He entered it by the dreadful passage of the snows of the Andes; but afterwards the passage was attempted through the desert of Atacama.
[218] The reader is referred to Molina for a particular description of the war sacrifice, which is very striking and poetical.
[219] Name of the War-deity.
[220] Terrific imaginary beings, called "man-animals," that leave their caves by night, and scatter pestilence and death as they fly .-- See _Molina._ [221] "Render them back upon the insulted ocean."-- _Coleridge._ CANTO FIFTH.
ARGUMENT.
Ocean Cave--Spanish Captive--Wild Indian Maid--Genius of Andes, and Spirits.
'Tis dawn:--the distant Andes' rocky spires, One after one, have caught the orient fires.
Where the dun condor shoots his upward flight, His wings are touched with momentary light.
Meantime, beneath the mountains' glittering heads, A boundless ocean of gray vapour spreads, That o'er the champaign, stretching far below, Moves now, in clustered masses, rising slow, Till all the living landscape is displayed In various pomp of colour, light, and shade, 10 Hills, forests, rivers, lakes, and level plain, Lessening in sunshine to the southern main.
The Llama's fleece fumes with ascending dew; The gem-like humming-birds their toils renew; And there, by the wild river's devious side, The tall flamingo, in its crimson pride, Stalks on, in richest plumage bright arrayed, With snowy neck superb,[222] and legs of lengthening shade.
Sad maid, for others may the valleys ring, For other ears the birds of morning sing; 20 For other eyes the palms in beauty wave, Dark is thy prison in the ocean-cave! Amid that winding cavern's inmost shade, A dripping rill its ceaseless murmur made: Masses of dim-discovered crags aloof, Hung, threatening, from the vast and vaulted roof: And through a fissure, in its glimmering height, Seen like a star, appeared the distant light; Beneath the opening, where the sunbeams shine, Far down, the rock-weed hung its slender twine.

30 Here, pale and bound, the Spanish captive lay, Till morn on morn, in silence, passed away; When once, as o'er her sleeping child she hung, And sad her evening supplication sung; Like a small gem, amidst the gloom of night, A glow-worm shot its green and trembling light,-- And, 'mid the moss and craggy fragments, shed Faint lustre o'er her sleeping infant's head; And hark! a voice--a woman's voice, its sound Dies in faint echoes, 'mid the vault profound: 40 Let us pity the poor white maid![223] She has no mother near! No friend to dry her tear! Upon the cold earth she is laid: Let us pity the poor white maid! It seemed the burden of a song of woe; And see, across the gloom an Indian girl move slow! Her nearer look is sorrowful, yet mild, Her hanging locks are wreathed with rock-weed wild; Gently she spoke, Poor Christian, dry thy tear: 50 Art thou afraid?
all are not cruel here.
Oh! still more wretched may my portion be, Stranger, if I could injure thine and thee! And, lo! I bring, from banks and thickets wild, Wood-strawberries, and honey for thy child.
Whence, who art thou, who, in this fearful place, Does comfort speak to one of Spanish race?
INDIAN.
It is an Indian maid, who chanced to hear Thy tale of sorrow, as she wandered near: I loved a white man once; but he is flown, 60 And now I wander heartless and alone.
I traced the dark and winding way beneath: But well I know to lead thee hence were death.
Oh, say! what fortunes cast thee o'er the wave, On these sad shores perhaps to find a grave?
SPANISH WOMAN.
Three years have passed since a fond husband left Me and this infant, of his love bereft; Him I have followed; need I tell thee more, Cast helpless, friendless, hopeless, on this shore.
INDIAN.
Oh! did he love thee, then?
Let death betide, 70 Yes, from this cavern I will be thy guide.
Nay, do not shrink! from Caracalla's bay, Ev'n now, the Spaniards wind their march this way.
As late in yester eve I paced the shore I heard their signal-guns at distance roar.
Wilt thou not follow?
He will shield thy child,-- The Christian's God,--through passes dark and wild He will direct thy way! Come, follow me; Oh, yet be loved, be happy, and be free! But I, an outcast on my native plain, 80 The poor Olola ne'er shall smile again! So guiding from the cave, when all was still, And pointing to the furthest glimmering hill, The Indian led, till, on Itata's side, The Spanish camp and night-fires they descried: Then on the stranger's neck that wild maid fell, And said, Thy own gods prosper thee, farewell! The owl[224] is hooting overhead; below, On dusky wing, the vampire-bat sails slow.
Ongolmo stood before the cave of night, 90 Where the great wizard sat:--a lurid light Was on his face; twelve giant shadows frowned, His mute and dreadful ministers, around.
Each eye-ball, as in life, was seen to roll, Each lip to move; but not a living soul Was there, save bold Ongolmo and the seer.
The warrior half advanced his lifted spear, Then spoke: Dread master of the mighty lore! Say, shall the Spaniards welter in their gore?
Let these dark ministers the answer tell, 100 Replied the master of the mighty spell.
Then every giant-shadow, as it stood, Lifted on high a skull that dropped with blood.
Yet more, the impatient warrior cried; yet more! Say, shall I live, and drink the tyrant's gore?
'Twas silence.

