Enchanting offspring of the ardent West, 170
Attunes his soothing song to notes of love,
Mild as the murmurs of the mourning dove;
While his soft plumage glows with brighter hues,
And while with tender bill he sips the dews,
The savage Condor, on terrific wings, 175
From Andes’ frozen steep relentless springs;
And quiv’ring in his fangs, his hapless prey
Drops his gay plume, and sighs his soul away. 178

PERU.

CANTO THE FIFTH.

THE ARGUMENT.

Character of Zamor, a Bard—­his passion for Aciloe, daughter of the Cazique who rules the valley—­the Peruvian tribe prepare to defend themselves—­a battle—­the Peruvians are vanquished—­Aciloe’s father is made a prisoner, and Zamor is supposed to have fallen in the engagement—­Alphonso becomes enamoured of Aciloe—­offers to marry her; she rejects him—­in revenge he puts her father to the torture—­she appears to consent, in order to save him—­meets Zamor in a wood—­Las Casas joins them—­leads the two lovers to Alphonso, and obtains their freedom—­Zamor conducts Aciloe and her father to Chili—­a reflection on the influence of Poetry over the human mind.

PERU.

CANTO THE FIFTH.

In this sweet scene, to all the virtues kind,
Mild Zamor own’d the richest gifts of mind;
For o’er his tuneful breast the heav’nly muse
Shed from her sacred spring, inspiring dews. 
She loves to breathe her hallow’d flame, where art 5
Has never veil’d the soul, or warp’d the heart;
Where fancy glows with all her native fire,
And passion lives on the exulting lyre. 
Nature, in terror rob’d, or beauty drest,
Could thrill with dear enchantment Zamor’s breast:  10
He lov’d the languid sigh the zephyr pours,
He lov’d the murm’ring rill that fed the flow’rs;
But more the hollow sound the wild winds form,
When black upon the billow hangs the storm;
The torrent rolling from the mountain steep, 15
Its white foam trembling on the darken’d deep—­
And oft on Andes’ height with eager gaze,
He view’d the sinking sun’s reflected rays,
Glow like unnumber’d stars, that seem to rest
Sublime, upon his ice-encircled breast. 20
Oft his wild warblings charm’d the festal hour,
Rose in the vale, and languish’d in the bower;
The heart’s responsive tones he well could move,
Whose song was nature, and whose theme was love.

Aciloe’s beauties his fond eye confest, 25
Yet more Aciloe’s virtues warm’d his breast. 
Ah stay, ye tender hours of young delight,
Suspend ye moments your impatient flight;
For sure if aught on earth can bliss impart,
Can shed the genuine joy that sooths the heart, 30
’Tis felt, when early passion’s pure controul
Unfolds the first affections of the soul;
Bids her soft sympathies the bosom move,
And wakes the mild emotions dear to love.