The blasts unburden'd take their upward course, And o'er the mountain top resume their force. Swift thro the long white ridges from the north The rapid whirlwinds lead their terrors forth; High walks the storm, the circling surges rise, And wild gyrations wheel the hovering skies; Vast hills of snow, in sweeping columns driven, Deluge the air and choke the void of heaven; Floods burst their bounds, the rocks forget their place, And the firm Andes tremble to their base. Long gazed the host; when thus the stubborn chief, With eyes on fire, and fill'd with sullen grief: Behold thy careless god, secure on high, Laughs at our woes and peaceful walks the sky, Drives all his evils on these seats sublime, And wafts his favors to a happier clime; Sire of the dastard race thy words disclose, There glads his children, here afflicts his foes. Hence! speed thy flight! pursue him where he leads; Lest vengeance seize thee for thy father's deeds, Thy immolated limbs assuage the fire Of those curst Powers, who now a gift require. The youth in haste collects his scanty train, And, with the sun, flies o'er the western plain; The fading orb with plaintive voice he plies, To guide his steps and light him down the skies. So when the moon and all the host of even Hang pale and trembling on the verge of heaven, While storms ascending threat their nightly reign, They seek their absent sire, and sink below the main. Now to the south he turns; where one vast plain Calls from a hundred hordes the warrior train; Of various dress and various form they show'd; Each wore the ensign of his local god. From eastern hills a grisly troop descends, Whose war song wild the shuddering concave rends; Cloak'd in a tiger's hide their grim chief towers, And apes the brinded god his tribe adores. The tusky jaws grin o'er the sachem's brow, The bald eyes glare, the paws depend below, From his bored ears contorted serpents hung, And drops of gore seem'd rolling on his tongue. The northern glens pour forth the Vulture-race; Brown tufts of quills their shaded foreheads grace; The claws branch wide, the beak expands for blood, And all the armor imitates the god. The Condor, frowning from a southern plain, Borne on a standard, leads a numerous train: Clench'd in his talons hangs an infant dead, His long bill pointing where the sachems tread, His wings, tho lifeless, frighten still the wind, And his broad tail o'ershades the file behind. From other plains and other hills afar, The tribes throng dreadful to the promised war; Some twine their forelock with a crested snake, Some wear the emblems of a stream or lake; All from the Power they serve assume their mode, And foam and yell to taste the Incan blood.