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But for the passing current's flow,

And cleft waves, brawling round the prow, They might have thought some magic spell

A gentler mien; relations, friends, Glare on him now like angry fiends; And, as he moves, ah, wretched cheer!

Had bound them, weary fate! for ever there to Their mutter'd curses reach his ear:

dwell.

VII.

What did this trackless waste supply
To soothe the mind or please the eye?
The rising morn through dim mist breaking,
The flicker'd east with purple streaking;
The midday cloud through thin air flying,
With deeper blue the blue sea dying;
Long ridgy waves their white mains rearing,
And in the broad gleam disappearing;
The broaden'd, blazing sun declining,
And western waves like fire flood shining;
The sky's vast dome to darkness given,
And all the glorious host of heaven.

VIII.

Full oft upon the deck, while other's slept,
To mark the bearing of each well-known star
That shone aloft, or on th' horizon far,
The anxious Chief his lonely vigil kept;
The mournful wind, the hoarse wave breaking near,
The breathing groans of sleep, the plunging lead,
The steersman's call, and his own stilly tread,
Are all the sounds of night that reach his ear.
His darker form stalk'd through the sable gloom
With gestures discomposed and features keen,
That might not in the face of day be seen,
Like some unblessed spirit from the tomb.

Night after night, and day succeeding day,
So pass'd their dull, unvaried time away;

But all undaunted, firm and sage,

He scorns their threats, yet thus he soothes their

rage:

"I brought you from your native shore

An unknown ocean to explore.

I brought you, partners, by my side,
Want, toil, and danger, to abide.

Yet weary stillness hath so soon subdued

The buoyant soul, the heart of pride,

Men who in battle's brunt full oft have firmly stood.
That to some nearing coast we bear,
How many cheering signs declare!
Wayfaring birds the blue air ranging,
Their shadowy line to blue air changing,
Pass o'er our heads in frequent flocks;
While seaweed from the parent rocks
With fibry roots, but newly torn

In tressy lengthen'd wreaths are on the clear wave borne.

Nay, has not e'en the drifting current brought
Things of rude art,-of human cunning wrought?
Be yet two days your patience tried,
And if no shore is then descried,
E'en turn your dastard prows again,
And cast your leader to the main."

XI.

And thus a while with steady hand He kept in check a wayward band, Who but with half-express'd disdain Their rebel spirit could restrain.

Till hope, the seaman's worshipp'd queen, had flown The veteran, rough as war-worn steel,

From every valiant heart but his alone;

Where still, by day, enthroned, she held her state With sunny look and brow elate.

IX.

Oft spurn'd the deck with grating heel;

The seaman, bending o'er the flood,
With stony gaze all listless stood;

The sturdy bandit, wildly rude,
Sung, as he strode, some garbled strain,

But soon his dauntless soul, which naught could Expressive of each fitful mood,

bend,

Nor hope delay'd, nor adverse fate subdue,

With more redoubled danger must contend

Than storm or wave-a fierce and angry crew.

"Dearly," say they, "may we those visions rue Which lured us from our native land,

A wretched, lost, devoted band,
Led on by hope's delusive gleam,
The victims of a madman's dream!
Nor gold shall e'er be ours, nor fame;
Not e'en the remnant of a name,
On some rude-letter'd stone to tell
On what strange coast our wreck befell.
For us no requiem shall be sung,
Nor prayer be said, nor passing knell
In holy church be rung."

X.

To thoughts like these, all forms give way
Of duty to a leader's sway;
All habits of respect that bind
With easy tie the human mind.
E'en love and admiration throw
Their nobler bands aside, nor show

Timed by his sabre's jangling chain
The proud Castilian, boasted name!

Child of an ancient race

Which proudly prized its spotless fame,
And deem'd all fear disgrace,

Felt quench'd within him honour's generous flame,
And in his gather'd mantle wrapp'd his face.

XII.