Speak! he cried: none made reply.
At once strange thunder shook the distant sky, And all was o'er; the grisly shapes are flown, And the grim warrior stands in the wild woods alone.
St Pedro's church had rung its midnight chimes, 110 And the gray friars were chanting at their primes, When winds, as of a rushing hurricane, Shook the tall windows of the towered fane;-- Sounds more than earthly with the storm arose, And a dire troop are passed to Andes' snows, Where mighty spirits in mysterious ring Their dread prophetic incantations sing, Round Chillan's crater-smoke, whose lurid light Streams high against the hollow cope of night.
Thy genius, Andes, towering o'er the rest, 120 Rose vast, and thus a phantom-shape addressed: Who comes so swift amid the storm?
Ha! I know thy bloodless form, I know thee, angel, who thou art, By the hissing of thy dart! 'Tis Death, the king! the rocks around, Hark! echo back the fearful sound;-- 'Tis Death, the king! away, away! The famished vulture scents its prey.
Spectre, hence! we cannot die-- 130 Thy withering weapons we defy; Dire and potent as thou art! Then spoke the phantom of the uplifted dart: Spirits who in darkness dwell, I heard far off your secret spell! Enough, on yonder fatal shore, My fiends have drank your children's gore; Lo! I come, and doom to fate The murderers, and the foe you hate! Of all who shook their hostile spears, 140 And marked their way through blood and tears, (Now sleeping still on yonder plain) But one--one only shall remain, Ere thrice the morn shall shine again.
Then sang the mighty spirits.

Thee, they sing, Hail to thee, Death, all hail to Death, the king! The penguin flaps her wings in gore, Devoted Spain, along the shore.
Whence that shriek?
with ghastly eyes, Thy victor-chief abandoned lies! 150 Victor of the southern world, Whose crimson banners were unfurled O'er the silence of the waves,-- O'er a land of bleeding slaves! Victor, where is now thy boast; Thine iron steeds, thy mailed host?
Hark! hark! even now I hear his cries!-- Spirits, hence!--he dies! he dies! [222] The neck of the flamingo is white, and its wings of rich and beautiful crimson.
[223] From Mungo Park.
[224] The owl is an object of peculiar dread to the Indian of Chili.
CANTO SIXTH.
ARGUMENT.
The City of Conception--The City of Penco--Castle--Lautaro--Wild Indian Maid--Zarinel--Missionary.
The second moon had now begun to wane, Since bold Valdivia left the southern plain; Goal of his labours, Penco's port and bay, Far gleaming to the summer sunset lay.
The wayworn veteran, who had slowly passed Through trackless woods, or o'er savannahs vast, With hope impatient sees the city spires Gild the horizon, like ascending fires.
Now well-known sounds salute him, as more near The citadel and battlements appear; 10 The approaching trumpets ring at intervals; The trumpet answers from the rampart walls, Where many a maiden casts an anxious eye, Some long-lost object of her love to espy, Or watches, as the evening light illumes The points of lances, or the passing plumes.
The grating drawbridge and the portal-arch, Now echo to the long battalion's march; Whilst every eye some friend remembered greets, Amid the gazing crowd that throngs the streets.

20 As bending o'er his mule, amid the throng, Pensive and pale, Anselmo rode along, How sacred, 'mid the noise of arms, appeared His venerable mien and snowy beard! Whilst every heart a silent prayer bestowed, Slow to the convent's massy gate he rode: Around, the brothers, gratulating, stand, And ask for tidings of the southern land.
As from the turret tolls the vesper bell, He seeks, a weary man, his evening cell, 30 No sounds of social cheer, no beds of state, Nor gorgeous canopies his coming wait; But o'er a little bread, with folded hands, Thanking the God that gave, a while he stands; Then, while all thoughts of earthly sorrow cease, Upon his pallet lays him down in peace.
The scene how different, where the castle-hall Rings to the loud triumphant festival: A hundred torches blaze, and flame aloof, Long quivering shadows streak the vaulted roof,-- 40 Whilst, seen far off, the illumined windows throw A splendour on the shore and seas below.
Amid his captains, in imperial state, Beneath a crimson canopy, elate, Valdivia sits--and, striking loud the strings, The wandering ministrel of Valentia sings.
For Chili conquered, fill the bowl again! For Chili conquered, raise the heroic strain! Lautaro left the hall of jubilee Unmarked, and wandered by the moonlit sea: 50 He heard far off, in dissonant acclaim, The song, the shout, and his loved country's name.
As swelled at times the trump's insulting sound, He raised his eyes impatient from the ground; Then smote his breast indignantly, and cried, Chili! my country; would that I had died On the sad night of that eventful day When on the ground my murdered father lay! I should not then, dejected and alone, Have thought I heard his injured spirit groan.