OLLANTAY.
Now, Piqui Chaqui, speak the truth,
Seek not evasion or deceit.
Dost thou not already know,
Of all the flowers in the field,
Not one can equal my Princess?
PIQUI CHAQUI.
Still, my master, thou dost rave.
I think I never saw thy love.
Stay! was it her who yesterday
Came forth with slow and faltering steps
And sought a solitary[10] path[11]?
If so, ’tis true she’s like the sun,
The moon less beauteous than her face.[12]
OLLANTAY.
It surely was my dearest love.
How beautiful, how bright is she
This very moment thou must go
And take my message to the Star.
PIQUI CHAQUI.
I dare not, master; in the day,
I fear to pass the palace gate.
With all the splendour of the court,
I could not tell her from the rest.
OLLANTAY.
Didst thou not say thou sawest her?
PIQUI CHAQUI.
I said so, but it was not sense.
A star can only shine at night
Only at night could I be sure.
OLLANTAY.
Begone, thou lazy good-for-nought.
The joyful star that I adore,
If placed in presence of the Sun,
Would shine as brightly as before.
PIQUI CHAQUI.
Lo! some person hither comes,
Perhaps an old crone seeking alms;
Yes! Look! he quite resembles one.
Lot him the dangerous message take.
Send it by him, O noble Chief!
From me they would not hear the tale;
Thy page is but a humble lad.
(Enter the UILLAC UMA, or High Priest of the Sun, at the back, arms raised to the Sun. In a grey tunic and black mantle from the shoulders to the ground, a long knife in his belt, the undress chucu on his head.)
UILLAC UMA.
O giver of all warmth and light
O Sun! I fall and worship thee.
For thee the victims are prepared,
A thousand llamas and their lambs
Are ready for thy festal day.
The sacred fire’ll lap their blood,
In thy dread presence, mighty one,
After long fast[13] thy victims fall.