The Araucaniad

Canto XVI

  [ 137 ] Canto XVI In this Canto the storm subsides. It contains the entrance of the Spaniards into the harbor of Concepción and the Isle of Talcaguano, the general council that the Indians held in the Vale of Ongolmo, and the squabble between Peteguelén and Tucapel, together with the agreement made for its settlement. All four elements conspiring ’Gainst this feeble craft, exceeding Every natural bond and limit, Loosed themselves in lawless orgies, Vicious, riotous, ungoverned, Anarchistic, serried, muddled In the pristine power and discord Of their first chaotic globules. Pommeled by such adversaries, Plunging on, the damaged vessel Ploughed her furrow, though the starboard Dipped beneath the seething surface. When at last she lay submissive To the choleric sea and weather, Chasmed waters rose and whipped her Toward the rocky reef-locked coastline. As Death’s jowls gaped wider, deeper, Screams for mercy were redoubled; Draughts inclement bore them landward, Till the hollow caves vibrated. Skippers, mariners, seafarers Scurried crazily, stampeding; Some cried: “Hoist sails! “Others: “Lengthen!” Some mistook the jib for rigging. Milling groups of wild-eyed travelers Jostled, elbowed, tripped each other; One man moaned a last confession Publicly for past transgressions; Some swore oaths, and others vowing, Bade farewell to absent mothers. Panic swelled the plangent chorus To a solemn miserere. Break, my voice, from sheer exhaustion! Weary muse, drown notes discordant! Hush cacophonous bewailings Both celestial and terrestrial! Glory’s clarion trumpet heralds Winds to waft my breath’s resurgence. War again distills its philtres, Staggering earth from off its orbit. Tender, Holy God, Thy favor, Which is both my chart and compass, For in Thee alone lies succor To deliver me from misery! Look where I have poured oblations! Sublimate my tongue, and hearken! Waves perceiving Thy advertence Will allay their indignation. Struggling in the lashing current, To Thy bark I turn for refuge. If my plea wins Thy nutation, Bend Thy will which governs Nature, Though the pompous sea, transgressing Crass astrology’s dictations, Wrench new mountains from her cradle, Splattering the façade of Heaven. Hope still prods my aspirations. May my leaky bark reach harbor, Contradicting divinations, Frenzied seas, and haughty whirlwinds, Which would fain debar my passage And delay my safe arrival, Till the ancient cause offensive By Thy might be quelled and conquered! [ 138 ] The Araucaniad Rigid cloud-banks crouched and hovered, Dark of doom, a curse impeding; And the sea’s tempestuous belly Bulged with pride like Aconcagua. Grandiose, eternal Father, Must the firmament abet them, Wind and sea, in their conspiring To engulf a bark so fragile? Not the vessel of Amiclas Sieged by wind and sea so ruthless, Though ’twas built of evanescent Timber beams and held the world’s weight, Not Odysseus’ ship nor navy, Launched to escape the final curfew Of Troy’s greatness, brooked such hatred Of the irate gales and breakers. Confidence and optimism Melted in the arms of Terror; Death was masking every visage With its hideous shroud umbrageous; Yielding wholly to their mishap, Hopeless of remedial lodestar, Destiny they crowned their helmsman, Wildly here and yon careening. When with hammer blows the cyclone Rang adown the sea unvanquished, Burst the cables from their moorings, Parasoled the pitching galleon. Hap adverse! The anchor’s clawpiece Caught the foresail’s flapping fringes, Stopped its rippling undulations, As it passed and rent the canvas. Like a pendulum at random Flung about and dislocated By the wind-blasts wrenched and shaken, Down it dropped across the foredeck. God, who of His own is mindful, Though not seldom vexed to violence, By a happy fluke hooked bowsprit With the curving fluke of anchor. In a trice the sail was skewered, And the galleon oriented. Braving sea-spite, gales of rancor, Luffed the rudder toward so’westers. Hell’s release brought Heaven’s contentment, Which the timid breast unwary Scarce withstood, o’erbrimmed each bosom With delight and pain commingled. On the hour the shock of rapture Banished doubt and desperation, And returned a placid coolness To the blood that burned their reason. Contrite, tempest-worn, the company Raised aloft their tear-drenched faces In thanksgiving sacrificial For miraculous salvation. But the ire-inflated billows, Gasping from the windstorm’s flogging, Charged the ship with vain invective, Howe’er obstinate their ramming. Philip’s own benign direction Was the savior helm that towed us O’er the crested foam of breakers, Turreted to drown God’s mansions. Grumous mists, obscure and clabbered, Sprinkled by the...