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.
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.
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.
Yea; this he did against his better will;
For who may stern ambition serve, and still His nobler nature trust?
May on unshaken strength rely,
Cast fortune as she will her dye,
And say "I will be just ?"
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.
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 decp.
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.
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.
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
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 ?
The lion trampled by an ass!
No; this all-school'd forbearance would surpass. Insulted with a felon's chain,
This noble man must cross the main,
From its vast bed profound with heaving throws The mighty waste of weltering waters rose.
And answer his foul charge to cold, ungrateful O'er countless waves, now mounting, now deprest
By India's gentle race alone
Was pity to his suffering shown.
They on his parting wait,
And looks of kindness on him cast,
Or touch'd his mantle as he past,
And mourn'd his alter'd state.
"May the Great Spirit smooth the tide
With gentle gales, and be thy guide!"
And when his vessel wore from land,
With meaning nods and gestures kind
He saw them still upon the strand
Tossing their dark arms on the wind.
He saw them like a helpless flock
Who soon must bear the cruel shock
Of savage wolves, yet reckless still,
Feel but the pain of present ill.
He saw the fate he could not now control,
And groan'd in bitter agony of soul.
He trode the narrow deck with pain,
And oft survey'd his rankling chain.
The ship's brave captain grieved to see
Base irons his noble prisoner gall,
And kindly sued to set him free;
But proudly spoke the lofty thrall,
"Until the king whom I have served,
Who thinks this recompense deserved,
Himself command th' unclasping stroke,
These gyved limbs will wear their yoke.
Yea, when my head lies in the dust,
These chains shall in my coffin rust.
Better than lesson'd saw, though rude,
As token, long preserved of black ingratitude!”
Thus pent, his manly fortitude gave way
To brooding passion's dark tumultuous sway.
Dark was the gloom within, and darker grew
Th' impending gloom without, as onward drew.
Th' embattled storm that, deepening on its way,
With all its marshall'd host obscured the day.
Volume o'er volume, roll'd the heavy clouds,
And oft in dark, dim masses, sinking slow,
Hung in the nether air, like misty shrouds,
Veiling the sombre, silent deep below.
Like eddying snow-flakes from a lowering sky,
Athwart the dismal gloom the frighten'd sea-fowl fly.
Then from the solemn stillness round,
Utters the storm its awful sound.
It groans upon the distant waves;
O'er the mid-ocean wildly raves;
Recedes afar with dying strain,
That sadly through the troubled air
Comes like the wailings of despair,
And with redoubled strength returns again:
Through shrouds and rigging, boards and mast,
Whistles, and howls, and roars th' outrageous blast.
The ridgy surges swell with foaming crest, Like Alpine barriers of some distant shore, Now seen, now lost amidst the deafening roar : While, higher still, on broad and sweepy base, Their growing bulk the mountain billows raise, Each far aloft in lordly grandeur rides,
With many a vassal wave roughening his furrow'd sides.
Heaved to its height, the dizzy skiff
Shoots like an eagle from his cliff
Down to the fearful gulf, and then
On the swoln waters mounts again,-
A fearful way! a fearful state
For vessel charged with living freight!
Within, without, the tossing tempest's rage:
This was, of all his earthly pilgrimage,
The injured hero's fellest, darkest hour.
Yet swiftly pass'd its gloomy power;
For as the wild winds louder blew,
His troubled breast the calmer grew;
And, long before the mighty hand,
That rules the ocean and the land,
Had calm'd the sea, with pious reverence fill'd
The warring passions of his soul were still'd.
Through softly parting clouds the blue sky peer'd,
And heavenward turn'd his eye with better fcei-
Meek are the wise, the great, the good ;He sigh'd, and thought of Him, who died on holy rood.
No more the angry tempest's sport,
The vessel reach'd its destined port.
A town of Christendom he greets,
And treads again its well-known streets;
A sight of wonder, grief, and shame
To those who on his landing came.
And on his state in silence gazed,
"This is the man whose dauntless soul”—
So spoke their looks-" Spain's power hath raised
To hold o'er worlds her proud control!
His honour'd brows with laurel crown'd,
His hands with felon fetters bound!"
