Frowning to wither, blight, destroy,
Or beaming light, and life, and joy;
And hear ye clouds, that, hurrying past,
Waft spirits wild on storm and blast;
Ye demons, who delight to dwell
In the dark wave's tumultuous swell,
Or, wrapped in subterranean fire,
Work your fierce will in quenchless ire;
Hear, and attest, in murmurs deep,
The vow of vengeance ne'er to sleep:
Proclaim in thunder, seal in blood,
The tie of vengeful brotherhood!"

Once more beneath the branches flung,
The traveller's shrinking hand he wrung:
"I deemed not mortal man should dare
In wrongs so deep, so dark, as mine,
In luxury so rich, to share;

But, Briton, lo the cup is thine,
The draught of sweet revenge to drain,
Till not one lingering drop remain.
I've spread a wilier snare to-day,
Than e'er enclosed the beast of prey:
Before another sun be set,
Thou'lt view the quarry in the net.
I thought not to endure thy feet
Within my deep unseen retreat;
But we are brothers, I have said,

And waked the hope I will not mock;
Thy kindred blood on Gondolph's blade

Shall be thy pass through flood and rock; And from that rock thine arm may sweep His mangled carcase to the deep."

"Now shame upon thee, man of death!

I told thee that I cursed him not; And shall I dye my Christian faith With crimson taint, satanic blot? Far as the space from pole to pole Be murderous thought from Albert's soul! Nor shall such deed thy dwelling stain, O Mexican, nor foul thy hand, Till prayer, and faith, and zeal be vain, To pluck away one burning brand."

"I like thy heat; in this I view, Fool though thou be, thy tale is true; If false, thou hadst not crossed me yet: But, true or false, my steel is whet. There's candour on thy quiet brow, I neither doubt nor fear thee now. Proceed, a sheltering roof is nigh, And while my cares thy need supply, My lip shall link that blood-hound's name With the full record of his shame."

Then rising, with elastic tread, Through many a winding path he led, Free as the gamesome steed, whose mane Ne'er drooped beneath controuling rein;

And Albert, in the step of pride,

The form of lightness, mein of grace,
Might almost deem his youthful guide
A sylvan shape of fabled race.
Some twenty summer suns had shed
Their ripening fires on Izram's head;
His hue confessed the tawny glow,

Born of a fierce and fervid ray,
But pale and clear the polished brow,
Where ebon locks disordered stray:
And ever as impatiently

Aside their silken veil was thrown,
Beneath its curve the glancing eye,
Like lightning from the midnight sky,
In awful beauty shone.
Something there was that mutely told,
No vulgar stamp was graven here;
An impress cast in finer mould,

And nurtured in a gentler sphere, Than might beseem those captive plains, Crushed in Iberia's pond'rous chains.

Narrow and low the hut arose,

A summer bower for short repose,
Yet fenced around with thorn and stake,
From prowling foes that haunt the brake.
Roofed with the broad palmetto leaf,
That fan-like o'er the rafters spread,
And crested as a warrior chief,

Beneath its light and plumy head.
Amid the flower-wove lattice play
The quivering shade and stealing ray;
Floating on zephyr's liquid sigh,
A thousand dazzling forms are nigh,
That in the brilliant blaze unfold
Their gossamer besprent with gold.
There hums the insect bird, who gleams
Glorious as day's departing beams;
Beneath the proud papilio pressed,
The blossom bends its burdened crest;
He steps the flower, a conscious king,
Or fans the bud with gorgeous wing;
And not a breeze can hover nigh,
But teems with blended harmony;
As every leaf were vocal grown,
And breathed a descant all its own,
While bowed the palm with princely head,
And wide a guardian shadow spread.

A simple couch of fragrant leaves, In purple cased, each guest receives; And Izram from his secret hoard, Profusely heaps the bending board With all the tempting fruits that lie Mellowing beneath a genial sky; And while their tints commingling glowed, A juice nectareous sparkling flowed, In shells of cocoa, richly bound With hoops of burnished gold around.

With winning grace, in courtly guise, The Mexican his comrade plies; Selecting oft, with studious care, The choicest of their woodland fare; With mirthful thought, and sportive smile, Cheering their sweet repast the while.

"Inhale this cooling draught again; Methinks those whiskered Dons would drain The luscious stream with bolder swell; And if the goblet 'scaped, 'twere well." "Too tempting shines the glittering ore : What if their ken the scene explore?" Dark radiance flashed from Izram's eye, Lightly he touched his dagger's hilt, And smiled; perchance, in deeper dye, The rash intruder's hide were gilt, Ere his profaning touch should tear The meanest flower that blushes there."

"How freely in the mortal strife Thy hand can sport with human life! I would not ape thy deadly skill,

Purveyor to the yawning tomb; Nor hurl a spirit, reeking still

With crime, to its eternal doom."

