When love was the only impulsion,
Such a distance away from the Master
Whose name is the essence of loving;
But he sees the bare heart in its throbbing,
And the crystallized faith of my footsteps
That were only too quick in their choosing.
Surely, Love, the benificent Master,
Springing forth from the bosom of Mary,
To smother the earth with caresses,
Will drop a light hand on the shoulder
That shadows a heart that has wandered
By only its warm overflowing."
She loaded her mother with jewels,
And left not the shadow of malice
To stain the fair skirts of her mercy,
But canceled her wrongs with caresses,
And covered the past with forgiveness.
Thus she bore the whole soul of the Gospel
To the hungry hearts of her people;
And the heart is not hard to the sermon
That carries a life for its background
As perfectly pure as the precept.
The heathen is waiting the harvest--
Only hallowed hands for the sickle;
When the life and the lip move together
Millennium waits on the morning.
The trial that sometimes had shadowed
Comes at last in its fullness upon her,
And the pride of Cortez seeks another
For the place that is only Malinche's.
And he offers to Don Xamarillo
The tremulous hand of the maiden,
As if it was his to bestow her
As a chattel--a token of friendship--
On his friend and bosom companion.
The anger of love was upon her,
And all of her beauty shone brightest,
As she flashed on her recreant lover
The flaming scourge of her protest:
"I came as a slave to your camp-ground;
You lifted me out of my bondage,
For you knew I was free in my birthright.
You wooed me, and won me as lover,
And only as wife could have worn it;
I have drawn on your love as a garment.
You first sought me out as a sponsor,
But the language of Spain is a magnet
That drew me all out of Malinche
And made me a part of her Chieftain;
And now you would sunder the tendrils
And force back the vine from the branches
Where they learn't all of life in reclining,
And never can unlearn the lesson.
"O, Hernando, you know not Malinche!
If you think she can cherish another
In the heart she too willingly gave you;
Were you priest of the Aztec temple,
And should raise in your hand the itztli,
To open the breast of your victim;
My heart would leap out at your calling,
E're the word of your summons was spoken.
Ask me to anticipate Heaven,
And my life would be swift in its forfeit.
But to learn the love of another,
And to wean me from your caresses,
Is beyond the wisdom of granting.
The logic of love hath a limit,
Only God can re-tension our heart-strings.
"Oh, Hernando! my prince and my primate,
My husband on earth and in Heaven!
Let me cling to your feet as a hand-maid,
And wash with my tears, as another
Did moisten the feet of our Savior,
But drive me not hence from your presence.
I can never love Xamarillo--
He can fetter the hand of Malinche,
But her heart will go over the ocean
And will smite at your breast when you proffer
Your hand to some delicate Dona.
"Not alone is the voice of my pleading,
But an angel in Heaven confronts you;
The white wings of sweet Catalina,
Shall flutter the breath of your wooing:
You sent her too early to Heaven
To quiet the shade of her anguish.
Two wives--one on earth, one in Heaven--
Throw their _love_ and _your_ pride in the balance;
And another whose innocent glances
Should burn all the dross from your nature,
Your child is a witness against you;
God has sent him a pledge of my wifehood,
To nail the black lie of denying.
"Though no priest gave the mystical signet,
Surely God heard the vows that were spoken
When our hearts took their place at the wedding;
And who shall say nay to a union,
When Love gives our souls to each other?
God is Love, and no higher can speak it.
O, Hernando! be father and husband,
Be angel and saint to Malinche!
She kneels, as she would at God's altar,
To plead for the heart you have broken.
O, turn from your pride, and but touch it,
And it will bloom over with blessing,
And will hallow the hand that shall heal it!"
All in vain did she plead with the Chieftain;
His pride was the bane of his footsteps.
The angel of Love would have held him,
But the blood of old Spain was too purple,
And smothered her tender endeavor.
The grip of his purpose still held him,
And Malinche, now passive with anguish,
Was given to Don Xamarillo
With all the sanction of marriage.
He was kind, indulgent and loving,
And she was made wealthy by Cortez
Giving back the estate of her mother
And much of the wealth of the province,
As if he would purchase appeasement.
The Chieftain made lavish atonement,
As far as the world could atone her;
But her heart was impossible healing.