And he before his sovereign dame
And her stern lord, indignant came;
And bold in conscious honour, broke
The silence of his smother'd flame,
In words that all his inward anguish spoke.
The gentle queen's more noble breast
Its generous sympathy exprest;
And as his varied story show'd
What wrongs from guileful malice flow'd,
Th' indignant eye and flushing cheek
Did oft her mind's emotion speak.
The sordid king, with brow severe,
Could, all unmoved, his pleadings hear;
Save, that, in spite of royal pride,
Which self reproach can ill abide,
His crimson'd face did meanly show
Of conscious shame th' unworthy glow.
Baffled, disgraced, his enemies remain❜d,
And base ambition for a time restrain'd.
With four small vessels, small supply
I trow! yet granted tardily,
For such high service, he once more
The western ocean to explore
Directs his course. On many an isle
He touch'd, where cheerly, for a while,
His mariners their cares beguile
Upon the busy shore.
And there what wiles of barter keen
Spaniard and native pass between ;
As feather'd crowns, whose colours change
To every hue, with vizards strange,
And gold and pearls are given away,
For bead or bell, or bauble gay!
Full oft the muttering Indian eyes
With conscious smile his wondrous prize,
Beneath the shady plantain seated,
And thinks he hath the stranger cheated;
Or foots the ground like vaunting child,
Suapping his thumbs with antics wild.
But if, at lengta, tired of their guests,
Consuming like those hateful pests,
Locusts or ants, provisions stored
For many days, they will afford
No more, withholding fresh supplies,
And strife and threatening clamours rise,-
Columbus' gentle craft pursues,
And soon their noisy wrath subdues
Thus speaks the chief,-" Refuse us aid
From stores which Heaven for all hath made!
The moon, your mistress, will this night
From you withhold her blessed light,
Her ire to show; take ye the risk."
Then, as half frighten'd, half in jest,
They turn'd their faces to the east,
From ocean rose her broaden'd disk;
But when the deep eclipse came on,
By science sure to him foreknown,
How cower'd each savage at his feet,
Like spaniel couching to his lord,
Awed by the whip or angry word,
His pardon to entreat!
Take all we have, thou heavenly man! And let our mistress smile again!"
Or, should the ship, above, below,
Be fill'd with crowds, who will not go;
Again to spare more hurtful force,
To harmless guile he has recourse.
Ho! gunner! let these scramblers know
The power we do not use:" when, lo!
From cannon's mouth the silvery cloud
Breaks forth, soft curling on the air,
Through which appears the lightning's glare,
And bellowing roars the thunder loud.
Quickly from bowsprit, shroud, or mast,
Or vessel's side the Indians cast
Their naked forms, the water dashing
O'er their dark heads, as stoutly lashing
The briny waves with arms out-spread,
They gain the shore with terror's speed.
Thus checker'd still with shade and sheen
Pass'd in the west his latter scene,
As through the oak's toss'd branches pass
Soft moonbeams, flickering on the grass;
As on the lake's dark surface pour
Broad flashing drops of summer shower:-
As the rude cavern's sparry sides
When past the miner's taper glides.
So roam'd the Chief, and many a sea
Fathom'd and search'd unweariedly,
Hoping a western way to gain
To eastern climes, an effort vain ;
For mighty thoughts, with error uncombined,
Were never yet the meed of mortal mind.
At length, by wayward fortune cross',
And oft-renew'd and irksome strife
Of sordid men,-by tempests tost,
And tired with turmoil of a wanderer's life,
He sail'd again for Europe's ancient shore,
So will'd high Heaven! to cross the seas no m re
His anchor fix'd, his sails for ever furl'd,
A toil-worn pilgrim in a weary world.
LIIL
And thus the Hero's sun went down,
Closing his day of bright renown.
Eight times through breeze and storm he past
O'er surge and wave th' Atlantic vast;
And left on many an island fair
Foundations which the after care
Of meaner chieftains shortly rear'd
To seats of power, serv'd, envied, fear'd.
No kingly conqueror, since time began
The long career of ages, hath to man
A scope so ample given for trade's bold range,
Or caused on earth's wide stage such rapid, mighty change.
He, on the bed of sickness laid,
Saw, unappall'd, death's closing shade;
And there, in charity and love
To man on earth and God above,
Meekly to heaven his soul resign'd,
His body to the earth consign'd.