So pass'd the day, the night, the second day
With its red setting sun's extinguish'd ray.
Dark, solemn midnight coped the ocean wide,
When from his watchful stand Columbus cried,
"A light, a light!"-blest sounds that rung
In every ear. At once they sprung
With haste aloft, and, peering bright,
Descried afar the blessed sight.
"It moves, it slowly moves like ray
Of torch that guides some wanderer's way!
And other lights more distant, seeming
As if from town or hamlet streaming!

'Tis land, 'tis peopled land; man dwelleth there, And thou, O God of heaven! hast heard thy servant's prayer!"

XIII.

Returning day gave to their view
The distant shore and headlands blue
Of long-sought land. Then rose on air
Loud shouts of joy, mix'd wildly strange
With voice of weeping and of prayer,
Expressive of their blessed change
From death to life, from fierce to kind,

From all that sinks, to all that elevates the mind.
Those who, by faithless fear insnared,
Had their brave chief so rudely dared,
Now, with keen self-upbraiding stung,
With every manly feeling wrung,
Repentant tears, looks that entreat,
Are kneeling at his worshipp'd feet.
"O pardon blinded, stubborn guilt!
O henceforth make us what thou wilt!
Our hands, our hearts, our lives, are thine,
Thou wondrous man! led on by power divine !"

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It was a land, unmarr'd by art,
To please the eye and cheer the heart:
The natives' simple huts were seen
Peeping their palmy groves between,-
Groves, where each dome of sweepy leaves
In air of morning gently heaves,
And, as the deep vans fall and rise,
Changes its richly verdant dyes;
A land whose simple sons till now
Had scarcely seen a careful brow ;
They spent at will each passing day
In lightsome toil or active play.
Some their light canoes were guiding,
Along the shore's sweet margin gliding.
Some in the sunny sea were swimming,

The bright waves o'er their dark forms gleaming;

Some on the beach for shell-fish stooping,
Or on the smooth sand gayly trooping;
Or in link'd circles featly dancing
With golden braid and bracelet glancing.
By shelter'd door were infants creeping,
Or on the shaded herbage sleeping;
Gay feather'd birds the air were winging,
And parrots on their high perch swinging,
While humming-birds, like sparks of light,
Twinkled and vanish'd from the sight.

XVII.

They eyed the wondrous strangers o'er and o'er,-
Those beings of the ocean and the air,
With humble, timid reverence; all their store
Of gather'd wealth inviting them to share ;
To share whate'er their lowly cabins hold;
Their feather'd crowns, their fruits, their arms,
their gold.

Their gold, that fatal gift!—O foul disgrace!
Repaid with cruel wreck of all their harmless race.

XVIII.

There some short, pleasing days with them he dwelt,

And all their simple kindness dearly felt.
But they of other countries told,
Not distant, where the sun declines,
Where reign Caziques o'er warriors bold,
Rich with the gold of countless mines.
And he to other islands sail'd,
And was by other natives hail'd.
Then on Hispaniola's shore,
Where bays and harbours to explore
Much time he spent ; a simple tower
Of wood he built, the seat to be,
And shelter of Spain's infant power;
Hoping the nurseling fair to see,
Amidst those harmless people shoot
Its stately stem from slender root.
There nine and thirty chosen men he placed,
Gave parting words of counsel and of cheer;
One after one his nobler friends embraced,
And to the Indian chieftain, standing near,
"Befriend my friends, and give them aid,
When I am gone," he kindly said,

Blest them, and left them there his homeward course to steer.

XIX.

His prayer to Heaven for them preferr'd
Was not, alas! with favour heard.
Oft, as his ship the land forsook,
He landward turn'd his farewell look,
And cheer'd his Spaniards cross the wave,
Who distant answer faintly gave;
Distant but cheerful. On the strand
He saw their clothed figures stand
With naked forms link'd hand in hand!-
Saw thus caress'd, assured, and bold,
Those he should never more behold.
Some simple Indians, gently won,
To visit land, where sets the sun
In clouds of amber, and behold,
The wonders oft by Spaniards told;

Stood silent by themselves apart,
With nature's yearnings at their heart,
And saw the coast of fading blue
Wear soft and sadly from their view.
But soon by their new comrades cheer'd,
As o'er the waves the ship career'd,
Their wandering eyes aloft were cast
On white swoln sails and stately mast,
And checkering shrouds, depicted fair,
On azure sea and azure air;

And felt, as feels the truant boy,

Who, having climb'd some crumbling mound
Or ruin'd tower, looks wildly round
A thrilling, fearful joy.

