Selections from the American poets / by William Cullen Bryant [electronic text]

SLEEP OF PAPANTZIN.

'TWAS then, one eve, when o'er the imperial lake And all its cities, glittering in their pomp, The lord of glory threw his parting smiles, In Tlatelolco's palace, in her bower, Papantzin lay reclined; sister of him At whose name monarchs trembled. Yielding there To musings various, o'er her senses crept Or sleep or kindred death.

It seemed she stood In an illimitable plain, that stretched Its desert continuity around, Upon the o'erwearied sight; in contrast strange With that rich vale, where only she had dwelt, Whose everlasting mountains, girdling it, As in a chalice held a kingdom's wealth; Their summits freezing, where the eagle tired, But found no resting-place. Papantzin looked On endless barrenness, and walked perplexed Through the dull haze, along the boundless heath,

Like some lone ghost in Mictlan's cheerless gloom Debarred from light and glory.

Wandering thus, She came where a great sullen river poured Its turbid waters with a rushing sound Of painful moans; as if the inky waves Were hastening still on their complaining course To escape the horrid solitudes. Beyond What seemed a highway ran, with branching paths Innumerous. This to gain, she sought to plunge Straight in the troubled stream. For well she knew To shun with agile limbs the current's force, Nor feared the noise of waters. She had played From infancy in her fair native lake, Amid the gay plumed creatures floating round, Wheeling for diving, with their changeful hues, As fearless and as innocent as they.

A vision stayed her purpose. By her side Stood a bright youth; and startling, as she gazed On his effulgence, every sense was bound In pleasing awe and in fond reverence. For not Tezcatlipoca, as he shone Upon her priest-led fancy, when from heaven By filmy thread sustained he came to earth, In his resplendent mail reflecting all Its images, with dazzling portraiture, Was, in his radiance and immortal youth, A peer to this new god. His stature was Like that of men; but matched with his, the port Of kings tall dreaded was the crouching mien Of suppliants at their feet. Serene the light That floated round him, as the lineaments It cased with its mild glory. Gravely sweet The impression of his features, which to scan Their lofty loveliness forbade: his eyes She felt, but saw not: only, on his brow— From over which, encircled by what seemed

A ring of liquid diamond, in pure light Revolving ever, backward flowed his locks In buoyant, waving clusters—on his brow She marked a CROSS described; and lowly bent, She knew not wherefore, to the sacred sign. From either shoulder mantled o'er his front Wings dropping feathery silver; and his robe Snow-white in the still air was motionless, As that of chiselled god, or the pale shroud Of some fear-conjured ghost.

Her hand he took, And led her passive o'er the naked banks Of that black stream, still murmuring angrily. But, as he spoke, she heard its moans no more; His voice seemed sweeter than the hymnings raised By brave and gentle souls in Paradise, To celebrate the outgoing of the sun On his majestic progress over heaven. "Stay, princess," thus he spoke, "thou mayst not yet O'erpass these waters. Though thou knowest it not Nor Him, God loves thee." So he led her on, Unfainting, amid hideous sights and sounds; For now, o'er scattered sculls and grisly bones They walked; while underneath, before, behind, Rise dolorous wails and groans protracted long, Sobs of deep anguish, screams of agony, And melancholy sighs, and the fierce yell Of hopeless and intolerable pain.

Shuddering, as, in the gloomy whirlwind's pause Through the malign, distempered atmosphere, The second circle's purple blackness, passed The pitying Florentine, who saw the shades Of poor Francesca and her paramour; The princess o'er the ghastly relics stepped, Listening the frightful clamour; till a gleam, Whose sickly and phosphoric lustre seemed Kindled from these decaying bones, lit up

The sable river. Then a pageant came Over its obscure tides, of stately barks, Gigantic, with their prows of quaint device, Tall masts, and ghostly canvass, huge and high, Hung in the unnatural light and lifeless air. Grim bearded men, with stern and angry looks, Strange robes, and uncouth armour, stood behind Their galleries and bulwarks. One ship bore A broad sheet pendant, where, inwrought with gold, She marked the symbol that adorned the brow Of her mysterious guide. Down the dark stream Swept on the spectral fleet, in the false light Flickering and fading. Louder then uprose The roar of voices from the accursed strand.