joy opprest, She bath'd with floods of tears her father's breast. 130 Las Casas now explores a secret cave Whose shaggy sides the languid billows lave; "There rest secure, he cried, the Christian God "Will hover near, will guard the lone abode." Oft to the gloomy cell his steps repair, 135 While night's chill breezes wave his silver'd hair; Oft in the tones of love, the words of peace, He bids the bitter tears of anguish cease; Bids drooping hope uplift her languid eyes, And points a dearer bliss beyond the skies. 140 Yet ah, in vain his pious cares would save The hoary suff'rer from the op'ning grave; For deep the pangs of torture pierc'd his frame, And sunk his wasted life's expiring flame; To his cold lip Las Casa's hand he prest, 145 He faintly clasp'd his Zilia to his breast; Then cried, "the God, whom now my vows adore, "My heart thro' life obey'd, unknowing more; "His mild forgiveness then my soul shall prove, "His mercy share--Las Casa's God, is Love!" 150 He spoke no more--his Zilia's frantic moan Was heard responsive to his dying groan. "Victim of impious zeal, Las Casas cries, "Accept departed shade, a Christian's sighs; "And thou, soft mourner, tender, drooping form, 155 "What power shall guard thee from the fearful storm? "Weep not for me, she cried, for Zilia's breast "Soon in the shelt'ring earth shall find its rest. "Hope not the victim of despair to save, "I ask but death--I only seek a grave-- 160 "Witness thou mangled form that earth retains, "Witness a murder'd lover's cold remains. "I liv'd my father's pangs to sooth, to share; "I bore to live, tho' life was all despair-- "In vain my lover, urg'd by fond desire 165 "To shield from torture, and from death my sire, "Flew to the fane where stern Valverda rag'd, "And fearless, with unequal force engag'd; "I saw him bleeding, dying press the ground, "I drew the poison from each fatal wound; 170 "I bath'd those wounds with tears--he pour'd a sigh-- "A drop hung trembling in his closing eye-- "Ah, still his mournful sign I shiv'ring hear, "In every pulse I feel his parting tear-- "I faint--an icy coldness chills each vein, 175 "No more these feeble limbs their load sustain: "Spirit of pity! catch my fleeting breath, "A moment stay--and close my eyes in death-- "_Las Casas_, thee, thy God in mercy gave "To sooth my pangs--to find the wretch a grave."-- 180 She ceas'd--her spirit fled to purer spheres-- _Las Casas_ bathes the pallid corse with tears-- Fly, minister of good! nor ling'ring shed Those fruitless sorrows o'er the unconscious dead; Ah fly--'tis innocence, 'tis virtue bleeds, 185 And heav'n will listen, when an angel pleads; I view the sanguine flood, the wasting flame, I hear a suff'ring world _Las Casas_ claim! 188
[A] LAS CASAS, &c. that amiable Ecclesiastic, who obtained by his humanity the title of Protector of the Indies.
[B] --On his crest Sat horror plum'd. _Par. Lost_, iv. 988.
PERU.
CANTO THE FOURTH.
THE ARGUMENT.
Almagro's _expedition to Chili--his troops suffer great hardships from cold, in crossing the Andes--they reach Chili--the Chilese make a brave resistance--the revolt of the Peruvians in Cuzco--they are led on by_ Manco-Capac, _the successor of_ Ataliba--_his parting with_ Cora, _his wife--the Peruvians regain half their city_--Almagro _leaves Chili--to avoid the Andes, he crosses a vast desert--his troops can find no water --the rest divide in two bands_--Alphonso _leads the second band, which soon reaches a fertile valley--the Spaniards observe the natives are employed in searching the streams for gold--they resolve to attack them._
PERU.
CANTO THE FOURTH.
Now the stern partner of Pizarro's toils, Almagro, lur'd by hope of golden spoils, To distant Chili's ever-verdant meads, Thro' paths untrod, a band of warriors leads; O'er the high Andes' frozen steeps they go, 5 And wander mid' eternal hills of snow: In vain the vivifying orb of day Darts on th' impervious ice his fervent ray; Cold, keen as chains the oceans of the Pole, Numbs the shrunk frame, and chills the vig'rous soul-- 10 At length they reach luxuriant _Chili's_ plain, Where ends the dreary bound of winter's reign; Where spring sheds odours thro' th' unvaried year, And bathes the flower of summer, with her tear.
