University of Virginia Library

SCENE II.

A different and wilder Part of the Mountains.
HOUACO
alone.
Ye angry Gods, by my forefathers worshipp'd,
How terrible ye crowd upon my soul!
What spoke your thunders, rolling o'er my head,
Through the black vault of night? Your fiery bolt
Flashing on the lithe rattlesnake that lay
Coil'd at my feet?—They spoke thy will, Illapa,
Demanding thus thy victim at my hands,
And imaging, in the insidious serpent,
The Spaniard who has stung me to the soul.
My father wrong'd thee, vengeful Deity!
Of blood, thy due; and I, more guilty still,
Won by Alphonso's blandishments, forgot
The hate, the deep unconquerable hate,
I vow'd to fell Pedrarias' race—Nay, more,
Gave him the friendship of an honest heart,
And lent my easy ear to his smooth words,
While joy and hope won softly on my soul:
Joy—the attendant of the thoughtless child,
And hope—that waits on fools!

[Thelasco and a troop of Indians are seen approaching among the rocks.
THELASCO.
All powerful Heaven!
Or does a wreathing vapour mock my sight,
Or art thou from the land of spirits come
To warn us of impending ill?—Oh stay!
Whate'er thou be, thou seem'st Capana's son,
And thus my heart acknowledges the semblance.

[Bowing down before him.
HOUACO
(starting from his reverie).
Friend of my youth! my father's friend! Thelasco!
[Embraces him.
How fares it with the good Cacique, Capana?

THELASCO.
He lives! and in his son restored, is happy.
Come, let me lead thee to him.

HOUACO.
Stay, Thelasco!
Oh stay! I am not yet prepared; thou see'st
How the firm temper of my soul is shaken!
Think not the ills our cruel foes inflicted
E'er moved me thus!—'Tis here, Thelasco, here
[Beating his breast.
It rankles e'en to madness.—Yesterday—
Oh! yesterday!—

THELASCO.
Forget the pass'd day's ill:
Think of to-day! th'auspicious day that brings thee,
After two years of sorrow for thy loss,
To share our happiness, thy father's gift!

HOUACO
(not attending to him).
Virtues fantastical!—By Christians dream'd!
Ye are vain names! flowers that wreathe the dagger
They plunge into our breasts!
(To Thelasco, eagerly and wildly).
Valour in war,
And fortitude that tortures cannot shake—
Say—are not these the virtues of the Indian?
Revenge, if wrong'd, his duty and his solace?
Is it not so, Thelasco?

THELASCO
(astonished).
Surely, so!
But wherefore hang dark thoughts upon thy mind
When all is joy? Each social bliss awaits thee;
A people's welcome—friendship—love!

HOUACO
(with a bitter laugh).
Ha! ha!
[Then falling into his former melancholy.
I have no friend, Thelasco!—Idle love
Is for the fortunate!

THELASCO.
As thou shalt be!

HOUACO
(not attending to him).
Had I nor eyes, nor ears? Where were my senses?
Did he not falter? did he not turn pale,
Oft as I named the maid? And when I told
How to my arms, when yet a sportive child,
Her dying father gave her, he exclaim'd,
“Oh! tie indissoluble! sacred!” clasping
His trembling hands; then, starting, blush'd, and smiled;
And on the sudden all was calm, serene,
As smooth hypocrisy's own brow!—Fool! fool!

[Striking his forehead, and relapsing into his thoughtful posture.
THELASCO
(alarmed, to the Indians).
My friends, the heavy ills our chief has known
Prey on his wounded spirit: wild disorder
Oft waits on thought intense in noble minds.
Bear the glad tidings that Houaco lives
To all around. Summon our people straight
In joyous bands, with festive song and dance,
To welcome home Capana's warlike son.
(To Houaco).
[The Indians go.
In yon deep-bosom'd glen, 'mong beetling rocks,
Dwell the surviving few of the young band
That follow'd thee in thy first days to battle.
There, sorrowing for thy loss, in gloomy caves
They hang their idle hatchets, till they hear
Thy voice, Houaco! thy awakening voice!
Rousing them from their sad inglorious ease,
To lead them forth.

HOUACO.
Ha! there again thou strikest!
My youthful band of friends!—Oh, hide me from them!
They still are free, and on their native mountains
Share with the savage of the wilds his prey;
They ne'er felt chains!—Oh, no! Thelasco, no!
'Tis not the slave must lead the freeman forth!

Troops of Indians advance from among the rocks, with festive garlands, &c.
CHORUS OF NATIVES.
Is the patriot chief restored?
He whom India's sons deplored,
He who sank on slaughter's field,
Where new forms of death appal;
He who bade us bleed and fall,
Nobly fall—but never yield!

