*9
[Footnote 9: The Araucana of Ercilla may claim the merit, indeed,
- if it be a merit, - of combining both romance and history in
one. Surely never did the Muse venture on such a specification
of details, not merely poetical, but political, geographical, and
statistical, as in this celebrated Castilian epic. It is a
military journal done into rhyme.]
Mass was said, as if the Spaniards were about to fight what they
deemed the good fight of the faith, instead of imbruing their
hands in the blood of their countrymen. Hernando Pizarro then
made a brief address to his soldiers. He touched on the personal
injuries he and his family had received from Almagro; reminded
his brother's veterans that Cuzco had been wrested from their
possession; called up the glow of shame on the brows of
Alvarado's men as he talked of the rout of Abancay, and, pointing
out the Inca metropolis that sparkled in the morning sunshine, he
told them that there was the prize of the victor. They answered
his appeal with acclamations; and the signal being given, Gonzalo
Pizarro, heading his battalion of infantry, led it straight
across the river. The water was neither broad nor deep, and the
soldiers found no difficulty in gaining a landing, as the enemy's
horse was prevented by the marshy ground from approaching the
borders. But, as they worked their way across the morass, the
heavy guns of Orgonez played with effect on the leading files,
and threw them into disorder.
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