7 



'Ko pay, no promise of reward, they ask, 

 Keen to accomplish their spontaneous task ; 

 And, by the force of one avenging blow. 

 Crush and annihilate their foreign foe. 

 Of some brave Chiefs, who to this council came, 

 Well may'st thou. Memory, preserve the name ; 

 Tho' rude and savage, yet of noble soul, 

 Justly they claim their place on Glory's roll, 

 Who robbing Spain of many a gallant son, 

 In so confin'd a space such victories won ; ' 

 Whose fame some living Spaniards yet may spread, 

 Too well attested by our warlike dead. 



The Poet proceeds to mention the principal Chieftains, and the 

 number of their respective vassals. 



Tucapel stands first ; renowned for the most inveterate enmity 

 to the Christians, and leader of three thousand vassals ; An gol, a 

 valiant youth, attended by four thousand: Cayocupil, with three; 

 and Millarapue, an elder chief, with five thousand : Paycabi, with 

 three thousand ; and Lemolemo, with six : Maregnano, Gualèmo, 

 andLebopia, with three thousand each : Elicura, distinguished by 

 strength of body and detestation of servitude, with six thousand ; 

 and the ancient Colocólo, with a superior number : Ongolmc, 

 with four thousand ; and Puren, with six : the fierce and gigantic 

 Lincoya with a still larger train. Peteguelen, Lord of the valley 

 of Arauco, prevented from personal attendance by the Christiana, 

 dispatches six thousand of his retainers to the asssembly ; the most 

 distinguished of his party are Thomè and Andalican. The Lord 

 of the maritime province of Pilmayquen, the bold Caupolican, is 

 also unable to appear at the opening of the council. 



The valley where they met for their consultations is thus de- 

 scribed by Alonzo, w ho probably had seen it : 



In an umbrageous vale the seniors meet, 

 Embosom 'd deep in woods, a cool retreat. 

 Where gentle Flora sheds her annual blooms, 

 And with her fragrant scents the air perfumes. 

 The sweet perfumes the Zephyrs waft away. 

 Deep whispering through the groves in wanton play j 

 And to the limpid stream that purls below 

 The rising gales in solemn concert blow. 



