The Missionary - Canto Fourth Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis
Rhyme Scheme: AABBCDEEFFAGHHIIJJKK LLMMNNOOBBPPQQMMERJJ OONNMMMMMMNNJJSSTTHH TTTUUPPTTMMAGNNJJVVM MUUWXYYZZXXMMA2B2MMM MTTMMLC2D2E2F2F2UULG 2H2H2XXLG2H2H2I2I2HH MMMMAGMMMMMMMMJ2K2K2 XX L2 H2 H2 M2M2N2N2 H2 MM L2 J H2 M2M2N2N2 H2 J2K2K2XX L2 O2H2H2 H2 O2M2M2N2N2 HHHP2P2 H2 BBF2F2UUH2H2XXQ2R2XS 2| Far in the centre of the deepest wood | A |
| The assembled fathers of their country stood | A |
| 'Twas midnight now the pine wood fire burned red | B |
| And to the leaves a shadowy glimmer spread | B |
| The struggling smoke or flame with fitful glance | C |
| Obscured or showed some dreadful countenance | D |
| And every warrior as his club he reared | E |
| With larger shadow indistinct appeared | E |
| While more terrific his wild locks and mien | F |
| And fierce eye through the quivering smoke was seen | F |
| In sea wolf's skin here Mariantu stood | A |
| Gnashed his white teeth impatient and cried blood | G |
| His lofty brow with crimson feathers bound | H |
| Here brooding death the huge Ongolmo frowned | H |
| And like a giant of no earthly race | I |
| To his broad shoulders heaved his ponderous mace | I |
| With lifted hatchet as in act to fell | J |
| Here stood the young and ardent Teucapel | J |
| Like a lone cypress stately in decay | K |
| When time has worn its summer boughs away | K |
| And hung its trunk with moss and lichens sere | L |
| The Mountain warrior rested on his spear | L |
| And thus and at this hour a hundred chiefs | M |
| Chosen avengers of their country's griefs | M |
| Chiefs of the scattered tribes that roam the plain | N |
| That sweeps from Andes to the western main | N |
| Their country gods around the coiling smoke | O |
| With sacrifice and silent prayers invoke | O |
| For all at first were silent as the dead | B |
| The pine was heard to whisper o'er their head | B |
| So stood the stern assembly but apart | P |
| Wrapped in the spirit of his fearful art | P |
| Alone to hollow sounds of hideous hum | Q |
| The wizard seer struck his prophetic drum | Q |
| Silent they stood and watched with anxious eyes | M |
| What phantom shape might from the ground arise | M |
| No voices came no spectre form appeared | E |
| A hollow sound but not of winds was heard | R |
| Among the leaves and distant thunder low | J |
| Which seemed like moans of an expiring foe | J |
| His crimson feathers quivering in the smoke | O |
| Then with loud voice first Mariantu spoke | O |
| Hail we the omen Spirits of the slain | N |
| I hear your voices Mourn devoted Spain | N |
| Pale visaged tyrants still along our coasts | M |
| Shall we despairing mark your iron hosts | M |
| Spirits of our brave fathers curse the race | M |
| Who thus your name your memory disgrace | M |
| No though yon mountain's everlasting snows | M |
| In vain Almagro's toilsome march oppose | M |
| Though Atacama's long and wasteful plain | N |
| Be heaped with blackening carcases in vain | N |
| Though still fresh hosts those snowy summits scale | J |
| And scare the Llamas with their glittering mail | J |
| Though sullen castles lour along our shore | S |
| Though our polluted soil be drenched with gore | S |
| Insolent tyrants we prepared to die | T |
| Your arms your horses and your gods defy | T |
| He spoke the warriors stamped upon the ground | H |
| And tore the feathers that their foreheads bound | H |
| Insolent tyrants burst the general cry | T |
| We met for vengeance we prepared to die | T |
| Your arms your horses and your gods defy | T |
| Then Teucapel with warm emotion cried | U |
| This hatchet never yet in blood was dyed | U |
| May it be buried deep within my heart | P |
| If living from the conflict I depart | P |
| Till loud from shore to shore is heard one cry | T |
| See in their gore where the last tyrants lie | T |
| The Mountain warrior Oh that I could raise | M |
| The hatchet too as in my better days | M |
| When victor on Maypocha's banks I stood | A |
| And while the indignant river rolled in blood | G |
| And our swift arrows hissed like rushing rain | N |
| I cleft Almagro's iron helm in twain | N |
| My strength is well nigh gone years marked with woe | J |
| Have o'er me passed and bowed my spirit low | J |
| Alas I have no son Beloved boy | V |
| Thy father's last best hope his pride his joy | V |
| Oh hadst thou lived sole object of my prayers | M |
| To guard my waning life and these gray hairs | M |
| How bravely hadst thou now in manhood's pride | U |
| Swung the uplifted war club by my side | U |
| But the Great Spirit willed not Thou art gone | W |
| And weary on this earth I walk alone | X |
| Thankful if I may yield my latest breath | Y |
| And bless my country in the pangs of death | Y |
| With words deliberate and uplifted hand | Z |
| Mild to persuade yet dauntless to command | Z |
| Raising his hatchet high Caupolican | X |
