Sketches of Aboriginal Life: American Tableaux, No. 1Vide, V. V.
History
Sketches of Aboriginal Life: American Tableaux, No. 1
Vide, V. V.
Historical fiction; Indians of North America -- Fiction; Mexico -- History -- Conquest, 1519-1540 -- Fiction
Presently the chanting ceased, and one
solitary voice broke forth in plaintive but emphatic recitative as from
the midst of the sparkling jet that played its ceaseless tune in the
grand porphyritic basin near which they stood. The words, which were
simple and oracular, struck deep into the heart of Montezuma, and found
a ready response in that of his royal brother.
The lion[C] walks forth in his power and pride,
The terror and lord of the forest wide--
When the fox appears, shall he flee and hide?
* * * * *
The eagle's nest is strong and high,
Unquestioned monarch of the sky--
Should he quail before the falcon's eye?
* * * * *
The sun rides forth through the heavens afar,
Dispensing light from his flaming car--
Should he veil his glory, or turn him back,
When the meteor flashes athwart his track?
* * * * *
Shall the eagle invite the hawk to his nest?
Shall the fox with the lion sit down as a guest?
Shall the meteor look out from the noonday sky,
When the sun in his power is flaming by?
The pauses in this significant chant were followed by choral symphonies,
expressing, as eloquently as inarticulate sounds could do, the most
earnest remonstrance, the most moving expostulation. When this was
concluded, the same sweet voice broke forth again, in tones of solemn
tenderness and majestic power, in a prophetic warning to Montezuma.
Beware, mighty monarch! beware of the hour,
When the pale-faced intruder shall come to this bower!
Beware of the weakness that whispers of fear,
When the all-grasping, gold-seeking Spaniard is near!
Beware how thou readest the dark scroll of fate!
Its mystic revealings may warn thee too late,
That the power to command, and the strength to oppose,
Are gone, when thou openest the gate to thy foes.
The white men are mortal--frail sons of the earth,
They know not, they claim not, a heavenly birth;
They bow to disease, and they fall by the sword,
Pale fear can disarm them, grim death is their lord;
And those terrible coursers, so fiery and strong,
That bear them like ravenous tigers along,
The fleet winged arrow shall pierce them, and slay,
And leave them to eagles and vultures a prey.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account