And yet again Aac dared his cause to plead,

His hand out reached that MÓo might love concede.

Mad! mad! he surely was—Can one plant deep

The seed of hate, and then hope love to reap?

Events that Cay had foretold drew near;

For self-willed Aac cast o’er the land dark fear.

Enraged, a pretext he failed not to seek

For war; and soon he caused the soil to reek

With blood of men; for him they bravely fought,

And led by him dire devastation wrought.

When nearly all the land bowed ’neath his sway,

Once more he tried with her to have his way;

By messenger himself would thus demean:

“To MÓo, Aac yields, if she will be his queen.”

Could mortal strive to rouse with greater zeal

Fierce hate and pity kill? Her fall, his weal,

’Twas plain the war that he ungrateful sought,

Had prompted been by fixed desire to reign,

And with the throne its Queen too he’d obtain.

With just wrath filled MÓo scorned the victor’s plea—

Lose all she rather would, her palace flee.

Too soon indeed was this to come about,

Cay’s prophecy no longer one could doubt;

For Aac without delay acquired new force,

Nor cared who fell beneath his reckless course.

At last exulted he in MÓo’s defeat,

And deeds were done that time could ne’er delete.

The noble Pontiff was at once abased

By Aac, who deeply thus himself disgraced.

When MÓo’s defenders lay around her slain,

Her freedom she no longer could retain;

Then captive she was led to meet her fate.

Within Aac’s breast now battled love and hate.

Yet dared he not that heinous sin commit,

Compel what woman’s heart would not permit.

He hoped she soon would plead to be set free,

And since all else was lost for her could she

Withstand his ever strong desire? Relent

She must—to be his consort now consent.

MÓo looked for death; she would surrender life,

Escaping thus all further pain and strife.

At heavy cost Prince Aac’s designs they foiled.

Success was theirs, and guarding her with care,

They gained the coast, great oceans storms to dare.

“Dear native land, where tender mem’ries cling,

No other spot such happy years can bring!”

Thus to himself each, silent, said. The past

Knew no appeal; the lot of all was cast;

The future might, perchance, hold something yet.

And when the sun arose, the sails were set,

That all might find on distant, foreign shore,

New homes, where peace would bless their days once more.

Devoted subjects they, renouncing all

To rescue captive Queen, whose complete fall

From sovereign power forbade a hope of gain;

Their only wish to save her further pain.

Thus they with her now fled from Aac’s mad hate,

Untouched by fear of what might them await.

Afar the voyagers went from place to place,

And stayed at length where men of Maya race—

Bold navigators they for centuries back—

Had made a home, and nothing there could lack.