Part 3

With passion’s anguish riven, loud she moaned— Could she forgive? Must this crime be condoned? A deed so foul by her own brother base— What act could e’er such deep-set blot efface? For brother-consort by a brother slain Must she herself with bloody vengeance stain?

To dark despair the Queen bereft gave way, Nor heeded anyone who tried to stay Her grief, until the Pontiff Cay came— Successor to the Sage who’d borne that name. Alone with Móo he groaned, “’Tis Aac I see! His life is ours to take; but this would be

With crime as infamous ourselves to brand— Let not two fratricides accurse the land! Our impulse to avenge must be suppressed; Nor may our soul by anger be possessed. Let Aac himself convict. Do thou, I pray, Request his presence here—he’ll quick obey.”

Aac’s handsome face wore mask of grief until The High Priest sternly thus expressed his will: “Our dauntless Coh is slain by one unknown; The coward’s blood for this crime should atone. The Maya nation mourns—be thine the task To see the culprit found—’tis all we ask.”

Aac’s features changed, with ardor he exclaimed— “Not so! no blameless man shall be defamed For what my passion wrought—all mine the guilt! No clemency beg I—do as thou wilt.”

There spake Aac’s better self; just thought inbred Outbreathed. With pity touched, Móo’s loathing fled. Nor could a child of Can know aught of fear; Aac boldly stood, the Pontiff’s word to hear.

“Thou shalt live on; hast made thyself accurst! Not thus will we—let fools for vengeance thirst. From Chicħen, go! thy face we would not see. An edict from our hand shall safeguard thee; For, mark this well, the people soon must know Prince Aac alone hath dared to deal the blow.

I see that war upon us thou wilt bring, And finally, thyself proclaim as king. Afflicted Móo will feel thy cruel ire; Thus wilt thou weave for thee a fate most dire. Myself, thy elder brother, thou’lt degrade; Cans’ dynasty shall fall, by thee betrayed.”

Thus forth from royal city Aac was sent, Empowered on native soil where’er he went, To live in princely state, with means endowed, While unto law and Sovereign’s will he bowed.

IV.

Sun-Scorched, for tears athirst was Chicħen’s square; The funeral bed ’mid wailing crowds rose there. Here many noble structures had a place, With carvings red and gold upon their face. The lofty stronghold in their midst, appeared Like pyramid of human beings reared; From base to summit on each side were seen Brave men who for their chief felt sorrow keen. On temple’s mound crowds flocked to view the square, And hum of million voices filled the air. Each road that led within the city wall Was packed with mourning populace; and all Betrayed the grief they felt. The flowers fair In well-kept beds, the burden seemed to share Of nation’s woe; all drooped their dainty heads, Entreating those sweet tears that heaven sheds.

With Priestess Nicté, Móo was near the pyre, To light the cedar logs with sacred fire. Piled high were these, with odorous plants between; And many lovely garlands too were seen. The priests in flowing robes were stationed round: By solemn rite the rank of each was bound. First those in yellow clad, the sun-god’s sheen; Then soothing wisdom-ray, fair nature’s green; The next in line of blue robes made display, Grief sanctified—the mourners sad array, Beyond stood many others all in white; And last, full armed as ready for the fight, The orators of war, in gowns of red.— Their ardent words to victory oft had led. Long lance they bore, as on the battle field Where glowed their eloquence—nor would one yield, Except to Yum Cimil, but onward pressed And dauntless to the last urged on the rest. These now restrained the crowd that thronged the ground: In that vast square no tearless eye was found.

Móo’s sister Nicté, priestess of the Light, Sustained the hapless Queen thro’ funeral rite. Coh’s heart, concealed within a close shut urn, Was near the corpse, to char while that should burn. That flames might higher leap and quick consume, Fine scented oils, the hot air to perfume, By priestly hand were lavishly out-poured Upon the shroud of him whom all deplored.

Around the pyre, with measured step and slow, His comrades, arms reversed, must three times go Unto the left, anear the funeral bed, That evil spirits might not reach the dead. Thrice round they went, their object to attain, All chanting as they marched, a solemn strain.

