 | The vision of Cortes, Cain, and other poems |  |
III.
He had been toiling thro' the day—And, tho' victory crown'd him,
Yet, once its palm was torn away,
As the fight thicken'd round him—
Onward, by Guatimozin
This brave Indian, appears in all the characteristics of a hero of Romance, fully worthy of the middle ages. After warring against Cortes, with all the undeviating firmness, joined to the experience of the veteran, we find him, at all times calm, dignified and manly; neither too much exhilarated when crowned with conquest, nor prostrated by the reverses of defeat. The following passage from Robertson, may show this:—“When conducted to Cortes, he appeared, neither with the sullen fierceness of a barbarian, nor with the dejection of a suppliant. “I have done,” said he, “what became a monarch. I have defended my people to the last extremity. Nothing now remains but to die. Take this dagger,” laying his hand on one which Cortes wore, “plant it in my breast, and put an end to a life which can no longer be of use.” Vol. ii. p. 48, 49.
Like gath'ring clouds at even,
The children of the bright sun
The sun has been usually the first object of worship among all barbarous nations, as the supposed, and only visible source of life, light, heat, &c.—but the Mexicans and Peruvians went still farther and claimed to be immediately descended from it. Their altars, dedicated to its worship, were never honored with any thing less worthy than human beings.
To win the wealth of Heaven!
At once, the splendors of thy name,
Brave Cortes, darken'd as they came;
One moment, sunk thy warriors back,
Before the torrent's thundering track;
One moment did thine eagle bend
His sunward gaze, and downward tend;
And thou—thy warrior steed o'erthrown,
A victim, 'mid the crowd alone,
Thy soldiers lost, and thine own blood,
Forth streaming, in impetuous flood,
Not even the chance remains to flee—
But that is not a thought for thee.
Amidst vicissitudes and reverses that would have crushed any humbler spirit, the energies of Cortes, never for a single moment forsook him. Within an enemy's walls, surrounded by men of his own nation, jealous of his power, and pertually thwarting him by machinations and treasons—he rose superior to circumstances, and seemed invigorated by every overthrow.
| The vision of Cortes, Cain, and other poems | |