XX.

Then with his two small barks again
The dauntless chief traversed the main;
But not with fair and favouring gales
That erst had fill'd his western sails:
Fierce winds with adverse winds contended;
Rose the dark deep,-dark heaven descended;
And threaten'd, in the furious strife,

How, pressing close, they stood; Look'd on Columbus with amaze,"Is he," so spake their wondering gaze, "A man of flesh and blood?" While cannon far along the shore His welcome gave with deafening roar.

XXIV.

And then with measured steps, sedate and slow,
They to the Christian's sacred temple go.
Soon as the chief within the house of God

Upon the hallow'd pavement trod,

He bowed with holy fear :

"The God of wisdom, mercy, might, Creator of the day and night,

This sea-girt globe, and every star of light,

Is worshipp'd here."

Then on the altar's steps he knelt,

And what his inward spirit felt,

Was said unheard within that cell
Where saintly thoughts and feelings dwell;
But as the choral chanters raise

Through dome and aisle the hymn of praise

The ships to sink with all their freight of preciousTo heaven his glistening eyes were turn'd,

life.

XXI.

In this dread case, well may be guess'd
What dismal thoughts his soul depress'd:
"And must I in th' o'erwhelming deep,
Our bold achievement all unknown,
With these my brave adventurers sleep,-
What we have done to dark oblivion thrown?
Sink, body! to thy watery grave,
If so God will; but let me save
This noble fruitage of my mind,

And leave my name and deeds behind!"
XXII.

Upon a scroll, with hasty pen,
His wondrous tale he traced,
View'd it with tearful eyes, and then
Within a casket placed.

"Perhaps," said he, " by vessel bound
On western cruise, thou wilt be found;
Or make, sped by the current swift,
To Christian shore they happy drift.
Thy story may by friendly eyes be read;
O'er our untimely fate warm tears be shed;
Our deeds rehearsed by many an eager tongue,
And requiems for our parted souls be sung."
This casket to the sea he gave;
Quick sunk and rose the freightage light,-
Appear'd on many a booming wave,

Then floated far away from his still gazing sight.
Yet, after many a peril braved,—

Of many an adverse wind the sport,

He, by his great Preserver saved,
Anchor'd again in Palos' port.

XXIII.

O, who can tell the acclamation loud
That, bursting, rose from the assembled crowd
To hail the hero and his gallant train,
From such adventure bold return'd again!-
The warm embrace, the oft-repeated cheer,
And many a wistful smile and many a tear !-

With sacred love his bosom burn'd.

On all the motley crowd

The generous impulsé seized; high dons of pride Wept like the meekest beedsman by their side, And women sobb'd aloud.

XXV.

Nor statesmen met in high debate
Deciding on a country's fate,
Nor saintly chiefs with fearless zeal
Contending for their churches' weal,
Nor warriors, midst the battle's roar,
Who fiercely guard their native shore ;-
No power by earthly coil possest
To agitate the human breast,
Shows, from its native source diverted,
Man's nature noble, though perverted,
So strongly as the transient power
Of link'd devotion's sympathetic hour.
It clothes with soft unwonted grace
The traits of many a rugged face,
As bend the knees unused to kneel,
And glow the hearts unused to feel;
While every soul, with holy passion moved,
Claims one Almighty Sire, fear'd, and adored, and
loved.

