“He unaccustom’d to the acid juice
Storm’d and with blows had answer’d the abuse,
But fear’d t’engage the European Guest,
Whose Strength and Courage had subdu’d the East.
He therefore chooses a less dang’rous Fray,
And summons all his Country’s Plants away:
Forthwith in decent Order they appear,
And various Fruits on various Branches wear.
Like Amazons they stand in painted Arms,
Coca alone appeared with little Charms,
Yet led the Van, our scoffing Venus scorn’d
The shrub-like tree, and with no Fruit adorn’d,
The Indian Plants, said she, are like to speed
In this dispute of the most fertile Breed,
Who choose a Dwarf and Eunuch for their head;
Our Gods laugh’d out aloud at what she said,
Pachamama defends her darling Tree,
And said the wanton Goddess was too free;
You only know the fruitfulness of Lust,
And therefore here your judgment is unjust,
Your skill in other off-springs we may trust,
With those Chast tribes that no distinction know
Of Sex, your Province nothing has to do.
Of all the Plants that any soil does bear,
This Tree in Fruits the richest does appear,
It bears the best, and bears ’em all the year.
Ev’n now with Fruits ’tis stored—why laugh you yet
Behold how thick with Leaves it is beset,
Each Leaf is Fruit, and such substantial fare,
No Fruit beside to rival it will dare.
Mov’d with his Country’s coming Fate (whose Soil
Must for her Treasures be exposed to spoil)
Our Varicocha first this Coca sent,
Endow’d with Leaves of wond’rous Nourishment,
Whose Juice Succ’d in, and to the Stomach tak’n
Long Hunger and long Labour can sustain;
From which our faint and weary Bodies find
More Succour, more they cheer the drooping Mind,
Than can your Bacchus and your Ceres joined.
Three Leaves supply for six days’ march afford.
The Quitoita with this Provision stor’d
Can pass the vast and cloudy Andes o’er.
The dreadful Andes plac’d ’twixt Winter’s store
Of Winds, Rains, Snow, and that more humble Earth,
That gave the small but valiant Coca Birth;
This Champion that makes warlike Venus Mirth.
Nor Coca only useful art at home,
A famous Merchandize thou art become;
A thousand Paci and Vicugni groan,
Yearly beneath thy Loads, and for thy Sake alone
The spacious World’s to us by Commerce known.
Thus spake the Goddess, (on her painted Skin
Were figures wrought) and next calls
Hovia[9] in,
That for its stony Fruit may be despis’d,
But for its Virtue next to Coca priz’d
Her shade by wondrous Influence can compose,
And lock the Senses in such sweet Repose,
That oft the Natives of a distant Soil
Long Journeys take of voluntary Toil,
Only to sleep beneath her Branches’ shade:
Where in transporting Dreams entranc’d they lye,
And quite forget the Spaniards’ Tyranny.”