Who, while approached by none but Spirits pure, Day broke on day as God himself were there! He stood, and thus his secret soul addressed. "The wind recalls thee; its still voice obey. The vain to dream, the wise to doubt shall cease; And Thee restore thy Secret to the Deep! 66 Not then to leave Thee! to their vengeance cast, Thy heart their aliment, their dire repast!† *P. Martyr. Epist. 133, 152. See the Eumenides of Eschylus, v. 305, &c. To other eyes shall MEXICO unfold Her feathered tapestries, and roofs of gold. There destined soon rich argosies to ride. "What tho' 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, Starts back to hear his altered accents there! 66 Not thine the olive, but the sword to bring, Not peace, but war! Yet from these shores shall spring * See the Eumenides of Eschylus, v. 246. Peace without end;* from these, with blood defiled, Spread the pure spirit of thy Master mild! Here, in His train, shall arts and arms attend, Arts to adorn, and arms but to defend. "Hence, and rejoice. The glorious work is done. Thine evermore, transcendent happiness! World beyond world to visit and to bless." *See Washington's farewell address to his fellow-citizens. 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. He blew and would not wait. Home by his dangerous path he went; Two Strangers at the Convent-gate. The Convent of La Rábida. 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! 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.* The Eldest had a rougher aspect, and there was craft in his eye. He 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.t "Not here unwelcome, tho' unknown. Enter and rest!" the Friar said. * See Bernal Diaz, c. 203; and also a well known portrait of Cortes, ascribed to Titian. Cortes was now in the 43d, Pizarro in the 50th year of his age. † Agustin Zaratè, lib. iv. c. 9. |