And daughters of Tlascala's chiefs,[[6]]
Bringing a precious dower—
Their fathers' friendship, with rich fiefs
Boasting a warlike power.
Pale girls from Huexotzinco's shades,
Where willows cool the air,
From far Tlaxcallan, sun-burned maids,
Bronzed in the cornfields there.
Girls from Cholula's pyramid,
Born by its terraced side—
The morning shadows waned and hid;
The king had found no bride!
Then came a maid straight as a spear,
Lithe as the bending maize
When only silk is in the ear;
Upon her eyes a haze.
She walked with all a panther's grace,
And like a pleasant tune
Her voice, and her round breasts were firm
As rosebuds in young June.
And as a cougar longs for meat,
The king desired the maid.
He cast an arrow at her feet—
A sign his choice was made.
The priests on twisted conch-shells blew,
Shouted the market place;
Hatred of Huitzil seized the king;
He loved the maiden's face.
She was a huntress, fair but poor,
Sleek puma skins her dower,
Traced through the jungle by their spoor
Past many a vine-closed bower,
Tracked to the hills and brought to bay,
Slain by the ice-green streams,
With the hissing arrow at break of day,
When the wakened eagle screams.
But when the high priest found the king
Had chosen her for bride,
He raged at heart to hear the thing—
"No dower" hurt his pride
And avarice; and straightway he sent
Down to the king's abode,
To say that sunset was the time
To bring her to the god.
The king's house rang with happiness
And sound of marriage gongs;
Ten maidens helped the bride to dress,
While slave girls sang old songs;
She was arrayed in cloaks of plumes
From birds of paradise,
Woven on feather-workers' looms,
More gorgeous than bright dyes,
Lined with the down of humming-birds,
Trimmed with the parrot's wing;
And compliments as smooth as curds
And jewels came from the king,
And gifts brought by his brother's wife
With well dissembled smile—
Wishes for children and long life
Whispered with subtle guile.
Meantime the king had gone aside,
His heart and brain at odds
Whether to keep his lovely bride
Or give her to the gods.
At sunset, in a silver litter
He brought her through the city,
Still doubtful, and his heart grew bitter
Struggling with fear and pity.
White flowers fell before the maiden—
He crushed them with his feet.
The air with garden scents was laden,
Mad dancers filled the street.
Before cruel Huitzil's pyramid
She waited for the king.
He loved her so, fear of the gods
Now seemed a foolish thing,
Something to laugh at and to scorn,
A sick thought he had dreamed,
Vaguely recalled at early morn—
So Huitzil's vengeance seemed.
Fresh courage flushed his veins, as spring
With new sap thrills an oak,
And he remembered he was king;
Never a word he spoke.
A grim smile sat upon his face;
He led her up the stair,
Up to the holy level space,
Where chanting smote the air.
Before the fire, priests knelt in lines.
A beast-mask was afoot:
Prayers droned like night-winds in the pines.
Painted with blood and soot,
The high priest cried, as though in prayer,
"Bring hither Huitzil's bride!
Be swift, point out the victim, king!"
And she smiled by his side.
Gazing about with narrowed eyes
Like puma's in the sun,
While priests prepared for sacrifice,
He saw his brother's son—
How merciful to send him death
And spare him life's sure pains—
Death's but a stupor at the worst,
A languor in the veins!
Straightway he pointed out the child,
Who instantly was hid
By the swift dancers—in a breath
Across the pyramid
They swept him to the waiting stone,
Bull-rattles drowned his cries;
Before he died, he saw his heart
Held up before his eyes.
The high priest raged behind his mask,
But yet he dared not falter.
He joined the king to Huitzil's bride
Before the god's own altar,
Knowing the king's cup must be full
And vengeance would abide.
That night the king laughed in his heart
And slept with Huitzil's bride.
Here ends the first scroll with the picture of
a man sitting upon the ground,
which is the sign of an
earthquake, or troubles
to come.
[[1]] Huitxilopochtli, the Mexican Mars.
[[2]] Cacique, Chief or lord of a district.