on drew its passing line.
Last rolled the heavy guns, a sable tier,
By Indians drawn, with matchmen in the rear;
And many a straggling mule and sumpter-train
Closed the embattled order on the plain,
Till nought beneath the azure sky appears
But the projecting points of scarce-discovered spears,
Slow up the hill, with floating vapours hoar, 140
Or by the blue lake's long retiring shore,
Now seen distinct, through the disparting haze,
The glittering file its bannered length displays;
Now winding from the woods, again appears
The moving line of matchlocks and of spears.
Part seen, part lost; the long illustrious march
Circling the swamp, now draws its various arch;
And seems, as on it moves, meandering slow,
A radiant segment of a living bow.
Five days the Spaniards, trooping in array, 150
O'er plains and headlands, held their eastern way.
On the sixth early dawn, with shuddering awe
And horror, in the last defile they saw
Ten pendent heads, from which the gore still run,
All gashed, and grim, and blackening in the sun.
These were the gallant troop that passed before,
The Indians' vast encampment to explore,
Led by Del Oro, now with many a wound
Pierced, and a headless trunk upon the ground.
The horses startled, as they tramped in blood; 160
The troops a moment half-recoiling stood.
But boots not now to pause, or to retire;
Valdivia's eye flashed with indignant fire:
Follow! he cried, brave comrades, to the hill!
And instant shouts the pealing valley fill.
And now, up to the hill's ascending crest,
With animated look and beating breast,
He urged his steed; when, wide beneath his eye,
He saw, in long expanse, Arauco's valley lie.
Far as the labouring sight could stretch its glance, 170
One undulating mass of club and lance,
One animated surface seemed to fill
The many-stirring scene from hill to hill:
To the deep mass he pointed with his sword,
Banner, advance! give out "Castile!" the word.
Instant the files advance, the trumpets bray,
And now the host in terrible array,
Ranged on the heights that overlook the plain,
Has halted!
But the task were long and vain 180
To tell what nations, from the seas that roar
Rou