“Naked spirit, give this answer: “‘Vitzliputzli sends thee greeting, “‘And a pestilence he wishes “‘In thy belly, thou accurst one! “‘Thou didst urge him to the conflict, “‘And thy counsel was destruction; “‘Soon will be fulfill’d the evil “‘Old and mournful prophecy “‘Of the kingdom’s subjugation “‘By the men so fiercely bearded, “‘Who on wooden birds all flying “‘From the Eastern land come hither. “‘There’s an ancient proverb also-- “‘Woman’s will is God’s will likewise-- “‘And the God’s will is redoubled “‘When the woman is his mother. “‘She it is that wakes my anger, “‘She, the haughty queen of heaven, “‘She, a pure and spotless virgin, “‘Working charms and versed in magic. “‘She protects the Spanish people, “‘And we all at length must perish, “‘I, the poorest of the godheads, “‘And my poor, dear Mexico.’-- “When thou hast fulfill’d thy message, Red-coat, let thy naked spirit In a sandhole creep; sleep soundly Out of sight of all my misery. “This proud temple will be shatter’d, “I myself shall in its ruins “Disappear,--mere dust and rubbish,-- “No one e’er again will see me. “Yet I shall not die; we godheads “Grow as old as do the parrots, “And we cast our skins, and like them “Only change at times our feathers. “To my foemen’s native country “Which they give the name of Europe “I shall fly away, beginning “There a really new career. “I’ll turn devil, and the god “Then shall be a God-be-with-us; “As my foemen’s evil spirit “I can work as best may suit me. “There my enemies I’ll trouble, “And alarm them all with phantoms; “As a foretaste of hell’s torments, “Brimstone they shall smell in plenty. “Both their wise men and their doltards “I’ll allure with my seductions; “And their virtue will I tickle “Till it laughs like any strumpet. “Yes, I’ll turn into a devil, “And salute as my dear comrades “Satanas and Belial with him, “Astaroth and Beelzebub. “Thee I’ll also greet, O Lilis, “Sin’s own mother, smooth-skinn’d serpent “Teach me all thy dreadful secrets, “And the charming art of lying! “My belovèd Mexico, “I no longer can preserve thee, “But I’ll fearfully avenge thee, “My belovèd Mexico!” _BOOK II.--LAMENTATIONS._ Good fortune quite a fickle miss is, And in one place will never stay; The hair from off thy face with kisses She strokes, and then she flies away. Misfortune to her heart, however, To clasp thee tightly, ne’er omits; She says she’s in a hurry never, Sits down beside thy bed and knits. WOOD SOLITUDE. In former days, in my life’s young morning, I wore a garland my brow adorning; How wondrously glisten’d then every flower! The garland was fill’d with a magical power.