“They determined to leave Tulan, and the greater part of them, under the guardianship and direction of Tohil, set out to see where they would take up their abode.  They continued on their way amid the most extreme hardships for the want of food; sustaining themselves at one time upon the mere smell of their staves, and by imagining they were eating, when in verity and truth they ate nothing.  Their heart, indeed, it is again and again said, was almost broken by affliction.  Poor wanderers! they had a cruel way to go, many forests to pierce, many stern mountains to overpass, and a long passage to make through the sea, along the shingle and pebbles and drifted sand—­the sea being, however, parted for their passage.  At last they came to a mountain, that they named Hacavitz, after one of their gods, and here they rested—­for here they were by some means given to understand that they should see the sun.  Then, indeed, was filled with an exceeding joy the heart of Balam-Quitzé, of Balam-Agab of Mahucutah, and of Iqui-Balam.  It seemed to them that even the face of the morning star caught a new and more resplendent brightness.

“They shook their incense-pans and danced for very gladness:  sweet were their tears in dancing, very hot

[1.  Poor, “Sanskrit and Kindred Literatures,” p. 883.]

{p. 245}

their incense—­their precious incense. At last the sun commenced to advance; the animals small and great were full of delight; they raised themselves to the surface of the water; they fluttered in the ravines; they gathered at the edge of the mountains, turning their beads together toward that part from which the sun came.  And the lion and the tiger roared.  And the first bird that sang was that called the Queletzu.  All the animals were beside themselves at the sight; the eagle and the kite beat their wings, and every bird both great and small. The men prostrated themselves on the ground, for their hearts were full to the brim."[1]

How graphic is all this picture!  How life-like!  Here we have the starving and wandering nations, as described in the preceding chapter, moving in the continual twilight; at last the clouds grow brighter, the sun appears:  all nature rejoices in the unwonted sight, and mankind fling themselves upon their faces like “the rude and savage man of Ind, kissing the base ground with obedient breast,” at the first coming of the glorious day.

But the clouds still are mighty; rains and storms and fogs battle with the warmth and light.  The “Popul Vuh” continues: 

“And the sun and the moon and the stars were now all established”; that is, they now become visible, moving in their orbits.  “Yet was not the sun then in the beginning the same as now; his heat wanted force, and he was but as a reflection in a mirror; verily, say the historians, not at all the same sun as that of to-day.  Nevertheless, he dried up and warmed the surface of the earth, and answered many good ends.”