| Surveyed the assembled chiefs and thus began | X |
| Friends fathers brothers dear and sacred names | M |
| Your stern resolve each ardent look proclaims | M |
| On then to conquest let one hope inspire | A2 |
| One spirit animate one vengeance fire | B2 |
| Who doubts the glorious issue To our foes | M |
| A tenfold strength and spirit we oppose | M |
| In them no god protects his mortal sons | M |
| Or speaks in thunder from their roaring guns | M |
| Nor come they children of the radiant sky | T |
| But like the wounded snake to writhe and die | T |
| Then rush resistless on their prostrate bands | M |
| Snatch the red lightning from their feeble hands | M |
| And swear to the great spirits hovering near | L |
| Who now this awful invocation hear | C2 |
| That we shall never see our household hearth | D2 |
| Till like the dust we sweep them from the earth | E2 |
| But vain our strength that idly in the fight | F2 |
| Tumultuous wastes its ineffectual might | F2 |
| Unless to one the hatchet we confide | U |
| Let one our numbers one our counsels guide | U |
| And lo for all that in this world is dear | L |
| I raise this hatchet raise it high and swear | G2 |
| Never again to lay it down till we | H2 |
| And all who love this injured land are free | H2 |
| At once the loud acclaim tumultuous ran | X |
| Our spears our life blood for Caupolican | X |
| With thee for all that in this world is dear | L |
| We lift our hatchets lift them high and swear | G2 |
| Never again to lay them down till we | H2 |
| And all who love this injured land are free | H2 |
| Then thus the chosen chief Bring forth the slave | I2 |
| And let the death dance recreate the brave | I2 |
| Two warriors led a Spanish captive bound | H |
| With thongs his eyes were fixed upon the ground | H |
| Dark cypresses the mournful spot inclose | M |
| High in the midst an ancient mound arose | M |
| Marked on each side with monumental stones | M |
| And white beneath with skulls and scattered bones | M |
| Four poniards on the mound encircling stood | A |
| With points erect dark with forgotten blood | G |
| Forthwith with louder voice the chief commands | M |
| Bring forth the lots unbind the captive's hands | M |
| Then north towards his country turn his face | M |
| And dig beneath his feet a narrow space | M |
| Caupolican uplifts his axe and cries | M |
| Gods of our land be yours this sacrifice | M |
| Now listen warriors and forthwith commands | M |
| To place the billets in the captive's hands | M |
| Soldier cast in the lot | J2 |
| With looks aghast | K2 |
| The captive in the trench a billet cast | K2 |
| Soldier declare who leads the arms of Spain | X |
| Where Santiago frowns upon the plain | X |
| - | |
| CAPTIVE | L2 |
| - | |
| Villagra | H2 |
| - | |
| WA RRIOR | H2 |
| - | |
| Earth upon the billet heap | M2 |
| So may a tyrant's heart be buried deep | M2 |
| The dark woods echoed to the long acclaim | N2 |
| Accursed be his nation and his name | N2 |
| - | |
| WARRIOR | H2 |
| - | |
| Captive declare who leads the Spanish bands | M |
| Where the proud fortress shades Coquimbo's sands | M |
| - | |
| CAPTIVE | L2 |
| - | |
| Ocampo | J |
| - | |
| WARR IOR | H2 |
| - | |
| Earth upon the billet heap | M2 |
| So may a tyrant's heart be buried deep | M2 |
| The dark woods echoed to the long acclaim | N2 |
| Accursed be his nation and his name | N2 |
| - | |
| WARRIOR | H2 |
| - | |
| Cast in the lot | J2 |
| Again with looks aghast | K2 |
| The captive in the trench a billet cast | K2 |
| Pronounce his name who here pollutes the plain | X |
| The leader of the mailed hosts of Spain | X |
| - | |
| CAPTIVE | L2 |
| - | |
| Valdivia | O2 |
| At that name a sudden cry | H2 |
| Burst forth and every lance was lifted high | H2 |
| - | |
| WARRIOR | H2 |
| - | |
| Valdivia | O2 |
| Earth upon the billet heap | M2 |
| So may a tyrant's heart be buried deep | M2 |
| The dark woods echoed to the long acclaim | N2 |
| Accursed be his nation and his name | N2 |
| - | |
| And now loud yells and whoops of death resound | H |
| The shuddering captive ghastly gazed around | H |
| When the huge war club smote him to the ground | H |
| Again deep stillness hushed the listening crowd | P2 |
| While the prophetic wizard sang aloud | P2 |
| - | |
| SONG TO THE GOD OF WAR | H2 |
| - | |
| By thy habitation dread | B |
| In the valley of the dead | B |
| Where no sun nor day nor night | F2 |
| Breaks the red and dusky light | F2 |
| By the grisly troops that ride | U |
| Of slaughtered Spaniards at thy side | U |
| Slaughtered by the Indian spear | H2 |
| Mighty Epananum hear | H2 |
| Hark the battle Hark the din | X |
| Now the deeds of Death begin | X |
| The Spaniards come in clouds above | Q2 |
| I hear their hoarse artillery move | R2 |
| Spirits of our fathers slain | X |
| Haste pursue the dog | S2 |
William Lisle Bowles
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