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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=407948" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Peruvian Tales: Cora, Tale VI</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">The troops of ALMAGRO and ALPHONSO meet on the plain of CUZCO --. MANCO -CAPAC attacks them by nights--His army is defeated, and he is forced to fly with its scattered remains--CORA goes in search of him-- Her infant in her arms--Overcome with fatigue, she rests at the foot of a mountain--An earthquake--A band of Indians fly to the mountain for shelter--CORA discovers her husband--Their interview--Her death --He escapes with his infant--ALMAGRO claims a share of the spoils of Cuzco--His contention with PIZARRO --The Spaniards destroy each other--ALMAGRO is taken prisoner, and put to death--His soldiers, in revenge, assassinate PIZARRO in his palace--LAS CASAS dies--The annual festival of the PERUVIANS --Their victories over the Spaniards in Chili--A wish for the restoration of their liberty--Conclusion. </div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>At length ALMAGRO and ALPHONSO'S train,<br>Each peril past, unite on Cuzco's plain;<br>CAPAC resolves beneath the shroud of night<br>To pierce the hostile camp, and brave the fight;<br>Though weak the wrong'd PERUVIANS ' arrowy showers<br>To the dire weapons stern IBERIA pours,<br>Fierce was th' unequal contest, for the soul,<br>When rais'd by some high passion's strong controul,<br>New strings the nerves, and o'er the glowing frame<br>Breathes the warm spirit of heroic flame.<br>But from the scene where raging slaughter burns,<br>The timid muse with silent horror turns;<br>The blended sounds of grief she panting hears,<br>Where anguish dims a mother's eye with tears;<br>Or where the maid, who gave to love's soft power<br>Her faithful spirit, weeps the parting hour;<br>And O, till death shall ease the tender woe,<br>That soul must languish, and those tears must flow;<br>For never with the thrill that rapture proves,<br>Her voice again shall hail the youth she loves!<br>Her earnest eye no more his form shall view,<br>Her quiv'ring lip has breath'd the last adieu!<br>Now night, that pour'd upon the hollow gale<br>The din of battle, dropp'd her mournful veil.<br>The sun rose lovely from the sleeping flood,<br>And morning glitter'd o'er the field of blood;<br>Where, bath'd in gore, PERUVIA'S vanquish'd train<br>Lay cold and senseless on the sanguine plain.<br>The gen'rous CAPAC saw his warriors yield,<br>And fled indignant from the conquer'd field.<br>A wretched throng from Cuzco now repair,<br>Who tread 'mid slaughter'd heaps in mute despair;<br>O'er some lov'd corse the shroud of earth to spread,<br>And breathe some ritual that may soothe the dead.<br>No moan was heard, for agony supprest<br>The fond complaints which ease the swelling breast;<br>Each hope for ever lost, they only crave<br>The deep repose that wraps the shelt'ring grave:--<br>So the meek lama, lur'd by some decoy<br>Of man, from all his unembitter'd joy,<br>Erewhile as free as roves the wand'ring breeze,<br>Meets the hard burden on his bending knees;<br>O'er rocks and mountains, dark and waste he goes,<br>Nor shuns the path where no fresh herbage grows;<br>Till, worn with toil, on earth he prostrate lies,<br>Heeds not the barb'rous lash, and scornful dies.<br>Swift o'er the field of death sad CORA flew,<br>Her infant to his mother's bosom grew;<br>She seeks her wretched lord, who fled the plain<br>With the last remnant of his vanquish'd train:<br>Thro' the long glen, or forest's gloomy shade,<br>A dreary solitude, the mourner stray'd;<br>Her timid heart can now each danger dare,<br>Her drooping soul is arm'd by deep despair--<br>Long, long she wander'd, till oppress'd with toil,<br>Her trembling footsteps track with blood the soil.<br>Where o'er an ample vale a mountain rose,<br>Low at its base her fainting form she throws:<br>"And here, my child," she cried, with panting breath,<br>"Here let us wait the hour of ling'ring death;<br>This famish'd bosom can no more supply<br>The streams that nourish life--my babe must die!<br>In vain I strive to cherish, for thy sake,<br>My failing strength; but when my heart-strings break,<br>When my cold bosom can no longer warm,<br>My stiff'ning arms no more enfold thy form,<br>Soft on this bed of leaves my child shall sleep--<br>Close to his mother's corse, he will not weep!