Did no one ask for me Before you went away?

Piqui Chaqui.

Near a thousand men are seeking For you, and all are enemies, Armed with their miserable clubs.

Ollantay.

If they all arose against me, With this arm I'd fight them all No one yet has beat this hand, Wielding the champi sharp and true.

Piqui Chaqui.

I too would like to give a stroke At least, if my enemy was unarmed.

Ollantay.

To whom?

Piqui Chaqui.

I mean that Urco Huaranca chief, Who lately was in search of thee.

Ollantay.

Perhaps the Inca sends him here If so my anger is aroused.

Piqui Chaqui.

Not from the King, I am a.s.sured, He cometh of his own accord And yet he is an ign.o.ble man.

Ollantay.

He has left Cuzco, I believe; My own heart tells me it is so I'm sure that owl announces it.

We'll take to the hills, at once.

Piqui Chaqui.

But wilt thou abandon the Star?

Ollantay.

What can I do, alas!

Since she has disappeared?

Alas, my dove! my sweet princess.

(Music heard among the rocks.)

Piqui Chaqui.

Listen to that yarahui, The sound comes from somewhere near.

(They sit on rocks.)

SONG

In a moment I lost my beloved, She was gone, and I never knew where; I sought her in fields and in woods, Asking all if they 'd seen the Coyllur.

Her face was so lovely and fair, They called her the beautiful Star.

No one else can be taken for her, With her beauty no girl can compare.

Both the sun and the moon seem to shine, Resplendent they shine from a height, Their rays to her beauty resign Their brilliant light with delight.

Her hair is a soft raven black, Her tresses are bound with gold thread, They fall in long folds down her back, And add charm to her beautiful head.

Her eyelashes brighten her face, Two rainbows less brilliant and fair, Her eyes full of mercy and grace, With nought but two, suns can compare.

The eyelids with arrows concealed, Gaily shoot their rays into the heart They open, lo! beauty revealed, Pierces through like a glittering dart.

Her cheeks Achancara[35] on snow, Her face more fair than the dawn, From her mouth the laughter doth flow, Between pearls as bright as the morn.

Smooth as crystal and spotlessly clear Is her throat, like the corn in a sheaf Her bosoms, which scarcely appear, Like flowers concealed by a leaf.

Her beautiful hand is a sight, As it rests from all dangers secure, Her fingers transparently white, Like icicles spotless and pure.

Ollantay (rising).

That singer, unseen and unknown, Has declared Coyllur's beauty and grace; He should fly hence, where grief overwhelms.