"And yet, were wildest peril near,

No flincher thou: I've watched thine eye, And not a mist of earthly fear

Hath clouded that calm azure sky. By thy bold deed preserved, I long

To call thee friend: our years the same, If right I guess; in danger, wrong,

United; branded both with shame; Thou for thy Christian faith, and I For unsold truth and loyalty."

Gone was the hour of lightsome glee,
His brow grew stern with bitter thought,
That like a sullen wintry sea

In mystery and darkness wrought.
Still, as to quell the rising pain,
His lips the sparkling goblet drain;
His glance emits the gloomy fire
Of restless care and feverish ire.

Albert beheld, his gen'rous heart
In secret wept the exile's smart;
He shuddered o'er a soul so young,
By murderous hate to vengeance stung,
And yearned upon his thorny way
To pour the beam of gospel-day.
But Izram, on his couch reclined,
With graceful gesture half arose
His waving locks are flung behind,

His cheek with proud emotion glows, In measured phrase the accents ran, And thus the tale of wrong began.

"Know'st thou Chiapa's soil, where rise Wrecks of a glorious edifice? Offspring of kingly sires, who shone On Mexico's unconquered throne, Or, ranged upon her island shore, Purpled the lake with princely gore. Uprooted from their beauteous land,

Once more engraffed, and taught to thrive Beneath Las Casas' pitying hand,

Who bade the drooping bough revive, Till, like their own Vanilla, veiled

In mystery from the race accursed,
Again their weeping country hailed

Her royal stems, in secret nursed.
Even now, upon Chiapa's plain,
Our ancient arts in freedom reign:
The deathless wreath fair science gives,
Full many a young Cazique receives;
Known but to them whose dearest pride
Were to lie slaughtered near his side.
Not these the upstart race, who reign
By sufferance of the crafty foe,
Exalted from the base born train,

To specious power and gilded show;
But sons of those illustrious dead,
Who, each a warlike nation's head,

With royal banner wide unrolled, Twice fifty thousand warriors led To battle for the isle of gold.

"To boast were vain; I will not tell What streams in these blue channels swell; The deed may show :-no vulgar ire

Can feed so broad, so calm a flame,
Nor aught but princely hate aspire
To quarries of such noble game.
The deed shall show :-another night,
And vengeance waves her torch in light.

"Embosomed in a peaceful vale, There dwelt-but wherefore spin the tale ?" -A flush was on his frowning brow, And fast the hurried accents flow:"Tis nought to thee who trained my mind, The hater now of human kind,

I say but, of the hours I've known,
That once they were, and they are flown
Past, past-they come not if I would”—
He drained the cup, and then pursued.

"It was mid life's unfolding charm, When hopes are high, and hearts are warm, And young ambition, aiming wide, Would grasp the world to prop his pride, A guest, with wiles of Satan fraught, Chiapa's peaceful dwellings sought; A Jesuit, of Iberia's race,

Inquisitor, a monk of place,

With those who rule our free-born state,
Whose secret counsels may not pass
Beyond the threefold bolts of brass :
Some note of this had lately sped,
-Oppression will not lack its spies,
Nor tyranny forget to dread

The mustering tempest ere it rise.
Unwelcome rumors quickly flee,

The tidings Priest Anselmo heard, And when he spread the twig for me, Deemed he might lime a chattering bird. So, while his flatteries won my ken, And lured me to the Spanish den, My treason was the corner-stone He built his towering hopes upon. Izram a traitor!"-Then he laughed In bitterness, and freely quaffed :

"In furtherance of their sage design, The Spanish seers received me well, And, deep in learning's fruitful mine,

For me they ope'd the secret cell. I needs must laugh,-how, day by day, They laboured on the rugged way, And placed within my eager clasp Whate'er my spirit longed to grasp : No page of all their classic lore, But I had conned it o'er and o'er, And from the tomes of history torn New fuel for my burning scorn, Ere yet the purblind fools could dare To deem me wrapped within the snare. And still misgivings vexed their mind, A firmer tie the demons twined; O would my tongue had never moved To tell it! Albert, hast thou loved? -Enough, enough; that broken sigh, And mantling cheek, too well reply. It matters not; I will not bend My thought to such bewildering theme, My spurning soul hath learned to rend

The shreds of that deceitful dream; Nor could thy tranquil spirit pine In love so wild, so deep as mine.

The sorcerers hoped this potent spell
The patriot throb should lightly quell,
This master-passion in my breast,
Like Aaron's rod, engulf the rest;
If e'er their eyes His page explored,
Whom they in blasphemy adored.

"Now Gondolph joined the robber band, Who gnaw the vitals, wring the land.

