Thick the darts, the arrows fly; 'Cease the strife! alas, 'tis vain! Bid the captive youths expire † ; • Cortes, in his retreat from Mexico, after the death of Motezuma, was followed and surrounded by the whole collective force of the empire, in the plains of Otumba. After repelling the attacks of his enemies on every side, with indefatigable valour, he found himself overpowered by numbers; when, making one desperate effort, with a few select friends, he seized the imperial standard, killed the general, and routed the army. + De Solis relates, that the Mexicans sacrificed to their idols a number of Spaniards whom they had taken prisoners, and whose cries and groans were distinctly heard in the Spanish camp, exciting sentiments of horror and revenge in their surviving companions. Wake the sacred trumpet's breath, Here they yield, and there they die. Lo! the dauntless band return, See thy priests, thy princes thrown- *The above author observes, that the sacred trumpet of the Mexicans was so called because it was not permitted to any but the priests to sound it; and that only when they de nounced war, and animated the people on the part of their gods. + When the Spaniards had forced their way to the centre of Mexico, Guatimozin, the reigning emperor, endeavoured to escape in his canoes across the Lake; but was pursued and taken prisoner by Garcia de Holguin, captain of one of the Spanish brigantines. Otomèca shares thy spoils, 'Cease your boast, O stranger band, Ceased the voice with dreadful sounds, Their course the' Iberians downward bore; SCOTT. The Otomies were a fierce, savage nation, never thoroughly subdued by the Mexicans. Tlascala was a powerful neighbouring republic, the rival of Mexico. + Alluding to the dissensions which ensued among the Spa niards after the conquest of America. A MELOLOGUE*. (STRAIN OF MUSIC.) THERE breathes the language known and felt That language of the soul is felt and known. Where oft, of old, on some high tower, The soft Peruvian pour'd his midnight strains, And call'd his distant love with such sweet power That when she heard the well known lay, Not worlds could keep her from his arms away; To those bleak realms of polar night, Where the youth of Lapland's sky Bids his rapid reindeer fly, And sings along the darkling waste of snow. Of vernal Phoebus burn'd upon his brow; Is still resistless, still the same; And faithful as the mighty sea To the pole star that o'er its realm presides, Of human passion rise and fall from thee. (GREEK AIR.) List! 'tis a Grecian maid that sings Recited by the author, at the Kilkenny Theatre, in 1810. The performers were gentlemen of the neighbouring country; and the profits were given to the charitable institutions of Kilkenny. She draws the cool lymph in her graceful urn, While, by her side, in Music's charm dissolving, Some patriot youth the glorious past revolving, Dreams of bright days that never can return; When Athens nursed her olive bough With hands by tyrant power unchain'd, And braided for the Muse's brow A wreath by tyrant touch unstain'd; When heroes trod each classic field, Where coward feet now faintly falter, And every arm was Freedom's shield, And every heart was Freedom's altar. (GREEK AIR INTERRUPTED BY A TRUMPET.) Hark! 'tis the sound that charms The war-steed's wakening ears— Oh! many a mother folds her arms [hears; Round her boy-soldier when that sound she And, though her fond heart sinks with fears, Is proud to see his young pulse bound With valour's fever at the sound. See from his native hills afar The rude Helvetian flies to war, A conqueror oft, a hero never; Yet lavish of his lifeblood still As if 'twere like his mountain rill, And gush'd for ever! (RANZ DES VACHES.) Oh Music! here, even here Thy soul-felt charm asserts its wondrous power. There is an air, which oft among the rocks |