<br>O! weep not then, my tender babe--tho' near,<br>I shall not hear thy moan, nor see thy tear;<br>Hope not to move me by thy mournful cry,<br>Nor seek with earnest look my answering eye."<br>As thus the dying CORA'S plaints arose,<br>O'er the fair valley sudden darkness throws<br>A hideous horror; thro' the wounded air<br>Howl'd the shrill voice of nature in despair;<br>The birds dart screaming thro' the fluid sky,<br>And, dash'd upon the cliff's hard surface, die;<br>High o'er their rocky bounds the billows swell,<br>Then to their deep abyss affrighted fell;<br>Earth groaning heaves with dire convulsive throes,<br>While yawning gulphs its central caves disclose.<br>Now rush'd a frighted throng with trembling pace<br>Along the vale, and sought the mountain's base;<br>Purpos'd its perilous ascent to gain,<br>And shun the ruin low'ring o'er the plain.<br>They reach'd the spot where CORA clasp'd her child,<br>And gaz'd on present death with aspect wild:<br>They pitying pause--she lifts her mournful eye,<br>And views her lord!--he hears his CORA'S sigh--<br>He meets her looks--their melting souls unite,<br>O'erwhelmed, and agoniz'd with wild delight.<br>At length she faintly cried, "we yet must part!<br>Short are these rising joys--I feel my heart,<br>My suff'ring heart is cold, and mists arise,<br>That shroud thy image from my closing eyes!<br>O, save my child!--our helpless infant save, <br>And shed a tear upon thy CORA'S grave."</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The fluttering pulse of life now ceas'd to play,<br>And in his arms a pallid corse she lay!<br>O'er her dear form he hung in speechless pain,<br>And still on CORA call'd--but call'd in vain;<br>Scarce could his soul in one short moment bear<br>The wild extremes of transport and despair.<br>Now o'er the west in melting softness streams<br>A lustre, milder than the morning beams;<br>A purer dawn dispell'd the fearful night,<br>And nature glow'd in all the blooms of light;<br>Then first the mourner, waking from his trance,<br>Cast on his smiling babe an eager glance:<br>Then rose the hollow voice on fancy's ear,<br>The parting words he hears, or seems to hear!<br>That sought with anxious tenderness to save<br>That dear memorial from the closing grave;<br>He clasps the object of his love's last care,<br>And vows for him the load of life to bear.<br>He journey'd o'er a dreary length of way,<br>To plains where freedom shed her hallow'd ray;<br>There, o'er the pathless wood, and mountain hoar,<br>His faithful band the lifeless CORA bore:<br>Ye who ne'er pin'd in sorrow's hopeless pain,<br>Deem not the toil that soothes its anguish vain;<br>Perchance the conscious spirit hovers near,<br>And love's fond tribute to the dead is dear.<br>Not long IBERIA'S sullied trophies wave,<br>Her guilty warriors press th' untimely grave;<br>For av'rice rising from the caves of earth,<br>Wakes all her savage spirit into birth:<br>Bids proud ALMAGRO feel her baleful flame,<br>And Cuzco's treasures from PIZARRO claim.<br>Now fierce in hostile rage each warlike train.<br>Purple with kindred blood PERUVIA'S plain;<br>While pensive on the hills, whose lofty brow<br>O'erhung with waving woods the vale below,<br>PERUVIA'S hapless tribes in scatter'd throngs,<br>Behold the fiends of strife avenge their wrongs:<br>Till, fetter'd in PIZARRO'S iron chain,<br>ALMAGRO swells the victor's captive train.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">In vain his pleading voice, his suppliant eye,<br>Conjure his conqu'ror by the holy tie<br>That seal'd their mutual league with sacred force,<br>When first to climes unknown they bent their course;<br>When danger's rising horrors low'r'd afar,<br>The storms of ocean, and the toils of war,<br>The sad remains of wasted life to spare,<br>The shrivell'd bosom, and the silver'd hair--<br>ALMAGRO dies--the victor's barb'rous pride<br>To his pale corpse funereal rites denied;<br>Chill'd by the heavy dews of night it lay,<br>And wither'd in the sultry beam of day;<br>Till Indian bosoms, touch'd with gen'rous woe,<br>Paid the last duties to a prostrate foe.<br>With unrelenting hate the conqu'ror views<br>ALMAGRO'S band, and vengeance still pursues.<br>Condemns the victims of his power to stray<br>In drooping poverty's chill, thorny way;<br>To pine with famine's agony severe,<br>And all the ling'ring forms of death to fear;<br>Till, by despair impell'd, the rival train,<br>Rush to the haughty victor's splendid fane;<br>Swift on their foe with rage impetuous dart,<br>And plunge their daggers in his guilty heart.