Classic Poem

Meantime from Aztlan, on their enterprise,
Shedder of Blood and Tiger of the War,
Ocellopan and Tlalala set forth.
With chosen followers, through the silent night,
Silent they travell'd on. After a way
Circuitous and far through lonely tracks,
They reach'd the mountains, and amid the shade
Of thickets covering the uncultured slope,
Their patient ambush placed. The chiefs alone
Held on, till, winding in ascent, they reach'd
The heights which o'er the Briton's mountain hold
Impended; there they stood, and by the moon,
Who yet, with undiminished lustre, hung
High in the dark blue firmament, from thence
Explored the steep descent. Precipitous
The rock beneath them lay, a sudden cliff,
Bare and unbroken; in its midway holes,
Where never hand could reach, nor eye intrude,
The eagle built her eyrie. Farther on,
Its interrupted crags and ancient woods
Offered a difficult way. From crag to crag,
By rocky shelf, by trunk, or root, or bough,
A painful toil and perilous, they past;
And now, stretch'd out amid the matted shrubs,
Which, at the entrance of the valley, clothed
The rugged bank, they crouch'd.
By this the stars
Grew dim; the glow-worm hath put out her lamp;
The owls have ceased their night-song. On the top
Of yon magnolia the loud turkey's voice
Is heralding the dawn; from tree to tree
Extends the wakening watch-note, far and wide,
Till the whole woodlands echo with the cry.
Now breaks the morning; but as yet no foot
Hath mark'd the dews, nor sound of man is heard.
Then first Ocellopan beheld, where, near,
Beneath the shelter of a half-roof'd hut,
A sleeping stranger lay. He pointed him
To Tlalala. The Tiger look'd around:
None else was nigh. — Shall I descend, he said,
And strike him? Here is none to see the deed.
We offered to the Gods our mingled blood
Last night; and now, I deem it, they present
An offering which shall more propitiate them,
And omen sure success. I will go down
And kill!
He said, and, gliding like a snake,
Where Caradoc lay sleeping, made his way.
Sweetly slept he, and pleasant were his dreams
Of Britain, and the blue-eyed maid he loved.
The Azteca stood over him; he knew
His victim, and the power of vengeance gave
Malignant joy. Once hast thou 'scaped my arm:
But what shall save thee now? the Tiger thought,
Exulting; and he raised his spear to strike.
That instant, o'er the Briton's unseen harp
The gale of morning past, and swept its strings
Into so sweet a harmony, that sure
It seem'd no earthly tone. The savage man
Suspends his stroke; he looks astonish'd round:
No human hand is near: — and hark! again
The airial music swells and dies away.
Then first the heart of Tlalala felt fear:
He thought that some protecting spirit watch'd
Beside the Stranger, and, abash'd, withdrew.

A God protects him! to Ocellopan,
Whispering, he said. Didst thou not hear the sound
Which enter'd into me, and fix'd my arm
Powerless above him?
Was it not a voice
From thine own Gods to strengthen thee, replied
His sterner comrade, and make evident
Their pleasure in the deed?
Nay! Tlalala
Rejoin'd; they speak in darkness and in storms.
The thunder is their voice, that peals through heaven,
Or, rolling underneath us, makes earth rock
In tempest, and destroys the sons of men.
It was no sound of theirs, Ocellopan!
No voice to hearten, — for I felt it pass
Unmanning every limb; yea, it relax'd
The sinews of my soul. Shedder of Blood,
I cannot lift my hand against the man.
Go, if thy heart be stronger!
But meantime.
Young Caradoc arose, of his escape
Unconscious; and by this the stirring sounds
Of day began, increasing now, as all
Now to their toil betake them. Some go fell
The stately tree; some from the trunk low-laid
Hew the huge boughs; here round the fire they char
The stake-points; here they level with a line
The ground-plot, and infix the ready piles,
Or, interknitting them with osiers, weave
The wicker wall; others along the lake,
From its shoal waters, gather reeds and canes, —
Light roofing, suited to the genial sky.
The woodman's measured stroke, the regular saw,
The wain slow-creaking, and the voice of man
Answering his fellow, or in single toil,
Cheering his labor with a cheerful song,
Strange concert made to those fierce Aztecas,
Who, beast-like, in their silent lurking-place
Couch'd close and still, observant for their prey.

All overseeing, and directing all,
From place to place moved Madoc, and beheld
The dwellings rise. Young Hoel at his side
Ran on, best pleased when at his Uncle's side
Courting indulgent love. And now they came
Beside the half-roof'd hut of Caradoc;
Of all the mountain-dwellings that the last.
The little boy, in boyish wantonness,
Would quit his Uncle's hold, and haste away,
With childhood's frolic speed, then laugh aloud,
To tempt pursuit; now running to the huts,
Now toward the entrance of the valley straits.
But wheresoe'er he turned, Ocellopan,
With hunter's eye, pursued his heedless course,
In breath-suspending vigilance. Ah me!
The little wretch toward his lurking-place
Draws near, and calls on Madoc; and the Prince
Thinks of no danger nigh, and follows not
The childish lure! nearer the covert now
Young Hoel runs, and stops, and calls again;
Then like a lion, from his couching-place,
Ocellopan leap'd forth, and seized his prey.

Loud shriek'd the affrighted child, as in his arms
The savage grasp'd him; startled at the cry,
Madoc beheld him hastening through the pass.
Quick as instinctive love can urge his feet
He follows, and he now almost hath reach'd
The encumber'd ravisher, and hope inspires
New speed, — yet nearer now, and nearer still,
And lo! the child holds out his little arms!
That instant, as the Prince almost had laid
His hand upon the boy, young Tlalala
Leap'd on his neck, and soon, though Madoc's strength,
With frantic fury, shook him from his hold,
Far down the steep Ocellopan had fled.
Ah! what avails it now, that they, by whom
Madoc was standing to survey their toil,
Have miss'd their Chief, and spread the quick alarm?
What now avails it, that, with distant aid,
His gallant men come down? Regarding nought
But Hoel, but the wretched Llaian's grief,
He rushes on; and ever as he draws
Near to the child, the Tiger Tlalala
Impedes his way; and now they reach the place
Of ambush, and the ambush'd band arise,
And Madoc is their prisoner.
Caradoc,
In vain thou leadest on the late pursuit!
In vain, Cadwallon, hath thy love alarm'd
Caught the first sound of evil! They pour our
Tumultuous from the vale, a half-arm'd troop
Each with such weapons as his hasty hands
Can seize, they rush to battle. Gallant men,
Your valor boots not! It avails not now,
With such fierce onset that ye charge the foe,
And drive with such full force the weapon home!
They, while ye slaughter them, impede pursuit
And far away, meantime, their comrades bear
The captive Prince. In vain his noble heart
Swells now with wild and suffocating rage;
In vain he struggles: — they have bound his lurks
With the tough osier, and his struggles now
But bind more close and cuttingly the band
They hasten on; and while they bear the prize,
Leaving their ill-doomed fellows in the fight
To check pursuit, foremost afar of all,
With unabating strength, by joy inspired,
Ocellopan to Aztlan bears the child.