BEFORE CORTEZ CAME!
Joaquin Miller
ut see! The day-king hurls a dart - At darkness, and his cold black heart
- Is pierced; and now, compell'd to flee,
- Flies bleeding to the hollow'd sea.
- And now, behold, she radiant stands,
- And lifts her round brown jewell'd hands
- Unto the broad, unfolding sun,
- And hails him Tonatiu and King
- With hallow'd mien and holy prayer.
- Her fingers o er some symbols run,
- Her knees are bow'd in worshipping
- Her God, beheld when thine is not,
- In form of faith long, long forgot.
- Again she lifts her brown arms bare,
- Far flashing in their bands of gold
- And precious stones, rare, rich, and old.
- Was ever mortal half so fair?
- Was ever such a wealth of hair?
- Was ever such a plaintive air?
- Was ever such a sweet despair?
- Still humbler now her form she bends;
- Still higher now the flame ascends:
- She bares her bosom to the sun.
- Again her jewell'd fingers run
- In signs and sacred form and prayer.
- She bows with awe and holy air
- In lowly worship to the sun;
- Then rising calls her lover's name,
- And leaps into the leaping flame.
- I do not hear the faintest moan,
- Or sound, or syllable, or tone.
- The red flames stoop a moment down,
- As if to raise her from the ground;
- They whirl, they swirl, they sweep around
- With lightning feet and fiery crown;
- Then stand up, tall, tip-toed, as one
- Would hand a soul up to the sun.