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INSCRIBED ON THE ORIGINAL MANUSCRIPT.
UNCLASP me, Stranger; and unfold,
In RABIDA's monastic fane
No earthly thought has here a place,
Yet here, in consecrated dust,
Here tempest-worn and desolate*
* We have an interesting account of his first appearance in Spain, that country which was so soon to be the theatre of his glory. According to the testimony of Garcia Fernandez, the physician of Palos a sea-faring man, accompanied by a very young boy, stopped one day at the gate of the convent of La Rábida and asked of the porter a little bread and water for his child. While they were receiving this humble refreshment, the Prior, Juan Perez, happening to pass by, was struck with the look and manner of the stranger, and, entering into conversation with bim, soon learnt the particulars of his story. The stranger was Columbus; the boy was his son Diego; and, but for this accidental interview, America might have remained long undiscovered: for it was to the zeal of Juan Perez that he was finally indebted for the accomplishment of his great purpose. See Irving's History of Columbus.
'Twas here, unknowing and unknown,
One hallowed morn, methought, I felt As if a soul within me dwelt! But who arose and gave to me The sacred trust I keep for thee, And in his cell at even-tide
Knelt before the cross and died
Inquire not now. His name no more
To me one little hour devote, And lay thy staff and scrip beside thee; Read in the temper that he wrote, And may his gentle spirit guide thee!
My leaves forsake me, one by one ;
THERE is a spirit in the old Spanish Chroniclers of the sixteenth century that may be compared to the freshness of water at the fountain-head. Their simplicity, their sensibility to the strange and the wonderful, their very weaknesses give an infinite value, by giving a life and a character to every thing they touch; and their religion, which bursts out every where, addresses itself to the imagination in the highest degree. If they err, their errors are not their own. They think and feel after the fashion of the time ; and their narratives are so many moving pictures of the actions, manners, and thoughts of their contemporaries.
What they had to communicate, might well make them eloquent; but, inasmuch as relates to Columbus, the Inspiration went no farther. No National Poem appeared on the subject; no Camoëns did honour to his Genius and his Virtues. Yet the materials, that have descended to us, are surely not unpoetical ; and