At signal given by trumpets’ ringing sound, Hushed was the wailing of the crowd around. Móo grasped the torch that would, from body dead, Release the soul yet linked to funeral bed. Alone she set ablaze the corners four— A sacred right none could dispute, nay more!— Her duty ’twas as true and loving wife, To light the wood, speeding the soul to life Or dreamless sleep, the Will Supreme to bide. The multitude, when Móo the torch applied, Upon their knees, their brows to earth, were bowed Until the priests, “Arise! All’s well!” cried loud.

The priests and mourners now, each one in place, Around the pyre, with sad and measured pace, Unto the right, three times the way must tread; To honor thus the memory of their dead. And when the hero’s form was wrapped in fire, Two mated doves, pure white, loosed near the pyre, Up soared—of liberated soul the sign, From prison freed, no fetter to confine; Yet more, fair symbols of creative force, Of life and death and all that is, the Source.

The grace divine was fervently implored While hissed the leaping flame and loudly roared. Transparent burned the wood with ruddy glare; Melodious voices rose o’er trumpet blare:

Thro’ earth-life our footsteps lead, Guide us into peace eternal, Till from all desire we’re freed, And perceive Thy Light Supernal.

Down sank the pile; priests chanting nearer drew And on expiring flames sweet incense threw.

Speed thee now to realm of bliss, Cast aside the thought of strife, Tho’ each eye thy face will miss And we mourn thee all our life!

Intoned the priests and slow their bodies swayed, The dying embers fanned, and singing stayed While these by murm’ring winds were borne away— List where they might, they would life’s law obey.

Afar they floated on the zephyr’s wing: No triumph now would Coh to Mayas bring. Disconsolate, the Queen in anguish cried: “Would that I had with my beloved died! Why tarry here? My soul entreats release! I too will sleep on Death’s soft couch of peace.” From thought so weak, by Nicté she was freed And tottering reason saved from foolish deed.

Then came the date of Mu, the thirteenth day, When hearts of noble men were laid away. Where sacred fire had liberated Coh, The people once again were lost in woe.

Beneath the earth, shut close in virgin urn, Wherein it safe would bide the soul’s return, The heart of hero slain was put to rest By those who in its love were more than blest. Before the marble lid closed o’er the urn, Upon that heart for which she’d ever yearn The widowed Queen with loving homage laid Her Talisman, at Cay’s order made; By his strong will invested for her sake With qualities she ever might partake.

Thus from the day this gift became her own, When she’d been warned its loss might her dethrone, The gem had nestled close about her heart. But now, most eager she with this to part; For Cay had affirmed its force could bind Two souls thro’ time, if she the way would find. Coh gone, could Móo rejoice on sovereign throne? Ah no! far rather than a Queen alone, A fugitive she’d be in boundless space, Assured she would at last behold _his_ face.

When talisman touched heart, a great calm fell O’er Móo; to think they would together dwell Once more, they two, within her mind distilled A solace sweet that all her being filled. Should earth recall them, as in time it must, Each would the other seek in perfect trust; From spheres of bliss, if parted, they would strive To meet again and keep love’s pain alive.

Close by the urn a counterpart of Coh Was set; as long as that endured below, Desiring thus, he could to earth return If e’er his soul for mortal life should yearn. Walled close around, cut from a solid block, That statue could the fleeting ages mock. Secure from tempest and from mortal eyes, This form Coh’s will alone might bid arise. The pose it had been given showed regal state, The boundary lines of Maya Empire great; Where Cans, for justice famed, long ruled; rich land Of men renowned for actions brave and grand.

Now on the spot a monument was reared, On four sides marble steps; and there appeared The emblems royal carved in fine white stone; A leopard crowning all, Coh’s name made known.

The tomb complete, Móo likewise built a shrine In honor of the Prince now hailed divine. Of grand proportions stood that edifice; No charm that art could lend would one there miss. Here faithful hearts might manes sometimes greet, And on the altar lay an offering meet. On walls within the artist toiled amain, Portraying there the life of chieftain slain. On outer wall was graved a loving thought— Her Consort’s mem’ry thus the Queen besought: “Cay witness beareth—earnestly doth Móo Hereby invoke her warrior-prince, great Coh!”