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Together press'd, fair and uncouth,
All motley forms of age and youth.
And, still along the dark-ranged pile
Of clustering life, was heard the while
Mix'd brawling joy, and shouts that rung
From many a loud and deafening tongue.
Ah! little thought the gazing throng,
As pass'd that pageant show along,
How Spain should rue, in future times,
With desert plains and fields untill'd,
And towns with listless loiterers fill'd,

Proud was the don of high degree,
Whose honour'd guest he deign'd to be.
Whate'er his purposed service wanted,
With ready courtesy was granted:
No envious foe durst cross his will.
While eager shipwrights ply their skill,
To busy dockyard, quay, or port,
Priests, lords, and citizens resort:
Their wains the heavy planks are bringing,
And hammers on the anvil ringing;
The far-toss'd boards on boards are falling,

The withering spoil received from foreign climes! | And brawny mate to work-mate calling:

Columbus gave thee, thankless Spain !

A new-found world o'er which to reign; But could not with the gift impart

A portion of his liberal heart

And manly mind, to bid thee soar

Above a robber's lust of

ore,

The cable strong on windlass winding;
On wheel of stone the edge tool grinding;
Red fire beneath the caldron gleaming,
And pitchy fumes from caldron steaming.
To sea and land's men too, I ween,
It was a gay, attractive scene;

Which hath a curse entail'd on all thy countless | Beheld, enjoyed, day after day,

store.

XXVII.

To Barcelona come, with honours meet

Such glorious deeds to grace, his sovereigns greet
Their mariner's return. Or hall,

Or room of state was deem'd too small
For such reception. Pageant rare!
Beneath heaven's dome, in open square,
Their gorgeous thrones were placed;
And near them on an humbler seat,
While on each hand the titled great,
Standing in dizen'd rows, were seen,

Priests, guards, and crowds, a living screen,-
Columbus sat, with noble mien,
With princely honours graced.

There to the royal pair his tale he told:

A wondrous tale, that did not want
Or studied words or braggart's vaunt;
When at their royal feet were laid

Gems, pearls, and plumes of many a shade,
And stores of virgin gold,

Whilst, in their feathered guise arrayed,
The Indians low obeisance paid.
And at that wondrous story's close
The royal pair with reverence rose,

And kneeling on the ground, aloud

Gave thanks to Heaven. Then all the crowd,

Joining, from impulse of the heart,
The banded priest's ecstatic art,
With mingled voice Te Deum sang;

With the grand choral burst, walls, towers, and

welkin rang.

XXVIII.

This was his brightest hour, too bright
For human weal;-a glaring light,
Like sunbeam through the rent cloud pouring
On the broad lake, when storms are roaring;
Bright centre of a wild and sombre scene;
More keenly bright than summer's settled sheen.

XXIX.

With kingly favour brighten'd, all
His favour court, obey his call.
At princely boards, above the rest,
He took his place, admired, caress'd:

Till all his ships, in fair array,
Were bounden for their course at last,
And amply stored and bravely mann'd,
Bore far from blue, receding land.
Thus soon again, th' Atlantic vast
With gallant fleet he past.

XXX.

By peaceful natives hail'd with kindly smiles,
He shortly touch'd at various pleasant isles;
And when at length her well-known shore appear'd,
And he to fair Hispaniola near'd,
Upon the deck, with eager eyes
Some friendly signal to descry,
He stood; then fired his signal shot,
But answering fire received not.
"What may this dismal silence mean?
No floating flag in air is seen,

Nor e'en the Tower itself, though well
Its lofty site those landmarks tell.
Ha! have they so regardless proved
Of my command ?-their station moved!"
As closer to the shore they drew,
To hail them came no light canoe;
The beach was silent and forsaken:
Nor clothed nor naked forms appear'd,
Nor sound of human voice was heard;
Naught but the sea birds from the rock,
With busy stir that fluttering broke;

Sad signs,which in his mind portentous fears awaken.
XXXI.

Then eagerly on shore he went,
His scouts abroad for tidings sent;

But to his own loud echo'd cry
An Indian came with fearful eye,
Who guess'd his questions' hurried sound,
And pointed to a little mound,
Not distant far. With eager haste
The loosen'd mould aside was cast.
Bodies, alas! within that grave were found,
Which had not long been laid to rest,
Though so by changeful death defaced,
Nor form nor visage could be traced.-
In Spanish garments dress'd.

