65 



When through the world my boasted title rah, 



Tresia, the wife of grciit Caupolican ! 



Now, plung'd in misery from the heights of fame, 



My glories end in this detested shame, 



To see thee captive in a lonely spot, 



When death and honour might have been thy lot ? 



What now avail thy scenes of happier strife, 

 So dearly bought by many a nobler life^ 

 The wond'rous feats, that valour scarce believ'd, 

 By thee with hazard and with toil atchiev'd ? 

 Where are the vaunted fruits of thy command, 

 The laurels gather'd by this fetter'd hand ? 

 All sunk ! all turn'd to this abhorr'tl disgrace, 

 To live the slave of this ignoble race 1 

 Say, had thy soul no strength, thy hand no lance, 

 To triumph o'er the fickle pow'r of chance ? 

 Dost thou not knov/, that, to the Warrior's name, 

 A gallant exit gives immortal fame ? 



Behold the burthen which my breast contains, 

 Since of thy love no other pledge remains ! 

 Had'st thou in glory's arms resign'dthy breathy 

 We both had follow'd thee in joyous death : 

 Take, take thy son ! he was a tie most dear, 

 Which spotless love once made my heart revere ; 

 Take him ! — by generous pain, and wounded pride, 

 The currents of this fruitful breast are dried : 

 Rear him thyself, for thy gigantic frame. 

 To woman turn'd, a woman's charge may claim : 

 A mother's title I no more desire. 

 Or shameful children from a shameful sire ! 



As thus she spoke, with growing madness stung, 

 The tender nursling from her arms she flung 

 With savage fury, hast'ningfrom our sight, 

 While anguish scem'd to aid her rapid flight. 

 Vain were our efforts ; our indignant cries. 

 Nor gentle prayers, nor angry threats, suffice 

 To make her breast, where cruel frenzy burn'd, 

 Receive the little innocent she spurn'd. 



The Spaniards, after providing a nurse for this unfortunate child, 

 return with their prisoner Caupolican to their fort, which they 

 enter in triumph. 