Thou know'st, perchance, each plundering tool

Is licenced to a short-lived rule:

Three summers, decked in pomp and pride,
They rack our race, our treasure drain,
Then, wafted o'er th' indignant tide,

Disgorge the spoil in hungry Spain.
Long had this Gondolph ruled unseen
The movements of a vast machine;
The guerdon of his toils to glean,
He ploughed at length the azure deep ;-
Oh, by this sickle, bright and keen,
A plenteous harvest he shall reap!

"His was the crafty wile, that snared
The heedless Mexican to rove;
His wizard hand the spell prepared,
Of lofty lore, and witching love :
And blithely now the traitor came,
To light the pile with sulph'rous flame.
In courteous guise, with flattering word,
He led me to the festal board:
Trained to his beck, the servile throng
The revel and debauch prolong;
While he, with cool observance, sought
In cobweb coil to snare the thought;
Essayed the wine-cup freely plied-
To wake the slumbering chord of pride;
But all was vain, no word revealed
The charge in patriot honour sealed.
Baffled and chafed, the tiger scowled,
And hourly in my pathway prowled,
And oft in joyous scorn I threw
Some mocking hope before his view,
Till weary of the secret snare,

He laid his shameless purpose bear.

A life, with wealth and greatness crowned,
Ev'n to ambition's utmost bound,
This was the bribe; the threat was shame,
The taint of slander's foulest breath,

A curse attached to Izram's name
Among his race, and lingering death.

"I know not how my scorn might blaze; He quailed and shook beneath the gaze: And when, in proud indignant strain, I hurled the treason back on Spain, His lurking blood-hounds seized their prey, And bore me from the light of day, Chained with the felon crew, who pine Condemned within the deadliest mine.

Robber and murderer, side by side,
In groans and blood their labour plied-
Seest thou the scar those fetters wrought?
His look shall wither on the spot.

"Nor yet the crafty fox resigned That dream of his besotted mind; Still came the lure, the menace, still He thought to bend my stedfast will: He blighted my fair fame, and she,

Chord of my heart, its vital tide, Compelled to wed a vile Mestee,

Became the motley mongrel's bride.
Anselmo's self the tale conveyed,
And well his generous zeal I paid:
Too weak the cowl to guard his brain
From the fierce dash of severed chain;
And while they thronged around the dead,
Goaded by maddening thought, I sped
Until the distant glimmering ray
Pointed to liberty and day.

I found a faithful few :-the rest
Is doubly sealed within my breast;
I doubt not thee, but oaths confine
Those secrets to our ancient line:
Yet if thy British nerve can brave
The horrors of an outlaw's cave,
And if thy strength in peril tried,
Can boldly breast a swelling tide.
Soon shall thy gladdened sight survey
Gondolph, by counter-wiles betrayed,
Groaning his blackened soul away,

An offering to thy brother's shade."

"My brother's shade hath soared, to rest In the calm mansions of the blest; And there, at his Redeemer's throne,

He joins the rapturous song of praise,
To Him who hears the sinner's groan,
Jesus, whose pardoning love is shown

To ruined man's rebellious race.
And deem'st thou-if his spirit share
In aught of sublunary care-
My Ulric would not rather flee

On seraph wing to ward the blow, And plead, by Him who died for thee, "For mercy on a prostrate foe?"

"Forbear thy mockery, tongue of pride! For me that Saviour never died. Thou preaching friar forbear, and say, My proffered courtesy dost thou take, Till twice return the morning ray, With me thy fixed abode to make?"

"Aye, Izram, and to save thy soul The bitter fruit of deed so foul; My wrong is deep, far deeper thine,

But vengeance is the work of God:

O let thy hand this task resign,

Submit thee to the chastening rod. Revenge to carnal lip is sweet,

But kills the soul with poisonous breath; And thou impenitent, wilt meet The wages of eternal death." "Izram can neither pause nor fear;

His sin, if such the term, hath stored
The wrath of Heaven in long arrear,

And justice must unsheath the sword,
She still a deeper debt may owe-
But truce with this, the sun is low;
I pledge thee in a sweeter draught
Than yet thy thirsty lip hath quaffed;
Recline on yonder couch and steep
Thy feverish frame in cooling sleep:
Trust me, no cause for doubt or dread
While Izram watches nigh thy bed.
I love thy race-they never bore
A blood-stained trophy from my shore,
Save when the daring Buccaneer,

Scourge of the tyrants, hovered nigh,
And woke the Spaniard's startled ear,

With the fierce midnight battle-cry.
Thou dost not fear to speak me plain,
To cross me in my angry vein;

Nor dost thou shame to kneel and pray:"—
Shading his sight, he turned away,
And Albert, with unruffled breast,
Composed his weary limbs to rest.

CANTO II.

