Queen Moo's Talisman: The Fall of the Maya Empire

								

And many a pleading eye met maniac leer.
Fond mothers left their babes and raving fled;
Thus fast and faster unto death all sped.
Men ran distracted; climbed the stalwart trees,
By earthquake rocked like craft on stormy seas.
Cast off, they rushed to find in caverns deep
A refuge safe; nor into those might creep;
For when they drew anear, with thunderous sound
The cavern mouths closed up as heaved the ground.
In cities rich and great the house-tops swarmed
With frantic men, by fear to brutes transformed.
Around, the blackened, angry waters surged
Till dwellings rocked, and melting soon were merged,
Engulfed in dark abyss with writhing woe,
All swiftly spent in one last awful throe!”


“The temples of the gods, the halls of state,
Quick fell, but failed Lord Homen’s greed to sate.
High towers of stone in fragments crumbled down—
Of perfect structure those, and wide renown.
About man’s shattered works the waters whirled,
And he, to Terror’s chariot lashed, was hurled
To deep repose or spheres to man unknown,
While mangled body lay in ocean prone.
Above the horrid sights and awful fear
Dark waters rolled, mud-laden many a year.
At dawn high crested waves, victorious,
Exulted over Mu long glorious!
Of what she was, some vestige yet may rest
In depth profound ’neath Ocean’s heaving breast.
Perchance, when ages shall have fled, that land,
Stripped bare—again unable to withstand
Volcanic force, that will her life-springs start—
May rise, and thus reborn again take part
On this small globe, mere cosmic spark! yet still
A universe whose powers await man’s will.”


“To Ku the Mighty, hosts of souls went back
Upon that thirteenth night in month of Zac.
The dross returned to nursery of Earth—
All form to fire and water owes its birth.
Our wisemen then by edict made that date
Each week, of thirteen days, to terminate.
And noble hearts that day, with sacred rite,
In urns are hid away from mortal sight;
Then during thirteen days we all lament.
When Maya nation mourns some dire event,
On thirteen altars we our offering make;
And thirteen guests at funeral board partake.
That famous Mu may ne’er forgotten be,
To grief belongs thirteen, by Can’s decree.”


“For many years Mu’s day of doom was feared,
When those who into magic mirrors peered
Saw visions grim; their minds were filled with dread.
Not all believed that into Ocean’s bed
A land of vast dimensions could be thrust
By Homen’s power, yet many felt mistrust.
But one there was more heedful than the rest,
In science versed and with discernment blest;
From Mu he sailed with those who deemed him wise—
Our ancestor was he, thou dost surmise.”


The Princess, deeply touched, in silence heard,
With close attention, not to lose a word.


“To Oracle that ancestor gave ear—