<br>How unavailing now the treasur'd ore<br>That made PERUVIA'S rifled bosom poor!<br>He falls--unpitied, and would vainly buy<br>With ANDES ' mines, the tribute of a sigh.<br>Now faint with virtue's toil, LAS CASAS ' soul<br>Sought, with exulting hope, her heavenly goal:--<br>But whence descends, in streams of lambent light,<br>That lovely vision on the raptur'd sight?<br>'Tis Sensibility! she stands confest:<br>With trembling step she moves, and panting breast;<br>To yon deserted grave, lo, swift she flies,<br>Where her lov'd victim, mild LAS CASAS lies!<br>I see her deck the solitary haunt<br>With chaplets twin'd from every weeping plant:<br>Its odours soft the simple violet shed,<br>The shrinking lily hung its drooping head;<br>A moaning zephyr sigh'd within the bower,<br>And bent the frail stem of the pliant flower:<br>"Hither," she cried, her melting tone I hear,<br>It vibrates full on fancy's wakeful ear;<br>"Ye to whose yielding hearts my power endears,<br>The transport blended with delicious tears,<br>The bliss that swells to agony the breast,<br>The sympathy that robs the soul of rest;<br>Hither, with fond devotion, pensive come,<br>Kiss the pale shrine, and murmur o'er the tomb;<br>Bend on the hallow'd turf the tearful eye,<br>And breathe the precious incense of a sigh.<br>LAS CASAS ' tear has moisten'd misery's grave,<br>His sigh has moan'd the wretch he fail'd to save!<br>He, while conflicting pangs his bosom tear,<br>Has sought the lonely cavern of despair,<br>Where desolate she pin'd, and pour'd her thought<br>To the dread verge of wild distraction wrought.<br>While drops of mercy bath'd his hoary cheek,<br>He pour'd, by heav'n inspir'd, its accents meek;<br>In truth's clear mirror bade the mourner's view<br>Pierce the deep veil which error darkly drew,<br>And vanquish'd empire with a smile resign,<br>While brighter worlds in fair perspective shine."<br>She paus'd--yet still the sweet enthusiast bends<br>O'er the cold turf, and still her tear descends.<br>Ah, weak PERUVIA ! oft thy murmur'd sighs,<br>Thy stifled groans in fancy's ear arise;<br>She views, as slow the years of bondage roll,<br>On solemn days* when sorrow mocks controul,<br>Thy captive sons their antique garb assume,<br>And wake remember'd images of gloom.<br>Lo! ATALIBA'S murder'd form appears,<br>The mournful object of eternal tears!<br>Wild o'er the scene indignant glances dart,<br>And pangs convulsive seize the throbbing heart--<br>Distraction soon each burning breast inflames,<br>And from the tyrant foe a victim claims!<br>But now, dispersing desolation's night,<br>A ray benignant cheers my gladden'd sight!<br>A blooming Chieftain of Peruvian race,<br>Whose soaring soul its high descent can trace,<br>The feather'd standard rears on Chili's* plain,<br>And leads to glorious strife his gen'rous train.<br>And see, IBERIA bleeds! while Vict'ry twines<br>Her fairest garlands round PERUVIA'S shrines;<br>The gaping wounds of earth disclose no more<br>The lucid silver, and the blazing ore;<br>A brighter radiance gilds the passing hour,<br>While Freedom breaks the rod of lawless power;<br>On Andes' icy steep exulting glows,<br>And prints with rapid step th' eternal snows;<br>While, roll'd in dust her graceful feet beneath,<br>Fades the dark laurel of IBERIA'S wreath!--<br>PERU ! the timid muse who mourn'd thy woes,<br>Whom pity robb'd so long of dear repose,<br>The muse whose pensive soul with anguish wrung,<br>Her early lyre for thee has trembling strung;<br>Shed the vain tear, and breath'd the powerless sigh,<br>Which in oblivion with her song must die;<br>Pants with the wish thy deeds may rise to fame;<br>Bright on some high-ton'd harp's immortal frame,<br>While on the string of ecstacy it pours<br>Thy future triumphs o'er unnumber'd shores.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Helen+Maria+Williams">Helen Maria Williams</a><div class=q> <img src="https://www.citatepedia.ro/g/32share.png" style="float:left" alt="Share"> <script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=407948" data-title="Peruvian Tales: Cora, Tale VI de Helen Maria Williams" data-description="The troops of ALMAGRO and ALPHONSO meet on the plain of CUZCO --. MANCO -CAPAC attacks them by nights--His army is defeated, and he is forced to fly with its scattered remains--CORA goes in search of him-- Her infant in her arms--Overcome with fat..."></div> </div> </div>
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