THE BRIDE OF
HUITZIL

I

Here begins the first scroll with the sign of a bundle of reeds tied about with a string, which is the symbol of fifty-two years.

In Anahuac there reigned a king
Some fifty summers old,
The bloody darling of his gods,
Who sent him luck and gold
And captives from a thousand fights,
And victory in each war;
No mercy kept within his heart—
He trusted in his star.
But doubts began to sap his mind,
For he was growing old.
The gods he feared might turn unkind;
He gave them plundered gold
And hung their images with hearts
Like roses on a bride,
And all the young slaves from the marts
On Huitzil's altars died.[[1]]
The priests got everything they sought.
They said the gods were wroth;
They had the rolls of tribute brought—
Chose bales of twisted cloth,
And cloaks of richest feather-work,
And opals set in gilt,
And many a keen obsidian knife
With carved and curious hilt,
And pearls for which their wives would quarrel,
And bags of cochineal,
And carefully matched and scarlet coral,
And chests of yellow meal,
And rainbow skins of quetzal birds,
Lip jewels, and each a ring;
And all they gave was doubtful words—
No comfort to the king.
Huitzil, they said, was sorely vexed;
Tlaloc would send no rain;
The more they kept the king perplexed
The more they had to gain.
"Gold I have given," said the king,
"And victims for the feasts;
What more is there that I can bring?"
"Bring beauty!" said the priests.
"Send runners swift to each cacique[[2]]
With scrolls of your command;
In hut and palace bid them seek
Fair virgins through the land;
Then bring them here and choose the maid
Who most shall please your eyes,
And have her as your bride arrayed,
And led to sacrifice."

So buzzing rumor rose and spread
Like locusts through the land;
The king would choose a wife, men said:
And chiefs on every hand
Snatched maidens from the cotton-looms,
Girls, grinding maize for cakes,
Captives for Tenochtitlan,
The city 'mid five lakes.
Across the causeways, borne by slaves,
The trembling virgins came;
They saw the Smoking Hill that laves[[3]]
Its molten sides in flame.
Canoes along the causeway's sides
Kept near; on rafts the throngs
Burned lamps to welcome home the brides;
Far rowers sang strange songs.

Now when the moon was fully grown,
The king left his abode
To sit upon the judgment throne
Set in the "Place of God,"
Massive with polished seat of jade;
A skull was his footstool.
The arras on the wall was made
Of beasts' hair wove like wool.

There, while a scribe announced the dower,
The women came, so fair—
Young warriors whispered, and their plumes
Bent, nodding, as when air
Of summer stirs the fronded trees
Along a mountain wall,
Where pigeons' wooings lull the breeze
And snow-fed rivers fall.

And so they passed from morn till noon:
First came a princess in;
Like polished bronze beneath the moon
Was her smooth, olive skin;
But rumor in the market place
Told of a strangled lover,
Of silver masks made of his face;[[4]]
The priests said, "Choose another!"
Then daughters of rich merchants came,
Dowered with silver T's.[[5]]
With downcast eyes, they were too tame;
Huitzil would none of these.