IX.
In vain they plead; their frenzied souls must hear
Their children’s plaintive moans, and powerless be
Their life to save or soothe their sad despair.
Yet, ere the westering sun had touched the sea,
While swelled their maddening wail, a long array
Of white-robed priests swept forth, who called them near
The holy Teocal, once more to pray;
Perchance e’en yet to sacrifice and prayer
Some sign from heaven might come, some hope their hearts to cheer.
X.
As when to sudden march, at Moses’ call,
A nation sprang—no faltering step delayed
Of age or sex; but forthwith great and small
Their homes forsook, and marched where’er he bade;
So these respond—tho’ hopeless and dismayed,
And stood in crowds the Teocal around,
Watching their priests, as up, with solemn tread,
Now hid, now seen, from side to side they wound,
Leading aloft to death their victims gaily crowned.
XI.
Sombre and vast, and midway to the clouds,
The pyramid upraised its towering head.
Ah! well the watchers know, when smoke enshrouds
That far-seen shrine, some quivering heart hath bled!
And well they know a shriek was heavenward sped,
That could not reach their ears so far below!
There, woe-begone, on trembling knees they prayed,
Till down returned the train with footsteps slow;
Their garments crimson-dyed, that went up white as snow.
