48 



This fair Barbarian, free from Christian ties, 

 A noble proof of perfect love supplies. 

 By kindest words, and floods of tears that roll 

 From the clear source of her impassion*d soul. 



The cheering ardor of the dauntless Chief 

 Fails to afford her troubled mind relief ; 

 Nor can the ample trench and guarded wall 

 Preserve her doubtful heart from fear's enthrall : 

 Her terrors, rushing with love's mighty force, 

 Level whatever would impede their course. 

 She finds no shelter from her cruel doom, 

 Save the dear refuge of Lautaro's tomb. 



Thus their two hearts, where equal passion reign'd, 

 A fond debate with tender strife maintain'd ; 

 Their differing words alike their love display, 

 Feed the sweet poison, and augment its sway. 



The sleepy soldiers now their stories close. 

 And stretch'd around their sinking fires repose. 

 The path in front with centinels was lin'd. 

 And the high mountain was their guard behind ; 

 But o'er that mountain, with advent'rous tread, 

 Bold Vinagran his silent forces led. 

 His hasty march with painful toil he made ; 

 Toil is the price that must for fame be paid. 

 Now near the fort, and halting in its sight, 

 He waits the coming aid of clearer light. 

 The stars yet shining, but their fires decay, 

 And now the reddening East proclaims the day, 

 Th' advancing troop no Indian eye alarms, 

 For friendly darkness hover'd o'er their arms ; 

 And on the quarter where the mountain rose, ' 

 The careless guard despis'd the thought of foes. 

 No panting horse their still approach betray'd ; 

 Propitious Fortune lent the Spaniards aid ; 

 Fortune, who oft bids drowsy sloth beware, 

 And lulls to sleep the watchful eye of Care. 



When Night's obscure dominion first declines, 

 And glimmering light the dusky air refines, 

 * The weary guards, who round the wall were plac*d, 



Hail the new day, and from their station haste ; 

 Secure of ill, no longer watch they keep, 

 Quick to forget their nightly toils in sleep : 



