49 



Thro' all the fort there reign 'd a calm profcund ; 

 In wine and slumber all its force was drown'd. 



The Spanish Chief, who saw the fav'ring hour, 

 Led on by slow degrees his silent power. 

 No Indian eye perceiv'd his near advance ; 

 Fate seera'dto bind them in a cruel trance ; 

 Each in sound slumber draws his easy breath, 

 Nor feels his slumber will be clos'd by Death. 

 So blind are mortals to that tyrant's sway, 

 They deem him distant, while they sink his prey. 



Our eager soldiers now no longer halt. 

 While kind occasion prompts the keen assault ; 

 A shout they raise, terrifick, loud, and long, 

 Swell'd by the voice of all the ardent throng ; 

 Whose ranks, obedient to their Leader's call. 

 Rush with light ardour o'er th' unguarded wall, 

 And gain the fort, where Sleep's oppressive weight 

 Exposed his wretched victims, blind to fate. 



As villians, conscious of their life impure, 

 Find in their guilty course no spot secure ; 

 (For vice is ever doom'd new fears to feel, 

 And tremble at each turn of Fortune's wheel) 

 At every noise, at each alarm that stirs. 

 Death's penal horror to their mind occurs ; 

 Quick to their arms they fly with wild dismay, 

 And rush where hasty terror points the way : 

 So quick the Indians to the tumult came. 

 With sleep and valour struggling in their frame, 

 Unaw'd by danger's unexpected sight. 

 They rouse their fellows, and they rush to fight. 

 Tho' their brave bosoms arc of armour bare, 

 Tlieir manly hearts their martial rage declare. 

 No furious odds their gallant souls appall, 

 But resolute they fly to guard the wall. 



It was the season when, with tender care, 

 Lautaro reason'd with his anxious Fair ; 

 Carest, consol'd, and, in his anger kind, 

 Mildly i-eprov'd her weak mistrusting mind. 

 Spite of his cheering voice she trembles still ; 

 Severer terrors now her bosoin fill : 

 For sterner sounds their soft debate o'ercome, 

 Drown'd in the rattle of th' alarming drum. 

 Vol. II. G 



