Muerte de Moctezuma

Again indulge thy Soul, and o'er a Vast
Of varying Prospects, see the pompous rise
Of Mexico's proud tow'rs, where haughty Kings,
For ages, held their wide controul, and reign'd
Supreamly Great: see there dread Cortez holds
A Monarch pris'ner, tho' surrounded with
Such numbers of his Guards; Amazing scene!
Th' effects of abject Cowardice and Fear:
See, the bold Stranger drains his Wealth, and awes
Him with his Frown: but hark! what murmurs run
Amid the Croud! Suspicion, Phrenzy, Rage
Awake on ev'ry Brow, the sound of Arms
Rings horrid to the clouds, and dire Uproar,
Ascending loudly, thickens by degrees
And thunders all around: with wild surprise
The Spaniards view the brooding storm approach
And meditate their Flight in vain: for lo!
In Crouds on Crouds, innumerably large,
Their Enemies advance, and, mad with Wrongs,
Incessantly renew'd, besiege them round,
And sternly threaten a severe Revenge.
Cortez, amaz'd, and doubting the event,
Brings out his royal Captive to command
His Subjects into Peace: the Monarch's voice
Is drown'd in the increasing Roar, their Rage
Redoubles, and, amidst a furious show'r
Of Stones, and Darts, he falls, their Monarch falls
The unhappy Victim of ungovern'd Crouds.