Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, CHIMALPOA; A MONODRAMA - FOUNDED ON AN EVENT IN THE MEXICAN HISTORY, by ROBERT SOUTHEY



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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

CHIMALPOA; A MONODRAMA - FOUNDED ON AN EVENT IN THE MEXICAN HISTORY, by                 Poet Analysis     Poet's Biography
First Line: Subjects! Friends! Children! I may call you my children
Last Line: Perform your office!
Subject(s): Courts & Courtiers; Death; Duty; History; Mexico; Public Worship; Sacrifices; Dead, The; Historians; Church Attendance


Scene, the Temple of Mexitli.

SUBJECTS! friends! children! I may call you children
For I have ever borne a father's love
Towards you; it is thirteen years since first
You saw me in the robes of royalty,
Since here the multitudes of Mexico
Hail'd me their king. I thank you friends that now
In equal numbers and with equal love
You come to grace my death.
For thirteen years
What I have been, ye know: that with all care,
That with all justice and all gentleness
Seeking your weal I govern'd. Is there one
Whom I have injured ? one whose just redress
I have denied, or baffled by delay?
Let him come forth, that so no evil tongue
Speak shame of me hereafter. O my people,
Not by my deeds have I drawn down upon me
The wrath of heaven.
The wrath is heavy on me!
Heavy! a burthen more than I can bear!
I have endured contempt, insult and wrongs
From that Acolhuan tyrant! should I seek
Revenge? alas, my people, we are few,
Feeble our growing state! it hath not yet
Rooted itself to bear the hurricane;
It is the lion-cub that tempts not yet
The tiger's full-aged fury. Mexicans,
He sent to bid me wear a woman's robe;—
When was the day that ever I look'd back
In battle? Mexicans, the wife I loved,
To faith and friendship trusted, in despite
Of me, of heaven, he seized, and spurned her back
Polluted!—coward villain! and he lurks
Behind his armies and his multitudes,
And mocks my idle wrath!—it is not fit
It is not possible that I should live!
Live! and deserve to be the finger-mark
Of slave-contempt! his blood I cannot reach,
But in my own all stains shall be effaced,
It shall blot out the marks of infamy,
And when the warriors of the days to come
Shall speak of Chimalpoca, they shall say
He died the brave man's death!
Not of the god
Unworthy, do I seek his altar thus,
A voluntary victim. And perchance
The sacrifice of life may profit you,
My people, though all living efforts fail'd
By fortune, not by fault.
Cease your lament!
And if your ill-doomed king deserved your love,
Say of him to your children, "he was one
Who bravely bore misfortune; who when life
Became dishonour, shook his body off,
And join'd the spirits of the heroes dead."
Yes! not in Miclanteuctli's dark abode
With cowards shall your king receive his doom;
Not in the icy caverns of the north
Suffer through endless ages! he shall join
The spirits of the brave, with them at morn
Shall issue from the eastern gate of heaven,
And follow through his fields of light the sun,
With them shall raise the song and weave the dance,
Sport in the stream of splendour, company
Down to the western palace of his rest
The prince of glory, and with equal eye
Endure his centered radiance. Not of you
Forgetful, O my people, even then,
But often in the amber cloud of noon
Diffused, will I o'erspread your summer fields,
And on the freshened maize and brightening meads
Shower plenty.
Spirits of my valiant sires,
I come! Mexitli, never at thy shrine
Flow'd braver blood! never a nobler heart
Steam'd up its life to thee! priests of the god,
Perform your office!





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