 | The vision of Cortes, Cain, and other poems |  |
II.
The chieftain slumber'd in his tent,Thro' the deep midnight hour,
Enfeebled, for his strength was spent
In deeds of warlike power—
The leader of the Spanish might,
Where sleep had stilly bound him,
Lay, ready arm'd for sudden fight,
But with no guard around him.
'Twas he, that dared 'gainst free-born foe,
To win the wealth of Mexico!
On Chalco's height, Cholula's wall,
Ordain'd not by his foe to fall,
The brave barbarian paused, to scan
The features of the giant man;
And, in his deeds of strength, his blade,
The lion-heart, that ne'er afraid,
Leap'd onward, and where'er he flew,
Bore unresisting Fate, to do
The savage purpose of a breast,
Where human feelings lay, represt,
Believed, as frighted back, he ran,
Some demon fill'd the form of man.
| The vision of Cortes, Cain, and other poems | |