Explore "The Bride of Huitzil" by Hervey Allen on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
In Anahuac there reigned a king / Some fifty summers old, / The bloody darling of his gods, / Who sent him luck and gold / And captives from a thousand fights, / And victory in each war; / No mercy kept within his heart -- / He trusted in his star. / But doubts began to sap his mind, / For he was growing old. / The gods he feared might turn unkind; / He gave them plundered gold / And hung their images with hearts / Like roses on a bride, / And all the young slaves from the marts / On Huitzil's altars died.[1] / The priests got everything they sought.
They said the gods were wroth; / They had the rolls of tribute brought -- / Chose bales of twisted cloth, / And cloaks of richest feather-work, / And opals set in gilt, / And many a keen obsidian knife / With carved and curious hilt, / And pearls for which their wives would quarrel, / And bags of cochineal, / And carefully matched and scarlet coral, / And chests of yellow meal, / And rainbow skins of quetzal birds, / Lip jewels, and each a ring; / And all they gave was doubtful words -- / No comfort to the king. / Huitzil, they said, was sorely vexed; / Tlaloc would send no rain; / The more they kept the king perplexed / The more they had to gain. / "Gold I have given," said the king, / "And victims for the feasts; / What more is there that I can bring? " / "Bring beauty! " said the priests.