Back from each living Spaniard's cheek the blood
Ran chill, as round their noble chief they stood,

Who sternly spoke to check the rising tear.
"Eight of my valiant men are buried here;
Where are the rest ?" the timid Indian shook
In every limb, and slow and faintly spoke.
"Some are dead, some sick, some flown;
The rest are up the country gone,
Far, far away." A heavy groan
Utters the chief; his blanch'd lips quiver;
He knows that they are gone for ever.

XXXII.

But here 'twere tedious and unmeet
A dismal story to repeat,

Which was from mild Cazique received,
Their former friend, and half believed.
Him, in his cabin far apart,
Wounded they found, by Carib dart;
Received, said he, from savage foe
Spaniards defending. Then with accents low
He spoke, and ruefully began to tell,
What to those hapless mariners befell.
How that from lust of pleasure and of gold,
And mutual strife and war on Caribs made,
Their strength divided was, and burnt their hold,
And their unhappy heads beneath the still earth
laid.

XXXIII.

Yet, spite of adverse fate, he in those climes
Spain's infant power establish'd; after-times
Have seen it flourish, and her sway maintain
In either world, o'er many a fair domain.
But wayward was his irksome lot the while,
Striving with malice, mutiny, and guile;
Yet vainly striving: that which most
His generous bosom sought to shun,
Each wise and liberal purpose crost,

Must now at Mammon's ruthless call be done.
Upon their native soil,

They who were wont in harmless play

To frolic out the passing day,

Must pine with hateful toil.

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Envy mean, that in the dark

Strikes surely at its noble mark,

Against him rose with hatred fell,

Which he could brave, but could not quell.

Then he to Spain indignant went,
And to his sovereigns made complaint,
With manly freedom, of their trust,
Put, to his cost, in men unjust,

And turbulent. They graciously

His plaint and plea received; and hoisting high
His famed and gallant flag upon the main,
He to his western world return'd again.
Where he, the sea's unwearied, dauntless rover,
Through many a gulf and strait, did first discover

That continent, whose mighty reach
From th' utmost frozen north doth stretch
E'en to the frozen south; a land
Of surface fair and structure grand.

XXXVI.

There, through vast regions rivers pour,
Whose midway skiff scarce sees the shore;
Which, rolling on in lordly pride,
Give to the main their ample tide;
And dauntless then, with current strong,
Impetuous, roaring, bear along,

And still their separate honours keep,
In bold contention with the mighty deep.

XXXVII.

There broad-based mountains from the sight
Conceal in clouds their vasty height,

Whose frozen peaks, a vision rare,

Above the girdling clouds rear'd far in upper air At times appear, and soothly seem

To the far distant, up-cast eye,

Like snowy watch-towers of the sky,-
Like passing visions of a dream.

XXXVIII.

There forests grand of olden birth,
O'er-canopy the darken'd earth,
Whose trees, growth of unreckon❜d time,
Rear o'er whole regions far and wide
A checker'd dome of lofty pride
Silent, solemn, and sublime.-

A pillar'd labyrinth, in whose trackless gloom, Unguided feet might stray till close of mortal doom.

XXXIX.

There grassy plains of verdant green
Spread far beyond man's ken are seen,
Whose darker bushy spots that lie
Strew'd o'er the level vast, descry
Admiring strangers, from the brow
Of hill or upland steep, and show,
Like a calm ocean's peaceful isles,

When morning light through rising vapours smiles.

XL.

O'er this, his last-his proudest fame,
He did assert his mission'd claim.
Yet dark, ambitious envy, more
Incensed and violent than before,
With crafty machinations gain'd
His royal master's ear, who stain'd
His princely faith, and gave it power
To triumph, in a shameful hour.
A mission'd gownsman o'er the sea
Was sent his rights to supersede,
And all his noble schemes impede,-
His tyrant, spy, and judge to be.
With parchment scrolls and deeds he came
To kindle fierce and wasteful flame.
Columbus' firm and dauntless soul
Submitted not to base control.

For who that hath high deeds achieved,
Whose mind hath mighty plans conceived,
Can of learn'd ignorance and pride
The petty vexing rule abide ?

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