17 



Onward they rush'd, impetuous in their course, 

 And scarce created might could stand their force. 

 Slowly the Araucanians first retreat, 

 But soon in squadrons turn, and trust their feet. 

 " Triumph to Spain !" the conquering legions cry ; 

 " Triumph to Spain !" the neighb'ring vales reply ; 

 But dire mischance, or Fate's resistless sway, 

 Gave a dread sequel to this signal day. 



An Indian Chieftain's son, in arms renown'd, 

 To great Valdivia by allegiance bound, 

 For many an instance of paternal care, 

 Follow'd his patron to the field of war ; 

 But when he saw his friends resign the field. 

 Commotion strange his looks and words reveal'd ; 

 And as they fled, pursued by wild alarms, 

 He thus recali'd their broken bands to arms: 



" O blind to glory, wliither would ye run, 

 Where do you think impending fate to shun ? 

 And is it thus your ancient fame expires, 

 The Sage's honour, and the Patriot's fires? 

 Are all your laws and rights for ever lost. 

 Your fathers' freedom, and your country's boast ? 

 Once ye were independent, feai-'d, and bold, 

 Kow, for degrading bonds your claims are sold. 

 The vigour of your ancient stem decays. 

 Each drooping bough a latent plague betrays ; 

 That, deep within, its vernal sap consumes, 

 And withering blights invade its tarnish'd blooms, 

 Behold the wasted vigour of your foe ! 

 See, bath'd in sweat and blood, their coursers blow ! 

 Lose not your mental force, your martial fires, 

 Our best inheritance from generous sires ; 

 Sink not the noble Araucanian name 

 From glory's summit to the depths of sliame ; 

 Fly, fly the servitude your souls detest ! 

 To the keen sword «ppose the dauntless breast. 

 Why show ye frames endued with manly powci-. 

 Yet shrink from danger in the trying liour ? 

 Fix in your minds the friendly truth I speak ; ' 

 Vain are your fears, your terror blind and weak : 

 Now make your names immortal ; now restore 

 Freedom's lost blessings to your native shure : 



Vol. II. c 



