enmity to the Christians, and leader of three thousand vassals; Angol, 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, Gualemo, and Lebopia, with three thousand each; Elicura, distinguished by strength of body and detestation of servitude, with six thousand; and the ancient Colocolo, with a superior number: Ongolmo, 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 Christians, dispatches six thousand of his retainers to the assembly; the most distinguished of his party are Thome and Andalican. The lord of the maritime province of Pilmayquen, the bold Caupolican, is also unable to appear at the opening of the council.

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The valley where they met for their consultations is thus described by Ercilla, who probably had seen it :—

In an umbrageous vale the seniors meet,
Embosomed 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;

And to the limpid stream that purls below
The rising gales in solemn concert blow.
Here in a sylvan theater, they find

An ample space, where all their tribes combined
Could meet at large to banquet, or debate
In graver mood the business of the State.
Th' assembling clans within this bowery scene
Repose, where scarce a fiery shaft between
From Phoebus can descend, so close above
The hand of Summer weaves the solemn grove.

As they begin their business in the style of the ancient Germans, with a plentiful banquet, they soon grow exasperated with liquor, and a violent quarrel ensues concerning the command of the forces for the projected war, an honor which almost every chieftain is arrogant enough to challenge for himself. In the midst of this turbulent debate, the ancient Colocolo delivers the following harangue, which Voltaire prefers to the speech of Nestor, on a similar occasion, in the first Iliad :

"Assembled Chiefs! ye guardians of the land! Think not I mourn from thirst of lost command, To find your rival spirits thus pursue

A post of honor which I deem my due.

These marks of age, you see, such thoughts disown
In me, departing for the world unknown;

But my warm love, which ye have long possest,
Now prompts that counsel which you'll find the best.
Why should we now for marks of glory jar?
Why wish to spread our martial name afar?
Crushed as we are by Fortune's cruel stroke,
And bent beneath an ignominious yoke,

Ill can our minds such noble pride maintain,
While the fierce Spaniard holds our galling chain.
Your generous fury here ye vainly show;
Ah! rather pour it on th' embattled foe!
What frenzy has your souls of sense bereaved?
Ye rush to self-perdition, unperceived.

'Gainst your own vitals would ye lift those hands,
Whose vigor ought to burst oppression's bands?
"If a desire of death this rage create,

O die not yet in this disgraceful state!

Turn your keen arms, and this indignant flame,
Against the breast of those who sink your fame,
Who made the world a witness of your shame.
Haste ye to cast these hated bonds away,
In this the vigor of your souls display;
Nor blindly lavish, from your country's veins,
Blood that may yet redeem her from her chains.
"E'en while I thus lament, I will still admire
The fervor of your souls; they give me fire:
But justly trembling at their fatal bent,
I dread some dire calamitous event;
Lest in your rage Dissension's frantic hand
Should cut the sinews of our native land.
If such its doom, my thread of being burst,

And let your old compeer expire the first!

Shall this shrunk frame, thus bowed by age's weight,

Live the weak witness of a nation's fate?

No: let some friendly sword, with kind relief,
Forbid its sinking in that scene of grief.

Happy whose eyes in timely darkness close,

Saved from that worst of sights, his country's woes! Yet, while I can, I make your weal my care,

And for the public good my thoughts declare.

"Equal ye are in courage and in worth;
Heaven has assigned to all an equal birth:
In wealth, in power, and majesty of soul,
Each Chief seems worthy of the world's control.
These gracious gifts, not gratefully beheld,
To this dire strife your daring minds impelled.
"But on your generous valor I depend,
That all our country's woes will swiftly end.
A Leader still our present state demands,
To guide to vengeance our impatient bands;
Fit for this hardy task that Chief I deem,
Who longest may sustain a massive beam:
Your rank is equal, let your force be tried

And for the strongest let his strength decide."

The chieftains acquiesce in this proposal. The beam is produced, and of a size so enormous that the poet declares himself afraid to specify its weight. The first chieftains who engage in the trial support it on their shoulders five and six hours each; Tucapel fourteen; and Lincoya more than double that number, when the assembly, considering his strength as almost supernatural, is eager to bestow on him the title of general but in the moment he is exulting in this new honor, Caupolican arrives without attendants.