When first the brave _Chilese_, with eager glance, 15 Behold the hostile sons of Spain advance; Heard the loud thunder of the cannon crash, And view'd the light'ning of the instant flash, The threat'ning sabre red with purple streams, The lance that quiver'd in the solar beams; 20 With pale surprise they saw the lowring storm, Where hung dark danger, in an unknown form: But soon their spirits, stung with gen'rous shame, Renounce each terror, and for vengeance flame; Pant high with sacred freedom's ardent glow, 25 And met intrepid, the superiour foe. Long unsubdu'd by stern Almagro's train, Their valiant tribes unequal fight maintain; Long victory hover'd doubtful o'er the field, And oft she forc'd Iberia's band to yield; 30 Oft tore from Spain's proud head her laurel bough, And bade it blossom on Peruvia's brow; When sudden tidings reach'd Almagro's ear That shook the warrior's soul with doubt and fear.
Of murder'd Ataliba's royal race 35 There yet remain'd a youth of blooming grace, Who pin'd, the captive of relentless Spain, And long in Cusco dragg'd her galling chain; _Capac_ his name, whose soul indignant bears The rankling fetters, and revenge prepares. 40 But since his daring spirit must forego The hope to rush upon the tyrant foe, Led by his parent orb, that gives the day, And fierce as darts the keen, meridian ray, He vows to bend unseen his hostile course, 45 Then on the victors rise with latent force, As sudden from its cloud the brooding storm, Bursts in the thunder's voice, the lightning's form-- For this, from stern Pizarro he obtains The boon, enlarg'd, to seek the neighb'ring plains, 50 For one bless'd day, and with his friends unite To crown with solemn pomp an ancient rite; Share the dear pleasures of the social hour, And mid' their fetters twine one festal flower. So spoke the Prince--far other thoughts possest, 55 Far other purpose animates his breast: For now Peruvia's nobles he commands To lead, with silent step, her martial bands Forth to the destin'd spot, prepar'd to dare The fiercest shock of dire, unequal war; 60 While every tender, human interest pleads, And urges the firm soul to lofty deeds. Now Capac hail'd th' eventful morning's light, Rose with its dawn, and panted for the fight; But first with fondness to his heart he prest 65 The tender Cora, partner of his breast; Who with her lord, had sought the dungeon's gloom, And wasted there in grief, her early bloom. "No more, he cried, no more my love shall feel "The mingled agonies I fly to heal; 70 "I go, but soon exulting shall return, "And bid my faithful Cora cease to mourn: "For oh, amid' each pang my bosom knows, "What wastes, what wounds it most, are Cora's woes. "Sweet was the love that crown'd our happier hours, 75 "And shed new fragrance o'er a path of flowers; "But sure divided sorrow more endears "The tie, that passion seals with mutual tears"-- He paus'd--fast-flowing drops bedew'd her eyes, While thus in mournful accents she replies: 80 "Still let me feel the pressure of thy chain, "Still share the fetters which my love detain; "Those piercing irons to my soul are dear, "Nor will their sharpness wound while thou art near. "Oh think not, when in thee alone I live, 85 "This breast can bear the pain thy dangers give, "Look on our helpless babe in mis'ry nurst-- "My child--my child, thy mother's heart will burst! "Methinks I see the raging battle rise, "And hear this harmless suff'rer's feeble cries; 90 "I view the blades that pour a sanguine flood, "And plunge their cruel edge in infant blood."-- She could no more; her falt'ring accents die, Yet her soul spoke expressive in her eye; Her lord beholds her grief, with tender pain, 95 And leads her breathless, to a shelt'ring fane. Now high in air his feather'd standard waves, And soon from shrouding woods, and hollow caves, A num'rous host along the plain appear, And hail their monarch with a gen'rous tear: 100 To Cusco's gate now rush th' increasing throngs, And such their ardor, rouz'd by sense of wrongs, That vainly would Pizarro's vet'ran force Arrest the torrent in its raging course; In vain his murd'ring bands terrific stood, 105 And plung'd their sabres in a sea of blood; Danger and death Peruvia's sons disdain, And half their captive city soon regain. With such pure joy the natives view their lord To the warm wishes of their souls restor'd, 110 As feels the tender child whom force had torn From his lov'd home, and bruis'd the flower of morn, When his fond searching eye again beholds His mother's form, when in her arms she folds The long lost child, who bathes with tears her face, And finds his safety in her dear embrace.--