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-Soon is the doubt resolved. Arise, behold -
We stop to stir no more ... nor will the tale be told.”

The pilot smote his breast; the watchman cried
“ Land!” and his voice in faltering accents died.
At once the fury of the prow was quelled ;
And (whence or why from many an age withheld)
Shrieks, not of men, were mingling in the blast ;
And armed shapes of godlike stature passed !
Slowly along the evening-sky they went,
As on the edge of some vast battlement;
Helmet and shield, and spear and gonfalon
Streaming a baleful light that was not of the sun!

Long from the stern the great Adventurer gazed
With awe not fear; then high his hands he raised.
“ Thou All-supreme - --- in goodness as in power,
Who, from his birth to this eventful hour,
Hast led thy servant over land and sea,
Confessing Thee in all, and all in Thee,
Oh still”—He spoke, and lo, the charm accurst
Fled whence it came, and the broad barrier burst!

*

* They may give me what name they please. I am servant of Him, &c. Hist. del Almirante, c. 2.

A vain illusion! (such as mocks the eyes
Of fearful men, when mountains round them risc
From less than nothing) nothing now beheld,
But scattered sedge—repelling, and repelled !

And once again that valiant company
Right onward came, ploughing the Unknown Sea.
Already borne beyond the range of thought,
With Light divine, with Truth immortal fraught,
From world to world their steady course they keep,
Swift as the winds along the waters sweep,
'Mid the mute nations of the purple deep.

- And now the sound of harpy-wings they hear;
Now less and less, as vanishing in fear!,
And see, the heavens bow down, the waters rise,
And, rising, shoot in columns to the skies,
That stand—and still, when they proceed, retire,
As in the Desert burned the sacred fire;
Moving in silent majesty, till Night
Descends, and shuts the vision from their sight.

CANTO III.

An Assembly of Evil Spirits.

book of prayer,

Tho' changed my cloth of gold for amice gray-
In my spring-time, when every month was May,
With hawk and hound I coursed away the hour,
Or sung my roundelay in lady's bower.
And tho' my world be now a narrow cell,
(Renounced for ever all I loved so well)
Tho' now my head be bald, my feet be bare,
And scarce my knees sustain my book of
Oh I was there, one of that gallant crew,
And saw—and wondered whence his Power He drew,
Yet little thought, tho' by his side I stood,
Of his great Foes in earth and air and flood,
Then uninstructed.—But my sand is run,
And the Night coming—and my Task not done !-

'Twas in the deep, immeasurable cave Of Andes, echoing to the Southern wave, 'Mid pillars of Basalt, the work of fire, That, giant-like, to upper day aspire,

'Twas there that now, as wont in heaven to shine,
Forms of angelic mould and grace divine
Assembled. All, exiled the realms of rest,
In vain the sadness of their souls suppressed;
Yet of their glory many a scattered ray
Shot thro' the gathering shadows of decay.
Each moved a God; and all, as Gods, possessed
One half the globe ; from pole to pole confessed !

Oh could I now-but how in mortal verse-
Their numbers, their heroic deeds rehearse!
These in dim shrines and barbarous symbols reign,
Where PLATA and MARAGNON meet the Main.
Those the wild hunter worships as he roves,
In the green shade of Chili's fragrant groves;
Or warrior-tribes with rites of blood implore,
Whose night-fires gleam along the sullen shore
Of HURON or ONTARIO, inland seas,
What time the song of death is in the breeze!

'Twas now in dismal pomp and order due, While the vast concave flashed with lightnings blue, On shining pavements of metallic ore, That many an age the fusing sulphur bore, They held high council. All was silence round, When, with a voice most sweet yet most profound,

A sovereign Spirit burst the gates of night,
And from his wings of gold shook drops of liquid light!
MERION, commissioned with his host to sweep
From age to age the melancholy deep!
Chief of the ZEMI, whom the Isles obeyed,
By Ocean severed from a world of shade.

I.

Prepare, again prepare,”
Thus o'er the soul the thrilling accents came,
“ Thrones to resign for lakes of living flame,

And triumph for despair.
He, on whose call afflicting thunders wait,

Has willed it; and his will is fate!
In vain the legions, emulous to save,

Hung in the tempest o'er the troubled main; Turned each presumptuous prow that broke the wave,

And dashed it on its shores again. All is fulfilled! Behold, in close array, What mighty banners stream in the bright track of day!

II.

“ No voice as erst shall in the desert rise

Nor ancient, dread solemnities

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