CHOSEN BAND OF WARRIORS.
A people's vow
Has won our leader from the tomb!
His sadden'd brow,
Hung with dark affliction's gloom,
Shall smile again beneath the victor's meed,
And hail! with transport hail! his injured country freed!

CHORUS OF NATIVES.
Bearing on with hope elate,
From his beaming eye flash'd fate!
He th'avenger's work began,
The spell of panic terror burst;
And his daring hatchet first
Proved the invader was but man!

BAND OF WARRIORS.
To yield the breath,
And give to dust the mangled frame,
This is not death!
It is the warrior's birth to fame!
On! to the field of glory lead again,
And drive the invader back,—back to the guilty main!

[The Indians crowd around Houaco with wonder, joy, and affection.
LASCALA.
Noble Houaco! thy return brings joy,
Brings hope, brings life, to every Indian warrior!
Bliss to our great Cacique! But I—I, too,
Had sons I loved! to war with the invader
They follow'd thee. Trembling I ask their fate.

HOUACO.
Lascala, the brave youth who bore thy name,
Beneath his hatchet saw a Spaniard fall,
Ere to the land of spirits he was welcomed
By his forefathers.

LASCALA.
Oh! had I died so!

[He is lost in grief, while an old woman comes forward.
WOMAN.
And at thy feet I ask my Zama's fate:
Zama, from whose strong arm the arrow sped
Unerring in the chase.

HOUACO.
Nor err'd in war.
But the forged thunders of th'invading foe
More fatal sped, alas!

WOMAN.
Ah me, my boy!
And shall he never more, at evening's close,
Bear homeward from the mountain's side the prey
To cheer our cabin hearth? And shall Nayati,
His faithful wife Nayati, never more—

HOUACO.
Ha! faithful, say'st thou? Was Nayati faithful?
She shall be honour'd above all her sex!
Let her be crown'd—be led in triumph hither!
I thought there was no faith in womankind;
There is, it seems—there is—but not for me—
Houaco only is to no one dear.

THELASCO
(aside).
How strange his words!

LASCALA
(with trembling anxiety).
But say my Azlan lives;
One lives, at least, to close his father's eyes.

HOUACO.
He lives—

LASCALA.
He lives? and follows not thy steps?

HOUACO
(with bitterness).
He lives; and shares the fate—the bitter fate—
Of great Capana's son.

[He bares his wrist, and shows it to Lascala.
LASCALA.
These marks, Houaco,
What may they mean?

HOUACO
(with the utmost bitterness).
Chain'd!—manacled!—a slave!
Capana's son has lived!

LASCALA.
Say'st thou “has lived?”
And has th'invader bound e'en mighty Death
To do his will? Can Death no longer free
The man who will not live?

HOUACO.
To die, old man,
Were easy, as 'twere sweet. The very weeds
Our careless footsteps bruise, with juices teem
Will loose from life. 'Twere but to have refused
A little maize, and I had slept the sleep
Th'invader could not break: but sweet revenge
Had then been lost! Who would not live, Lascala,
And shake off death, e'en though within his grasp,
Nay, snatch at life with strong convulsive fondness,
Whose country's wrongs, whose private injuries,
For vengeance call?

LASCALA.
There spoke Capana's son.
Yes, we will follow thee where vengeance leads,
And free my Azlan.

HOUACO.
Stay, Lascala—stay!
Vengeance is slow. I, to Capana, must
Unfold the deep and secret means, nor strike
Till sure the blow. Thy Azlan's self would bleed
Were this hand rash.
(To Thelasco).
Valiant Thelasco,
Lend me that weapon in thy girdle fix'd.
[Thelasco hesitates.
Yes, Amazilia had been faithful too,
But for the potent spells these treach'rous men
Have foully wrested from mysterious nature.
Give me that weapon, and await me here;
Anon I will return with new life fraught,
And freer thoughts. I cannot yield my soul,
E'en to my country's claims, my father's love,
Till I have satisfied a private duty
Of strong imperious urgency. The weapon!
Give it, Thelasco, to my eager grasp.

THELASCO.
Take it, and may'st thou plunge it to the hilt
Where I would see it buried!
[Houaco rushes out with the dagger—Thelasco watches him.
With eagle speed,
By godlike vengeance wing'd, see how he darts
From cliff to cliff. We at a distance, friends,
Will follow on his steps, to grace his deeds,
Or, if aught ill befall, to give him aid.

[Exeunt, with music, as they entered.