Thus wounds, when left to fester, in the close
Bring on a sable train of cureless woes.
Mercy is cruelty when ills invade,
And timely cure is by neglect delay'd.
If the deep gangrene calls the searching steel,
The stroke is needful, tho' the man may feel;
Even soft Compassion holds the saving knife
That lops the member, to preserve the life.
Forbid it, Heaven! that every crime should draw The trenchant sword of unrelenting law,
Except when deadly guilt the wound requires,
Pregnant with plagues, and warm'd by stygian fires;
The guilt was mutual here; the lust of gold
Foster'd the fiend to licence uncontroll'd:
No strong corrective hand his rage represt,
Till his dark venom boil'd in every breast.
The strictest laws of Nemesis abjure
That wanton cruelty that kills to cure,
And wades thro' deluges of blood, to claim
For deeds of ruthless stamp, a lasting name:
Or with a causeless and unbounded rage
Which Mercy tries in vain to melt or suage;
For solitary crimes with deadly wrath
Consigns a guiltless hecatomb to death.
The Muse might here indulge an ample view,
And this important theme at large pursue;
But Modesty forbids the depths to scan,
That shew the duties, and the claims of man.
Censure and Envy, with malignant eyes,
In me a partial bias might surmise;
But this, at least, is clear, that careless sway,
And absence of a King, to num'rous ills betray.
To trace the course of wrong no more the Muse Attempts, but now her former theme pursues,
Nor longer now forsakes the path assign'd
To sow the seeds of wisdom in the wind *;
Gladly she turns to that advent'rous band,
Whose gallant deeds a nobler flight deinand;
Ambitious to consign to endless fame
The glory of each far-distinguish'd name;
But ah! a nobler palm than she can give
These youths demand to bid their memory live;
Yet even this monument of rustic praise,
That such an humble bard as I can raise,
To times remote may send their glories down,
And other ages hear their long renown;
Till unborn heroes, kindling at the view,
Shall bid the fair example live anew.
Their names, before their deeds, O Muse! record;
Cortez, Almagro's far-destroying sword,
Cordova, with Nereda's heir combin'd,
Moran, Gonzalo, with Hernandez join'd;
With Maldonado, Penalosa came,
Their place Vergara next, and Garcia claim,
Herrera nigh with Castaneda rode,
Like the twin offspring of th' Olympian God;
And noble Manrique, not the lowest name,
Brought up the rear, and clos'd the lists of fame;
Those, when the fallen Valdivia sent for aid,
With eager haste the martial call obey'd,
And spurr'd along, unconscious of the doom
That sent their General to th' untimely tomb.
By Puren's shadowy cliffs the heroes past,
And reach'd a sylvan theatre at last,
Al viento en el Oeferto las Razones.--Orig.
Where marks of mighty rendezvous were seen,
For countless feet had mark'd the trodden green;
By num'rous signs they soon discover'd clear,
That wild Revolt had rais'd her standard here;
Yet neither stopp'd their course, nor turn'd aside,
Till mild Aurora's crimson vest they spy'd,
Above the dawning hills display'd afar,
And gladly hail'd the morn's ascending car.
Fair Elicura's opening vale they spy,
When Sol o'erlook'd the woods with lordly eye.
Here in dread ambuscade the Indians lay,
Hoping that, when their Foes pursu'd their way
In careless march, a loose, disorder'd host,
Their bands, conceal'd around the fatal post,
Might hem them in amid the woodland gloom
All unawares, and mark them for the tomb.
Three steep descending glades the Warriors past,
And to the central shades arriv'd at last;
Where stood their foes, deep rang'd in alleys green,
Hiding in sylvan mask their hideous mien;
Sudden, the Araucanian trump afar
Was heard, and tambourines provoke the war;
Barbarian cymbals join their deadly sound,
And doubling echoes from the vales rebound,
While from their green retreats in dread array
The Indians pour, and intercept the way.
Not hunters, when the starting hare they see
Stretching, with tim'rous speed, along the lea,
More transports feel, than each Iberian breast,
At the first prospect of the foe confest.
Instant, their thund'ring steeds they spurr'd along,
Eager to plunge amid the hostile throng.
Of flinty-headed pikes the Indians drew
A line before to foil the Christian crew;
Yet nought the Christians, at their force dismay'd, Dismist the boldest to the stygian shade;
And spears and spearmen, helms and batter'd shields,
In various havoc spread the fatal fields.
With active hands, but hopeless hearts, they fought,
For still new numbers hemm'd the fatal spot.
Two squadrons, in a circle wide, surround
The fatal wood; the third maintains its ground
Against their foes: their foes in close array
Came on with levell'd spears, or break away.
And now in deadly tournament they join,
And with fierce inrode part the lengthen'd line.
Again their rallying foes and legions meet,
And force them back to find a safe retreat.
Now back to back they fight: now side by side,
And chace their wounded foes along the forest wide.
Soon other foes, assembling in the rear,
Laugh at the light'ning of the lifted spear.
Thus twice with desperate rage to force their way
They strove, as oft the Indians firm array
At every pass their furious course withstood
Among the mazes of the faithless wood.
Then facing to the long defile, that led
Where Casafuerte rais'd its awful head
Of old, to right, to left the warriors wheel'd,
But still the thronging Indians fill'd the field,
And mingling boldly with the gallant band
Provok'd th' unequal conflict hand to hand.
At length from that sad vale a pass they found,
By mining waters thro' the lofty mound
Open'd of old, where now the sinking soil
Promis'd a seeming respite to their toil;
So narrow was the way, that as they past
Along the path by shelving hills embrac'd,
As slowly on they fil'd a Knight behind,
With single valour check'd their foes combin'd;
The ridge was skirted by a gloomy wood,
Thro' this the warriors past by fate pursued,
Full in the track behind. A friendly slave
They met at last, who to Almagro gave
A billet, which with better hopes before
His trusty servant to Valdivia bore,
To fix their rendezvous, but bore in vain;
And now, the triumphs of the barb'rous train
Return'd, with all the marks of fear to tell,
And how the great Valdivia fought and fell;
His people fall, the castle's overthrow,
He told, a sad variety of woe.
The champions heard the news with thrilling pain,
And, marching onward, found a narrow plain;
By east and west, and on the northern side
Emboss'd, the south alone a pass supply'd.
Hither they bent their course, retiring slow,
Still on their rearward hang th' insulting foe.
In lengthen'd files they haste, behind, before,
And thro' the tangled wood their prey explore:
And now they reach the plain, and full in sight
Their destin'd victims view with stern delight:
Then all the vallies rung with loud alarms,
Calling afar the scatter'd bands to arms.
Now in two squadrons form'd, the savage crew
Came onward, and the deadly fight renew.
The champions bold, who saw it vain to fly,
Resolv'd to force a passage through, or die.
The bold Lincoya led the hostile band;
Their formidable wings on either hand
They spread, while mixt with fifes, the savage yell Of thousands seem'd the harmony of hell.
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