Though her charities gave her some solace,
And she strove with the earnest of pathos
To lose in the anguish of others
The shadow of self and of sorrow,
Yet she wended her way, broken-hearted;
And, as if like the spirit of Aztlan,
With the mark of perpetual sadness,
With the head bending over and brooding--
As groping her way to the sunset,
Peering out for the light that was passing
For ever and aye with the shadows--
She fell asleep with her people,
And an angel was born in Heaven.
And a guardian angel descended,
And gathered thy ashes, dead Aztlan!
And spread her white wings o'er the casket,
To wait for the sound of the trumpet
That called thee to life and to freedom.
It rode on the wing of the North Wind,
And shook the whole earth when it sounded.
And no plainer hozanna gave echo,
Than arose from thy halls, Montezuma,
When the shade of Malinche gave battle,
And the armies of Spain were dismembered,
As Mexitli arose from her ashes,
And a star was replanted in Heaven!
And now, in the dusk of the evening,
When lovers await at the casement,
The tokened response of their ladies,
When Chapultepec garlands her tablets
With the beautiful plumage of springtime,
And a thousand sprays of the sunlight
Give her walls all the charm of enchantment,
Malinche is seen through the shadows,
The unsummoned guest at each wedding;
The unspoken tryst of all lovers;
Wherever two hands are united,
The hand of a third presses o'er them.
The troth of two hearts is cemented
By the one that was cruelly broken.
No symbol of faith can be stronger,
Than "The love that is true as Malinche's."
And she watches the fate of the nation
With the jealous eye of a mother,--
A mother, whose voice more than others
Taught their lips the first lisp of the Gospel,
And tendered their steps toward Heaven.
A saint, at whose shrine they all gather
When the shadow of war hovers o'er them,
And the eagle swoops down from the mountain
To cover the snake with his talons.
And they pledge anew to the banner
That arose again with the nation,
When the three hundred years of their bondage
Forged their broken links into missiles
To drive Spain into the ocean.
Thus she holds the warm palm of her people
With a memory stronger than shadow,--
She lives; and the Spirit of Aztlan,
"The beautiful sphinx of the ages,"
With its foot at the threshold of empire,
And its hand on the pulse of the sunrise,
And its crown of all possible setting,
Has no brighter gem than Malinche.
* * * * *
Blest Mary! the mother of God,
And tenderest daughter of Heaven!
Thou, too, hast passed under the rod,
And with thy great sorrow hast striven!
Shall a child of misfortune e'er wait
On this side the Beautiful City,
When thy hand is the turn of the gate,
And thy voice hath the magic of pity?
No; the word shall be spoken ere thought,
And the prayer be granted ere spoken,
And the gate shall swing open unsought
To the heart that is bleeding and broken.
The devils that tore Magdalene
May gnash at the sorrow of others;
Since a pitying Christ uttered "peace,"
Mankind become sisters and brothers.
Our faith hangs not on the morrow,
But is instant and on the wing;
With the common signet of sorrow,
We pass to the court of the King.
THE HARP OF THE WEST.
Fair Clime of the sunset! more richly endowed
Than Hispan' the knightly, or Gallia the proud--
Where the lakes of old Scotia are lost in the maze
Of thy thousand that mirror their heavy fringed banks
Of mountain and crag, and the stateliest ranks
That ever stood sentinel-watch to the gaze
Of a sky bending closer, and breathing more near
Than the heart ever throbbed to the fall of a tear.
Though the soul be as barren as Gobi's bleak heath
And the spirit of song in the cold throes of death,
Can humanity throttle the play of the breeze
O'er the harp that old Nature unwittingly strung,
When the windows of Heaven wide open were flung,
For a thousand years to thy masterful trees?
Can the ear fail to hear, or the eye fail to see
Thy rich crown! thy sweet song! great Yo Semite?
Though the brow of Olympus be crowded with thrones,
And the cliffs of Parnassus resound with the tones
Of the Muses that sang at the foot of their god,
Not Apollo's great steeds, nor the flame of his car,
Nor Mars, with the terrible glitter of war,
Can dazzle the face of thy sun and thy sod,
Bright Star of the West! Thou art Empire's own idol,
The steed of the lightning, untamed to the bridle!
What is History's wreath but a record of death!
