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

								



Scarce gone the man, when doubt brought some relief—
He must be mad! Allured by this belief
She fixed her gaze on Hope’s illusive beam—
“Untrue the tale! a frightful, ghastly dream!
He dead! Impossible! Sore wounded, yes,
As oft; his voice would ease her keen distress.
The valiant Coh could never vanquished be,
Victorious from every fight came he.”
Thus to herself, forbidding other thought,
And from her palace rushed, not caring aught
For those who would detain her steps, she fled
To meet the Prince; her servitors she led.


He came surrounded by a mighty crowd.
“Make way for us!” the Queen’s men cried aloud—
“The Queen is here!” Her breath was all but spent.
The bearers stopped; with cries the air was rent.
Then bending low, her arms about him flung,
She gasped! To his, cold set, her hot lips clung.
Beneath an arch of warriors’ shields upraised,
She saw, she felt; in death Coh’s eyes were glazed.
Ah! woful sight! ’twas more than Móo could bear—
She fell, unconscious of the tender care
On her bestowed, as homeward borne apace;
Far happier had she been in Death’s embrace.


’Neath holy Ceiba tree, upon the ground,
Struck down by one unknown, Coh had been found.
Whence came the treacherous foe? From foreign land?
Beloved by all was Coh—Whose then the hand?
With brother’s blood would Aac himself imbrue?
This thought in vain she struggled to subdue.
“I rave!” she cried; her mind with doubt was torn;
Those brothers royal were from one womb born.
“O wretched man! O cruel, monstrous fate!
Our Prince was sacrificed to mortal hate!
Unarmed was he when came the stealthy foe
Behind, to strike unseen the vengeful blow.
Thrice stabbed, Coh reeled and fell. Then turned to flee
His slayer, who rejoiced alive and free!”


With passion’s anguish riven, loud she moaned—
Could she forgive? Must this crime be condoned?
A deed so foul by her own brother base—
What act could e’er such deep-set blot efface?
For brother-consort by a brother slain
Must she herself with bloody vengeance stain?


To dark despair the Queen bereft gave way,
Nor heeded anyone who tried to stay
Her grief, until the Pontiff Cay came—
Successor to the Sage who’d borne that name.
Alone with Móo he groaned, “’Tis Aac I see!
His life is ours to take; but this would be
With crime as infamous ourselves to brand—
Let not two fratricides accurse the land!
Our impulse to avenge must be suppressed;
Nor may our soul by anger be possessed.
Let Aac himself convict. Do thou, I pray,
Request his presence here—he’ll quick obey.”


Aac’s handsome face wore mask of grief until
The High Priest sternly thus expressed his will:
“Our dauntless Coh is slain by one unknown;
The coward’s blood for this crime should atone.
The Maya nation mourns—be thine the task