V.

And yet again Aac dared his cause to plead, His hand out reached that Móo might love concede. Mad! mad! he surely was—Can one plant deep The seed of hate, and then hope love to reap?

Events that Cay had foretold drew near; For self-willed Aac cast o’er the land dark fear. Enraged, a pretext he failed not to seek For war; and soon he caused the soil to reek With blood of men; for him they bravely fought, And led by him dire devastation wrought. When nearly all the land bowed ’neath his sway, Once more he tried with her to have his way; By messenger himself would thus demean: “To Móo, Aac yields, if she will be his queen.”

Could mortal strive to rouse with greater zeal Fierce hate and pity kill? Her fall, his weal, He’d thus make one. His queen! O hateful thought! ’Twas plain the war that he ungrateful sought, Had prompted been by fixed desire to reign, And with the throne its Queen too he’d obtain. With just wrath filled Móo scorned the victor’s plea— Lose all she rather would, her palace flee.

Too soon indeed was this to come about, Cay’s prophecy no longer one could doubt; For Aac without delay acquired new force, Nor cared who fell beneath his reckless course. At last exulted he in Móo’s defeat, And deeds were done that time could ne’er delete. The noble Pontiff was at once abased By Aac, who deeply thus himself disgraced.

When Móo’s defenders lay around her slain, Her freedom she no longer could retain; Then captive she was led to meet her fate. Within Aac’s breast now battled love and hate. Yet dared he not that heinous sin commit, Compel what woman’s heart would not permit. He hoped she soon would plead to be set free, And since all else was lost for her could she Withstand his ever strong desire? Relent She must—to be his consort now consent.

Móo looked for death; she would surrender life, Escaping thus all further pain and strife. But jailers were by faithful friends embroiled; At heavy cost Prince Aac’s designs they foiled. Success was theirs, and guarding her with care, They gained the coast, great oceans storms to dare.

“Dear native land, where tender mem’ries cling, No other spot such happy years can bring!” Thus to himself each, silent, said. The past Knew no appeal; the lot of all was cast; The future might, perchance, hold something yet. And when the sun arose, the sails were set, That all might find on distant, foreign shore, New homes, where peace would bless their days once more. Devoted subjects they, renouncing all To rescue captive Queen, whose complete fall From sovereign power forbade a hope of gain; Their only wish to save her further pain. Thus they with her now fled from Aac’s mad hate, Untouched by fear of what might them await.

Afar the voyagers went from place to place, And stayed at length where men of Maya race— Bold navigators they for centuries back— Had made a home, and nothing there could lack.

VI.

Thus Aac remained with power complete at last; But all his triumph was by gloom o’ercast; He writhed in torture when, each night, he thought How great the cost at which his throne was bought. Worse yet, he’d lost the stake for which he played— To fail in winning Móo, all else outweighed. Upon his soul wrath preyed till spent; and now Dark melancholy hovered o’er his brow. Unsatisfied, unresting, ne’er at ease, Seek where he might, nothing in life could please. Alone he ruled, none dared his word gainsay; But this could not his discontent allay.

’Twas not remorse that ever brought him pain, But fierce regret that he had failed to gain That chief desire of his unyielding will: This bitter thought his mind would ever fill. Defied and baffled in his hour of might, He hated all who had contrived Móo’s flight. Each one suspected quickly met dark fate; But cruel deeds could not Aac’s ire abate. By passion swayed like tree in tempest blast, All wish for good and right aside he cast. One satisfaction yet remained to him— The flight of time should not his victory dim; His palace walls should bear upon their face, In carvings deep that time would ne’er erase, His triumph over all who strove in vain To hold him back from what he would attain. And thus ’twas writ above his palace door, Above the polished, crimson-painted floor.

Now came the days when Mayas knew no peace ’Neath Aac’s harsh rule, and war that did not cease. With sacred rite they strove to know the will Of Can the Good; response came not, yet still They plead; by holy fire would feign invoke Some aid; and mystic power at last awoke To seer’s gaze the mighty Can of old, Whose visage stern and sad his sorrow told. No hope or promise in that face was read; The country still would be by tyrant bled.

