De Orbe Novo

Abstract

Behind the red trees, I saw them. That led down toward the sweet sea, through heliconia and amaryllis, broad-leafed and thick, the twisted vines, the stands of palmetto, I saw these ill-mapped travellers, their barnacled ships, the masts sea-loosened, the cordage spent, and I turned and ran. CARIAY! CIAMBI! * * * A hawk's bell. A red cap for gold. A looking-glass for gold. Always for GOLD. Who can speak to them? * * * I watched them mouth bitterly the beetle and dog, pith, roots and horses. The chigger and black fly made deep welts rise, in piraguas and balsas against the currents they poled, water casks broken, abandoned, islanded, fevers of the swamp chilled their bloated bodies, from brackish waters drank while in the bush the bushmaster waited. Mutiny they committed on this mutinous terrain. I ran through the high dense land, the gley, the riverside vines and lianas, - see how my plait came undone. Through tall scrub palms, over ash and cinders, their bearded bodies weighted by casques and cuirasses, with lombards and muskets, they followed, their feet trampling the black leaf mold. How was I to do? The stone mace, my spear, palm-wood, flint-edged, bucklers of tapir the bow and arrow failed. * * * Would they tell us if the stars and moon lose their brightness? Will the heavens ever fall? Stop in their course? What causes darkness and cold? Why not light and heat always? Where does the soul go after it leaves the body? Did they fall from the heavens like the flight of the arrow? The curve of the rainbow? Why do so few want so much gold? How can Christ be both man and god? a mother and a virgin? I opened my eyes and asked these questions, wet, my hands moist in the hot-bone air, my waist circled by water, the baptism complete. * * * They answered with warm toil and hard words, prayers and chains. Borne of horse and oxen, these emissaries of light gave us God's news, taught us the heavenly ways of the Lord. Twice-ruled, I in thrall listened of Kings and Popes, of Hell's torments, and our Salvation and I did my head bow in life's prayer to defeat kindred spirits, sloth and indolence, idleness and vice, - thus saved, yes, saved, from myself, was that our Lord? we did sing Ave Marias, a Pater Noster, the Salve and Credo even as our vices stronger, amazed, sin overtook us. Stocks and stones in my heart, fastened by my heathenish flesh. I stirred tyranny against God till they stubborned my heart, - and thus: Boots squelching in the mud, poniards raking the flesh, an overseer goading, goading moving the column for them to pay their tithes and tributes. No gold in golden Veragua to palm their fingering hands. A booty for them our bodies to lucre and hoe and prod our hands into the turning soil for wine and vinegar through rain and mud to mine for silver the argentine path a bone-clad tribute to our Lord. We wore the ROYAL IRON thus: And, oft, the bone-fire roared while the turkey vulture circled, circled, waiting for maize and blood. * * * Our crops, after idols, the shad and mamey, were theirs, - they spoke of hungry mouths manioc, manioc, for the poor man, of God, the cross and virgin. Their holiness we should worship, - HER. We listen. What voices? WE COMMAND that no FREE INDIAN be taken to Pearl FISHERIES under pain of death. WHATSOEVER person shall KILL, or WOUND, or lay INJURIOUS hands on any INDIAN, or take from him his WIFE or DAUGHTER, or do other violence or injury, be punished conformably to the LAWS OF THESE KINGDOMS. * * * We listen. SING A SONG. I am widowed and cannot sing. SING A GLADSOME SONG. A bone sticks in my throat. PRAY TO GOD. My tongue worms to thee. …