Though from his birth one darkened eye he drew
(The viewless orb was of the granite's hue),
Nature, who partly robbed him of his sight,
Repaid this failure by redoubled might.
This noble youth was of the highest state;
His actions honored, and his words of weight:
Prompt and resolved in every generous cause,
A friend to Justice and her sternest laws:
Fashioned for sudden feats, or toils of length,
His limbs possessed both suppleness and strength:
Dauntless his mind, determined and adroit
In every quick and hazardous exploit.

This accomplished chieftain is received with great joy by the assembly; and having surpassed Lincoya by many degrees in the trial, is invested with the supreme command. He dispatches a small party to attack a neighboring Spanish fort: they execute his orders, and make a vigorous assault. After a sharp conflict they are repulsed; but in the moment of their

retreat Caupolican arrives with his army to their support. The Spaniards in despair evacuate the fort, and make their escape in the night the news is brought to Valdivia, the Spanish commander in the city of Conception; and with his resolution to punish the barbarians the canto concludes.

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CANTO XXXII.

After a panegyric on clemency, and a noble censure of those enormous cruelties by which his countrymen sullied their military fame, the poet relates the dreadful carnage which ensued as the Indians approached the fort. The Spaniards, after destroying numbers by their artillery, send forth a party of horse, who cut the fugitives to pieces. They inhumanly murder thirteen of their most distinguished prisoners, by blowing them from the mouths of cannon: but none of the confederate chieftains whom the poet has particularly celebrated were included in this number; for those high-spirited barbarians had refused to attend Caupolican in this assault, as they considered it disgraceful to attack their enemies by surprise. The unfortunate Indian leader, seeing his forces thus unexpectedly massacred, escapes with ten faithful followers, and wanders through the country in the most calamitous condition. The Spaniards endeavor, by all the means they can devise, to discover his retreat the faithful inhabitants of Arauco refuse to betray him.

Ercilla, in searching the country with a small party, finds a young wounded female. She informs him that, marching with her husband, she had the misfortune of seeing him perish in the late slaughter; that a friendly soldier, in pity for her extreme distress, had tried to end her miserable life in the midst of the confusion, but had failed in his generous design, by giving her an ineffectual wound; that she had been removed from the field of battle to that sequestered spot, where she languished in the hourly hope of death, which she now implores from the hand of Ercilla. Our poet consoles her, dresses her wound, and leaves one of his attendants to protect her.

CANTO XXXIII.

One of the prisoners whom the Spaniards had taken in their search after Caupolican is at last tempted by bribes to

betray his general. He conducts the Spaniards to a spot near the sequestered retreat of this unfortunate chief, and directs. them how to discover it; but he refuses to advance with them, overcome by his dread of the hero whom he is tempted to betray. The Spaniards surround the house in which the chieftain had taken refuge with his ten faithful associates. Alarmed by a sentinel, he prepares for defense; but being soon wounded in the arm, surrenders, endeavoring to conceal his high character, and to make the Spaniards believe him an ordinary soldier.

With their accustomed shouts, and greedy toil,
Our furious troops now riot in their spoil;
Through the lone village their quick rapine spread,
Nor leave unpillaged e'en a single shed:
When from a tent, that placed on safer ground,
The neighboring hill's uncultured summit crowned,
A woman rushed, who, in her hasty flight,

Ran through the roughest paths along the rocky height.
A Negro of our train, who marked her way,
Soon made the hapless fugitive his prey;
For thwarting crags her doubtful steps impede,
And the fair form was ill prepared for speed;
For at her breast she bore her huddled son;
To fifteen months the infant's life had run:
From our brave captive sprung the blooming boy,
Of both his parents the chief pride and joy.
The Negro carelessly his victim brought,
Nor knew th' important prize his haste had caught.
Our soldiers now, to catch the cooling tide,
Had sallied to the murmuring river's side:
When the unhappy Wife beheld her Lord,
His strong arms bound with a disgraceful cord,
Stript of each ensign of his past command,
And led the pris'ner of our shouting band;
Her anguish burst not into vain complaint,
No female terrors her firm soul attaint;
But, breathing fierce disdain, and anger wild,
Thus she exclaimed, advancing with her child:
"The stronger arm that in this shameful band
Has tied thy weak effeminated hand,
Had nobler pity to thy state exprest
If it had bravely pierced that coward breast.
Wert thou the Warrior whose heroic worth
So swiftly flew around the spacious earth,