Explore "The Bride of Huitzil" by Hervey Allen on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
The king held revels in the town / Next evening, and there came / Chieftains and minstrels of renown / To taste the roasted game / And drink strong mescal to the bride, / But there no priests were bid; / Scowling, the high priest hied him down / From Huitzil's pyramid / To the long palace in the town, / Where many litters fared, / And wrangling bearers set guests down, / And sputtering torches flared / With fluxing light along the walls, / And music's measured din / Sounded above the idlers' calls, / While rich guests hurried in.
The sentries talked before the doors, / But in a time of gloom / The priest sneaked in -- down corridors -- / Past many an empty room -- / For all were at the king's repast; / Slaves near each darkened door / Slept by their earthen lamps. At last / He found upon the floor / The mother of the child he'd slain, / Pallid from many tears / Shed in her agony from pain / That scarcely dulls with years. / She knew him standing there. / Nothing was said. / Her face she covered with her hair / And lay as dead.