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Still, if the time allowed! My hour draws near; But he will prompt me when I faint with fear.

Alas, he hears me not! He cannot hear! Twice the moon filled her silver urn with light. Then from the throne an angel winged his flight; He, who unfixed the compass, and assigned O'er the wild waves a pathway to the wind; Who, while approached by none but spirits pure, Wrought, in his progress through the dread obscure, Signs like the ethereal bow that shall endure! 2

As he descended through the upper air,

Day broke on day 3 as God himself were there!
Before the great discoverer, laid to rest,
He stood, and thus his secret soul addressed.*
"The wind recalls thee; its still voice obey.
Millions await thy coming; hence, away.
To thee blest tidings of great joy consigned,
Another nature, and a new mankind!

The vain to dream, the wise to doubt, shall cease;
Young men be glad, and old depart in peace! 5
Hence! though assembling in the fields of air,
Now, in a night of clouds, thy foes prepare
To rock the globe with elemental wars,
And dash the floods of ocean to the stars;
To bid the meek repine, the valiant weep,
And thee restore thy secret to the deep!?

6

"Not then to leave thee! to their vengeance cast, Thy heart their aliment, their dire repast!"

*

To other eyes shall MEXICO unfold

Her feathered tapestries, and roofs of gold,

To other eyes, from distant cliff descried,"
Shall the PACIFIC roll his ample tide;
There destined soon rich argosies to ride.
Chains thy reward! beyond the ATLANTIC wave
Hung in thy chamber, buried in thy grave!
Thy reverend form " to time and grief a prey,
A spectre wandering in the light of day!

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B

"What though thy gray hairs to the dust descend, Their scent shall track thee, track thee to the end; Thy sons reproached with their great father's fame," And on his world inscribed another's name! That world a prison-house, full of sights of woe, Where groans burst forth, and tears in torrents flow! These gardens of the sun, sacred to song,

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By dogs of carnage, howling loud and long,

Swept till the voyager, in the desert air,15
Starts back to hear his altered accents there! 16

"Not thine the olive, but the sword to bring; Not peace, but war! Yet from these shores shall spring Peace without end; " from these, with blood defiled,

17

Spread the pure spirit of thy Master mild!

Here, in His train, shall arts and arms attend,18
Arts to adorn, and arms but to defend.
Assembling here, all nations shall be blest;
The sad be comforted; the weary rest:

19

Untouched shall drop the fetters from the slave;"

And He shall rule the world he died to save!

Hence, and rejoice. The glorious work is done. A spark is thrown that shall eclipse the sun! And, though bad men shall long thy course pursue, As erst the ravening brood o'er chaos flew,21

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He, whom I serve, shall vindicate his reign;
The spoiler spoiled of all;" the slayer slain; "
The tyrant's self, oppressing and opprest,
Mid gems and gold unenvied and unblest: 24
While to the starry sphere thy name shall rise,
(Not there unsung thy generous enterprise !)
Thine in all hearts to dwell - by Fame enshrined,
With those, the few, that live but for mankind;
Thine evermore, transcendant happiness!

World beyond world to visit and to bless."

13

ON the two last leaves, and written in another hand, are some stanzas in the romance or ballad measure of the Spaniards. The subject is an adventure soon related.

THY lonely watch-tower, Larenille,

Had lost the western sun;

And loud and long from hill to hill
Echoed the evening-gun,

When Hernan, rising on his oar,

Shot like an arrow from the shore.

"Those lights are on St. Mary's Isle;
They glimmer from the sacred pile."
The waves were rough; the hour was late.
But soon across the Tinto borne,
Thrice he blew the signal-horn,

He blew and would not wait.

Home by his dangerous path he went;
Leaving, in rich habiliment,

Two strangers at the convent-gate.

They ascended by steps hewn out in the rock; and, having asked for admittance, were lodged there.

Brothers in arms the guests appeared;

The youngest with a princely grace!
Short and sable was his beard,
Thoughtful and wan his face.

His velvet cap a medal bore,

And ermine fringed his broidered vest;
And, ever sparkling on his breast,
An image of St. John he wore."

Не

The eldest had a rougher aspect, and there was craft in his eye stood a little behind, in a long black mantle, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword; and his white hat and white shoes glittered in the moonshine.3

"Not here unwelcome, though unknown.
Enter and rest!" the friar said.

The moon, that-through the portal shone,
Shone on his reverend head.

Through many a court and gallery dim
Slowly he led, the burial-hymn
Swelling from the distant choir.
But now the holy men retire;
The arched cloisters issuing through,
In long, long order, two and two.

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When other sounds had died away,
And the waves were heard alone,
They entered, though unused to pray,
Where God was worshipped, night and day,
And the dead knelt round in stone;
They entered, and from aisle to aisle
Wandered with folded arms a while,
Where on his altar-tomb reclined1
The crosiered abbot; and the knight,
In harness for the Christian fight,
His hands in supplication joined ;
Then said, as in a solemn mood,
"Now stand we where COLUMBUS stood!"

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"PEREZ, thou good old man," they cried,
"And art thou in thy place of rest?-
Though in the western world his grave,
That other world, the gift he gave,'

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