SWEET his repose, but strangely new
The waking scene; no lowly shed,
No waving forest caught his view;

A wide and vaulted cavern threw
Its mighty arch above his head.
A glimmering lamp in scanty flood
Dispersed its light, and Izram stood,
Folding his mantle round his breast,

Half veiled in the sepulchral gloom, With thoughtful brow, and head depressed, Viewing the couch of peaceful rest,

Like sculpture on a costly tomb. "Wak'st thou, my friend?" the pensive tone, That sorrow might have called her own, Low as the ring-dove's plaintive sound, By echoes caught, above, around, Rang through the caves, and died away In cadence like a funeral lay. "Izram! explain this magic spell."

"No magic, but the needful guile Of souls oppressed; I watched thee well,

And practised nought but friendly wile.

Here is my palace, this my throne,
A regal court, as thou shalt own,
When my assembled hoards bespeak
The treasury of a young Cazique."
Smiling, yet sad, he spoke, and drew
A drapery's heavy fold aside;
Broad gleams of distant radiance threw
A steady lustre far and wide.
"Arise, the sun is high and bright,
But never shot his living light
Within these vaults: dark as the fame
Of Mexico, they need the toil
Of secret hands to raise the flame,
And oft renew the wasting oil.
Above, oppression's shaft is hurled,

Below, the infant fires are nursed,

That should the struggling splendours burst, With blazing flag shall cow the world. Tyrants engross the sunny sky, Be ours the den and liberty!" With stately port, and echoing tread, Through the long widening vault he led; Passed a low arch, and dark alcove :— Where hath the spell our pilgrim borne ? Such wild illusion ne'er was wove

In the fantastic dream of morn.

They stood beneath a lofty dome, Meet for the fabled genii's home; The giant roof, bestud with spars, Shone as a host of distant stars. Here, crystal columns, shooting high, Dazzle and pain the blinking eye; There, glowing as with secret fire, Slight shafts of wreathing gold aspire. Framed by the fairest rules of art, From every secret nook they start; New treasures to the gaze unfold,Gold was the couch, the table gold; Wrought by the craftsman's cunning hand, In bright confusion, close array, Flagons, and bowls, and vases stand,

And on their burnished sides display The swelling fruit, or garland fair ;— The very least that glittered there Had been an ample bribe, to gain Some kingly suit from grasping Spain. Quiver and bow and breast-plate hung Standards and feathery tufts among; And sun-like orbs too well reveal The deadly dint of forceful steel: While pigmy plumes, of matchless dyes, Combined in graphic beauty, rise, Implanting in that rocky den The charms of mountain, mead, and glen.

Izram beneath his dark lash stole A glance, to read his comrade's soul.

"What say'st thou, Albert, can'st thou show

In thy fair isle so rich a throne?
Nay, answer not; full well I know
She calls one gloricus gem her own,
A jewel fraught with deathless rays,
Whose faintest sparkles far outblaze
Ten thousand gaudy scenes like this:
Freedom and faith-O dream of bliss ?"
He paused, and slowly raising up
From the bright board a costly cup,
Viewed it a while, then fiercely flung
On the firm floor that beaming gold;
Their peals the clamorous echoes rung,
While to the utmost side it rolled.
"I loathe the yellow dross, it hurled

My fathers from a lordly throne,
Ev'n as that bruised ore is whirled
Along the ruthless stone.
Metal accursed! my brethren pine,
Through thee, beneath an iron rod,
Deep in the pestilential mine,

O'er which their sires in glory trod.
Now could I dash from side to side
The fragments of this scenic pride;
But they have work to do, to sting,
Ev'n to his very inmost soul,
That Gondolph, that compounded thing

Of wile and avarice ;-we will toll
The death-knell on his shrinking ear,
Amid the splendid mockeries here:
Here, where his eye could never sate
With gazing, we will seal his fate;
And I, the fettered slave, who drew

A length of chain in pois'nous mine,
Will blight the tyrant's wildered view
In garb befitting regal line.
Thou, too, shalt glitter bright, in gems
Meet for Imperial diadems:
Weave diamonds in thy clustering hair,
Like stars on evening's folding wing,
And on thy very sandals bear

The ransom of an eastern king,"
"No gems for me."-" And wherefore thwart
Each purpose of my labouring heart?"—
"Nay, Izram, smooth thy brow, nor deem
I cross thy will in sullen mood;
But how shall rich array beseem,
Or brilliants pour their sparkling beam,
Amid the specks of kindred blood?
Scarce dry upon my conscious vest
The stream that welled from Ulric's breast;
Behold!"-" The hour of doom is near,
Let vengeance stay that bursting tear:
Fraternal love hath gemmed thy cheek

With drops to shame our Indian mine,
And Izram's heart perchance could speak
In tone as kindly and as meek

As ever woke the pulse of thine :
But I will drown that pleading breath