Again the seers besought, and Coh appeared— Brave prince who had to all himself endeared— Averted was his gaze, his hands upraised, Aggrieved he seemed to be and sore amazed; But not a word expressed; no hope gave he That from the tyrant Aac they might be free.

There came a final day of vengeance dire, When subjects turned upon their haughty Sire. E’en to this time may yet be seen the place Where he was killed by one of Maya race; Where last he took his stand upon that height Within his palace grounds, there forced to fight In self-defence or yield to prisoner’s lot; Restraint his outraged subjects planned. ’T was not Their wish, e’en now, to slay the wilful man Whose being throbbed with blood of honored Can.

Aac towered there amid his fallen men, Defiant, raging, livid, and ’twas then That one named Pacab flung his arms aside, Approached the Prince, and as he neared him cried— “Now yield thyself; we would not do thee wrong; Full well we know all rights to thee belong. Thy safety we desire and not thy life, Tho’ thou hast filled our land with grief and strife.”

With one fell blow Aac struck the speaker dead, Then shook the dripping axe above his head. But scarce the deed was done when from the crowd An elder man leaped forth and wailed aloud— “My son! my son! avenged thou now shalt be; Thy life destroyed, no Prince is there for me!”

This said, he sprang upon the stalwart Aac Like maddened brute and roared—“Thy soul is black! Defend thy life; strike swift or breathe thy last!” While yet he spake his blows fell thick and fast; Then Aac, in flaming wrath, stabbed deep his foe; Their blood in mingling stream was quick to flow. ’Twas fierce and brief, the Prince was first to fall, But wounded unto death, beyond recall, Was he who thus avenged his country’s woes And brought the reign of Aac to tragic close.

VII.

Where flows the river Nile, the Queen found rest; There once again her days with peace were blest. Upon that soil where welcome frank was found, Did Móo a giant Sphinx from out the ground Cause to arise, and thus Coh’s fame renew? Did she immortalize her consort true?

As child of Can the natives called her Queen; Their ancestors Cans’ subjects all had been. Móo reigned again, and many a year she dwelt In Chem, the Land of Boats. There too she felt Her call to liberty, and passed away, Rejoiced at last the summons to obey.

“Now cometh bliss! the flesh doth loose its hold; Death’s tender kiss will leave it still and cold. Upon my weary brow the veil of Night Descends; my soul leaps forth to joyous flight! O touch my heart with thy all-healing balm Oblivion sweet! now lull me in thy calm,” Móo yearned for this. Then fell upon her ear A voice—“Blessèd are they who know not fear! The Heart of Heaven e’er radiates love’s light, And soul released finds nothing to affright Save visions false of terror, bred by creeds, And deep remorse that gnaws at evil deeds.”

Soul stirred, awoke and saw! Herself Móo found. Was this the law, tho’ not to body bound, To still live on? What time in nothingness Had fled? Since she besought unconsciousness Had ages sped? And now appeared her guide, Cay, whom long she mourned when he had died. His clear calm eyes again she searched amazed; Their power thrilled and drew her as she gazed.

Then murmured she—“If this be happy dream Let me dream on.” O Light! thy wondrous beam Throughout creation glows, now and for aye, If Will Omnipotent ordaineth day. Thy rays are harmonies, celestial Light! Because thou art, there is no endless night. Earth’s weary children long for deep repose; But from the glorious light all music flows. As night and day forever alternate, In darkest silence life doth germinate.

No mortal can conceive th’ entrancing sounds That greet the spirit freed from terrene bounds. Could love’s effulgence from supernal spheres But reach the mortal eye bedimmed with tears, A solace sweet as rain on sun-parched leaf Would fall on those bereft and bowed with grief. No more would Death a bitter foe appear; Kind Hope and Faith would banish Doubt and Fear.

