For, in their raid so strong and bold,
The Spaniards had never found him.
Kind guardian spirits had watched him there,
From ages long—long faded,
Embalmed with gems and spices rare,
And in folds of sweet grass braided.
And priestly rites were duly done,
And hymns upraised to bless him,
And that gold mantle of the sun,
Put on, as a monarch to dress him.