Time breathes on the tablet, it fades with his breath;
But Nature has written in language so strong
That Eternity's finger alone can displace,
And write its own letters to fill up the space.
Our castles are mountains--our history, long,--
So long that we simply write God on the page,
And leave other Nations to guess at our age.
Our song is the present; God fills up the past,
With his rock-written letters; a volume so vast
No hand may transcribe what He leaves as his own.
From Sinai we came with his prophet of old,
To the valley where glitters the altar of gold--
Shall we break, in our frenzy, the tables of stone?
No! the letters are fresh, and deep graven the hand.
Far too sacred our charge! As He writ, let them stand!
When these tablets of Nature shall yield to the brain,
And some bard shall interpret the words they contain,
What a song shall burst forth from the prison of thought!
As his hand shall pass over the magical strings,
And each chord at his touch into unison springs,
As the wing of his impulse is hastily caught,
No harp more divine in the turn of the earth
Shall throb to the measures of sorrow and mirth!
* * * * *
Transcriber's Notes.
Many stanzas do not end with any punctuation. As author's intent could
not be divined, this was retained.
At times, a continued quotation was given a new opening quotation mark
at the start of a new page. As, again, author's intent was not obvious
this was left as printed. Stanzas across pages were difficult to place.
Page vi, "underserved" changed to "undeserved" (to be an undeserved)
Page vi, period added at end of paragraph (all early historians.)
Page vii, "aborgines" changed to "aborigines" (superiors of the
aborigines)
Page vii, "occured" changed to "occurred" (occurred to me)
Page ix, "intolerence" changed to "intolerance" (intolerance and deceit)
Page ix, space added after comma (palliation, and)
Page 10, opening double quotation mark replaced single quotation mark
("Thus saith the Lord: 'O truant)
Page 10, opening double quotation mark replaced single quotation mark
("'I am the God, of whom)
Page 11, word "I" added to text to replace smudged text (I kissed the
clay to life)
Page 18, "deliverence" changed to "deliverance" (where can our
deliverance)
Page 21, "yonr" changed to "your" (into your hands)
Page 32, "warrent" changed to "warrant" (had no warrant)
Page 37, space added between words (is weighing)
Page 42, space added between words (clings to)
Page 59, "they" changed to "thy" (on thy face)
Page 60, space added after comma (ask, give)
Page 77, "recessess" changed to "recesses" (deep recesses of)
Page 81, "Ominpotence" changed to "Omnipotence" (Only Omnipotence, we)
Page 81, "dispair" changed to "despair" (us back despair)
Page 83, "fraticidal" changed to "fratricidal" (fall in fratricidal jar)
Page 86, "tribue" changed to "tribute" (brought their tribute to)
Page 89, "emanciapation" changed to "emancipation" (is emancipation:
Time)
Page 91, "pefectness" changed to "perfectness" (so much perfectness)
Page 104, "slowy" changed to "slowly" (learn as slowly)
Page 117, footnote, "sacrafice" changed to "sacrifice" (protest against
human sacrifice)
Page 118, "Quetzalcoalt" changed to "Quetzalcoatl" (Quetzalcoatl takes
back)
Page 118, "Nezahualcoyolt" changed to "Nezahualcoyotl" (great
Nezahualcoyotl did spurn)
Page 119, footnote, "Aztic" changed to "Aztec" (with the Aztec language)
Page 126, "yoeman" changed to "yeoman" (the hardy yeoman)
Page 132, "crusifix" changed to "crucifix" (no mumbled crucifix)
Page 133, "repentent" changed to "repentant" (its repentant ashes)
Page 133, "Bethleham" changed to "Bethlehem" (the star of Bethlehem)
Page 141, "veiw" changed to "view" (brought to view)
Page 156, "appeasment" changed to "appeasement" (now purchase
appeasement)
Page 164, "compainon" changed to "companion" (As companion and)
Page 168, "warned" changed to "warmed" (It warmed the cold)
Page 168, "radient" changed to "radiant" (the radiant beams)
Page 172, "anothers" changed to "another's" (arm in another's)
Page 175, "comfronts" changed to "confronts" (Heaven confronts you)
Page 179, "Tought" changed to "Taught" (Taught their lips)
Page 181, "statliest" changed to "stateliest" (the stateliest ranks)