To Móo awaked another rapture flowed— Coh’s eyes with love unquenched before her’s glowed. O Love! thou art the power of life, the force That lifts the soul; Divinity thy source. Ignoble things thy presence doth redeem, Sweet breath of God! most holy and supreme! Eternal thou, throughout the boundless space; Thy purity no act can e’er abase. Deep passion broods pent up, in matter dark; Death comes, and there upon his gliding bark Reality appears; soul finds its own— Pure Love released, unmasked, stands forth alone.

By man has time been made the gauge of Earth. What cares the soul in realm of spirit birth How oft around spin globes above, below? Of happiness do beings weary grow? Must they return—again to feel the throes Of matter’s strife—from passionless repose?

SEQUEL.

AGES LATER.

I.

While mortals slept and stars lit up its bed, Ere Phoebus smiled the infant’s soul had fled.

Kissed by the god of day, a blue-eyed boy Sprang from his couch, with eager love and joy. White twinkling feet then ran across the floor To Natalie, as many a morn before. Death’s mystery to him was yet untaught; The lifeless babe no dread to his mind brought; To mother’s arms he bore the drooping form— “Poor baby cold! make pretty sister warm.”

The lustrums sped. A girl of lightsome heart Was told, “He comes! with him thou must depart.” To find her in the East, he sailed from West, Responsive to the power of soul’s request. Resistless forces bade her go fulfill The part that she, by her own human will Had planned upon a day, when swayed by love She would her consort find, on earth, above, Wherever might he dwell there too would she: Attachments deep can bind like stern decree.

To learn the past, to Maya-land both turned, But no faint ray of mem’ry in them burned. Altho’ he murmured in a certain place— “Familiar ’tis, there’s something I would trace.”

As Maya chief reborn, men of the soil Hailed him, and led by him would patient toil In forest depths, ’mid desert mansions old And temples drear—their history to unfold.

Within a white stone urn in ancient tomb, Charred heart and talisman lay in the gloom. To her he gave the gem,—“Now take thine own, I pray; henceforth it must be thine alone.”

In dancing flame the mortal dust from urn Was thrown. “A form ascends from what doth burn!” The natives loud exclaimed, “A princely shade That into nothingness doth quickly fade.”

When evening came, and all from work reposed, They told the white man why the things inclosed Were found by him: “Thou art returned once more From long enchanted sleep; wast here before.” To this, both earnestly responded—“Nay,” But nothing changed; the men thought their own way.

II.

Fantastic thought cut loose from reason cool Are dreams wherein the wisest play the fool. Can dreams be memories? Are some portents? Who knows? His ignorance man still laments.

The woman dreamed among the Ruins gray, Where moon shines in at night and sun by day On crumbling floors where powdered bones thick lie And glistening serpents glide with gleaming eye.

Now as she seemed to roam in palace drear, A man in rich and strange attire drew near, Bemoaning thus: “May every wind and leaf Re-echo now my wail of hopeless grief! In mercy shine upon my endless woe, Great Sun! from whom all life and light outflow.

Here crouches Aac, alone from age to age— Absorb me now, my wretchedness assuage! Remorse, to thee I said, ‘Return no more’— Thou shalt not stay to goad me as before! O Light Eternal! bid this mem’ry die While penitent upon the ground I lie. Tho’ long the years of anguish I have spent, The worm gnaws on as if ’twould ne’er relent.” He prayed and wept. Response came from above— A woman’s voice replied with pitying love.

Up started he—“Hush! hush! thou knowest not, But I know who thou art. O bitter lot! To jealous frenzy I became a slave And vilely slew my brother true and brave, Thus casting o’er my sister’s life a blight. Still mad with rage and lost to sense of right, I crushed my elder brother in my wrath; Tho’ Pontiff he, I swept him from my path.”

“My vicious mood led many where they fell; I lied to them that they might serve me well. No fiery couch was lit for heroes slain; Now I could crawl o’er moldering bones, and fain Would lick their dust—so low my haughty head— I, lord of all! for whom their blood was shed. A tyrant harsh, imbittered I became; Nor could my soul’s rebuke awaken shame.

O Mother! drop thy tears; accurst for aye Am I! the drouth of this, my land, allay. Send down thy light, Great Sun!” he cried aloud, “Let me forget! with mortal form endowed.”