For sad presages of impending doom,
O'er his sick fancy hung unusual gloom.
His bands he led in order thro' the shade,
As if he fear'd a springing ambuscade.
Couriers he sent before, with timely speed,
To try the passes, and the war to lead,
And nam'd a place to meet. The tangled dell
They past, but ne'er return'd their doom to tell.
Now at the rendezvous arriv'd, they stood
To wait their spies returning from the wood,
While, as the time drew on, in every breast
Contending hope and doubt the soul opprest.
Nor long the heroes stood in sage debate,
But all at length resolv'd to share their fate,
Whether by Heaven's behest they scap'd the snare,
Or fell the victims of insidious war;

And tho' a falt'ring pause the boldest felt,
Yet no presage their high resolve could melt;
On their good falchions, oft in battle try'd,
And strenuous arms the gallant bands rely'd.
Scarce two short leagues along the glade they move,
When, midst the dark funereal boughs above,
Hung by their gory locks, aloft were seen
Their comrades' heads above the hostile green;
Or fix'd on pales within the deadly pass,
Glar'd on their friends with formidable grace.
Mute with surprize, but firm and unsubdu'd,
In solemn gaze awhile the soldiers stood,
But stood not long, for Fury soon began
To rouse to deeds of blood the hardy clan.
Storming with rage, and cursing dull delay,
They call their Captains on to lead the way.
Their Lord, who saw the future in the past,
Stood silent for a space, and try'd at last,

Calmly, with look sedate, and temper cool,
The dangerous ardour of the train to rule,
"Ye gallant Champions of the Cross," he cry'd,
"Be firm, be fearless, but let reason guide.
"You see our bold rebellious slaves display
"Their hostile ensigns in the face of day,

46

Triumphant over broken faith they rise, "And spurn their oaths, recorded in the skies; "We hear their deadly trumpets angry sound, "We spy the flames of Discord kindling round, "And know what lives were lavish'd to subdue, "And bend beneath our laws the savage crew: "When Fortune led us on, with conqu'ring arms, "Thro' paths of deadly guile, and fierce alarms, "This ground was often drunk with hostile gore, "That bought our triumphs on this fatal shore: "But dangers new our sagest counsels claim, "To guard the glories of the Spanish name. "Inveterate Hate, by habit nurst, you know, "And scorn of life inspires the savage foe;

And, should we fail, their pride, despising bound, "Would flame defiance to the world around. "This gives me pause, nor can my anxious eye "The safer path in this dilemma spy."

Fermenting courage in each bosom flam'd Of those bold youths, by evil yet untam'd, And native valour beam'd in every eye: "Let us but see them once," aloud they cry, "Let ten of us be nam'd to face the foe,

"We'll force the post, and lay their standard low. "We know not fear, nor be it ever told

"That dastard dread our inborn worth controll'd; "Our taintless honour deprecates the thought,

That, by retreat, a moment's life were bought.

One faltering motion, one retiring pace, "Would shade our long renown with deep disgrace. "No, let us with undaunted march proceed, "We dare to follow, if you chuse to lead." Valdivia's burning cheek the pangs confest Of shame and honour, struggling in his breast. Ill-fated Chief! the dire effect you saw

Of youthful rage that spurn'd at Reason's law; The keen, and venom'd shaft of causeless blame, You, like a Warrior, felt with honest shame; False honour o'er your better sense prevail'd, The Soldier triumph'd, but the General fail'd: You rather wish'd to sink among the slain, Than soil your honour with the slightest stain! While thus revenge and war the soldiers vow'd, A friendly Indian, from the martial crowd Sprung forth, and to Valdivia thus exclaim'd: "O mighty Chief, in many a combat fam'd, "Recal the word, nor try that dang'rous way, "Full twice ten thousand foes, in dread array, "Cover the plains of Tucapel afar,

"Confederate all, impatient for the war;
"All bound in solemn oaths to meet their doom,
"And purchase freedom, or a glorious tomb."
At this report, a cold sensation past

O'er every bosom like a wintry blast;
The King of Terrors seem'd to stalk around,
And every shuddering heart his presence found:
The noble Chieftain, unappall'd alone,

Beheld them blanch, and thus in angry tone:
"What! do ye falter ere you see the foe!
"Be constant, or the soldier's name forego!"
Then with a look that spoke a wounded mind,
He spurr'd his courser on: the crowd behind

The damp contagion from their souls expell'd,
And dauntless follow'd o'er the dusty field.
Soon Tucapel's retiring heights display
The fatal champain to the face of day.
The fortress first their wond'ring eyes survey'd,
Late a proud pile, but now in ruin laid.

"O noble friends! aloud the General cry'd,
"Those walls I thought the utmost force defy'd
"Of hostile rage, but see how low they lie,
"A spectacle of ruin to the sky!

"The deadly foe in arms we soon shall meet,
"No friendly castle here affords retreat;
"On our good swords alone we now depend
"To purchase conquest, or a glorious end."
While thus he strove their gallant hearts to warm,
A distant rumour, like a gathering storm,
Broke on th' unfinish'd word; and soon were seen
Innumerous spears, thick glancing o'er the green,
Brandish'd by hostile hands; while all around
Was heard this dire salute, with sullen sound:
"Robbers! advance, and with your blood repay
"The wrongs we bore beneath your deadly sway;
"Your lands and lives you now must leave behind,
"Your deadly sentence Fate at last has sign'd."
The General saw that now the hour was come,
That nought but valour could decide their doom,
Then bade a Chieftain with his troop invade
A squadron of the foe, whose files display'd
A scantier depth: the noble Spaniard flew
Like bolted fire against the hostile crew.
From Mareande's hills the warriors came,
Second to none in military fame;

To meet the shock before the hostile band
The hardy pikemen in close order stand.

Soon, at the lightning of the lifted spear,
The serried files divide from van to rear,
And let the Spaniards pass; then hemm'd behind
The luckless foe, as in a net confin'd;
Who, buried in the hostile crowd afar,
Soon disappear'd amid the mingling war.
Thus the fell crocodile, in ambush laid,
When finny shoals his secret haunt invade;
While troubling the clear stream they sport along,
With mighty jaws engulphs the heedless throng,
Then closing his wide mouth with eager haste,
Battens at leisure on the rich repast;

So our thin squadron soon to sight was lost
Among the numbers of the savage host;
Nor one escap'd of that distinguish'd few,
Who first in arms assail'd the hostile crew.
Now the loud trumpet gave the fatal sign,
Slow mov'd the mighty Araucanian line;
And now they bend their shadowy wings to close
In one gigantic sweep their gallant foes.
Valdivia, yet, by no example wise
That instant to an hardy leader cries,
With a bold voluntary band to face

The foe, that now advanc'd with steady pace.
Twice five were only found that dar'd to brave
Their fate, and seek, by wounds, a glorious grave:
They, spurring on their steeds, with loosen'd rein
Met with a mighty shock the pagan train.
Nine spears at once were dy'd in hostile gore,
One only left his steed, to rise no more.
Pierc'd with barbarian shafts the soldier lay,
And breath'd in mortal pangs his soul away.

Thro' ranks of death the nine bold brethren rode, And drench'd the summer sands with hostile blood;