quest, was not slow in despoiling the place of its glories; and the site of its proud towers and temples, in less than half a century after that fatal period, was to be traced only by the huge mass of ruins that ercumbered the ground. The Spaniards were nearly mad with joy, says an old writer, at receiving these brilliant tidings of the Peruvian city. All their fond dreams were now to be realized, and they had at length reached the realm which had so long flitted in visionary splendor before them. Pizarro expressed his gratitude to heaven for having crowned his labors with so glorious a result.

1 AR'-QUE-BUSE, a sort of hand gun, anciently used, which was cocked with a wheel.

LXXXIV. THE ANGELS AT BUENA VISTA.

WHITTIER.

The American Army, under General Taylor, defeated the Mexicans at Buena Vista, February 22d and 23d, 1847.

1. Speak and tell us, our Ximena, looking northward

far away,

O'er the camp of the invaders, o'er the Mexican array, Who is losing? who is winning? are they far or come they near?

Look abroad, and tell us, sister, whither rolls the storm we hear.

2. Down the hills of Angostura still the storm of battle rolls;

Blood is flowing, men are dying; God have mercy on their souls!"

Who is losing? who is winning?—“ Over hill and over

plain,

I see but smoke of cannon clouding through the mountain rain."

3. Holy Mother! keep our brothers! Look, Ximena, look once more:

"Still I see the fearful whirlwind rolling darkly as

before,

Bearing on, in strange confusion, friend and foeman foot and horse,

Like some wild and troubled torrent sweeping down its mountain course."

4. Look forth once more, Ximena! "Ah! the smoke has rolled away;

And I see the Northern rifles gleaming down the ranks

of gray.

Hark! that sudden blast of bugles! there the troop of Miñon wheels;

There the Northern horses thunder, with the cannon at

heels.

5. "Jesu, pity! how it thickens! now retreat and now advance!

Right against the blazing cannon shivers Puebla's charging lance!

Down they go, the brave young riders; horse and foot together fall;

Like a plowshare in the fallow, through them plows the Northern ball."

6. Nearer came the storm and nearer, rolling fast and frightful on:

Speak, Ximena, speak and tell us, who has lost and who has won?

"Alas! alas! I know not; friend and foe together fall; O'er the dying rush the living: pray, my sisters, for them all!"

7. "Lo! the wind the smoke is lifting: Blessed Mother, brain!

save my

I can see the wounded crawling slowly out from heaps

of slain :

Now they stagger, blind and bleeding; now they fall, and strive to rise;

Hasten, sisters, haste and save them, lest they die before our eyes!

8. "Oh, my heart's love! oh, my dear one! lay thy poor head on my knee;

Dost thou know the lips that kiss thee? Canst thou hear me? canst thou see me?

Oh, my husband, brave and gentle! Oh, my Bernal, look once more

On the blessed cross before thee! Mercy! mercy! all is o'er!"

9. Dry thy tears, my poor Ximena; lay thy dear one down to rest;

Let his hands be meekly folded, lay the cross upon his

breast;

Let his dirge be sung hereafter, and his funeral Masses

said;

To-day, thou poor bereaved one, the living ask thy aid.

10. Close beside her, faintly moaning, fair and young a soldier lay,

Torn with shot and pierced with lances, bleeding slow his life away;

But, as tenderly before him, the lorn Ximena knelt, She saw the Northern eagle shining on his pistol-belt.

11. With a stifled cry of horror straight she turned away her head

With a sad and bitter feeling looked she back upon her dead;

But she heard the youth's low moaning, and his struggling breath of pain,

And she raised the cooling water to his parching lips

again.

12. Whispered low the dying soldier, pressed her hand and faintly smiled:

Was that pitying face his mother's? did she watch beside her child?

All his stranger words with meaning her woman's heart supplied;

With her kiss upon his forehead, "Mother!" murmured he, and died!

13. "A bitter curse upon them, poor boy, who led thee forth,

From some gentle sad-eyed mother, weeping lonely in the North!"

Spake the mournful Mexic woman as she laid him with her dead,

And turned to soothe the living, and bind the wounds which bled.

14. Look forth once more, Ximena! "Like a cloud before the wind

Rolls the battle down the mountain, leaving blood and death behind;

Ah! they plead in vain for mercy; in the dust the wounded strive;

Hide your faces, holy angels! Oh, thou Christ of God, forgive!"

15. Sink, oh night, among thy mountains! let the cool, gray shadows fall;

Dying brothers, fighting demons, drop thy curtain over all!

Through the thickening winter twilight wide apart the battle rolled;

In its sheath the saber rested, and the cannon's lips grew cold.