'Twas in Valladolid he breathed his last,
And to a better, heavenly city pass'd;
But St. Dominga, in her sacred fanc
Doth his blest spot of rest and sculptured tomb contain.
There burghers, knights, adventurers brave,
Stood round in funeral weeds bedight;
And bow'd them to the closing grave,
And wish'd his soul good night.
Now all the bold companions of his toil,
Tenants of many a clime, who wont to come,
(So fancy trows,) when vex'd with worldly coil,
And linger sadly by his narrow home ;-
Repentant enemies, and friends that grieve
In self-upbraiding tenderness, and say,
"Cold was the love he did from us receive,"
The fleeting, restless spirits of a day,
All to their dread account are pass'd away.
LVII.
Silence, solemn, awful, deep,
Doth in that hall of death her empire keep;
Save when at times the hollow pavement smote
By solitary wanderer's foot, amain
From lofty dome, and arch, and aisle remote
A circling loud response receives again.
The stranger starts to hear the growing sounds,
And sees the blazon'd trophies waving near ;-
"Ha! tread my feet so near that sacred ground!"
He stops and bows his head :-" Columbus resteth
Sounds like the rocking of his lofty mast;
While fitful gusts rave like his clamorous band,
Mix'd with the accents of his high command.
Slowly the stripling quits the pensive scene,
And, death confronting, combat by his side; Will share with equal wisdom grave debate, And all the cares of chieftain, kingly state? Ay, such, I trow, in female form hath been
And burns, and sighs, and weeps to be what he has Of olden times, and may again be seen,
O! who shall lightly say that fame
Is nothing but an empty name!
Whilst in that sound there is a charm
The nerve to brace, the heart to warm,
As, thinking of the mighty dead,
The young, from slothful couch will start,
And vow with lifted hands outspread,
Like them to act a noble part?
O! who shall lightly say that fame
Is nothing but an empty name!
When, but for those, our mighty dead,
All ages past, a blank would be,
Sunk in oblivion's murky bed,-
A desert bare, a shipless sea?
They are the distant objects seen,—
The lofty marks of what hath been.
O! who shall lightly say that fame
Is nothing but an empty name!
Then memory of the mighty dead
To earth-worn pilgrim's wistful eye
When cares of empire or strong impulse swell
The generous breast, and to high deeds impel;
For who can these as meaner times upbraid,
Who think of Saragossa's valiant maid?
But she of gentler nature, softer, dearer,
Of daily life, the active, kindly cheerer;
With generous bosom, age, or childhood shielding,
And in the storms of life, though moved, unyield-
Strength in her gentleness, hope in her sorrow,
Whose darkest hours some ray of brightness borrow
From better days to come, whose meek devotion
Calms every wayward passion's wild commotion;
In want and suffering, soothing, useful, sprightly,
Bearing the press of evil hap so lightly,
Till evil's self seems its strong hold betraying
To the sweet witchery of such winsome playing;
Bold from affection, if by nature fearful,
With varying brow, sad, tender, anxious, cheerful,--
This is meet partner for the loftiest mind,
With crown or helmet graced,-yea, this is woman-
kind!
Come ye, whose grateful memory retains
Dear recollection of her tender pains
To whom your oft-conn'd lesson, daily said,
With kiss and cheering praises was repaid;
With stealthy steps I gain'd the shade By the close-winding staircase made,
To gain whose smile, to shun whose mild rebuke,
Your irksome task was learnt in silent nook,
Though truant thoughts the while, your lot ex- And when the surly turnkey enter'd,
With freer elves, were wood and meadow ranging;-
And ye, who best the faithful virtues know
Of a link'd partner, tried in weal and wo,
Like the slight willow, now aloft, now bending,
But, still unbroken, with the blast contending,
Whose very look call'd virtuous vigour forth,
Compelling you to match her noble worth;
And ye, who in a sister's modest praise
Feel manly pride, and think of other days,
Pleased that the playmate of your native home
Hath in her prime an honour'd name become ;-
And ye, who in a duteous child have known
A daughter, helpmate, sister, bient in one,
From whose dear hand which, to no hireling leaves
Its task of love, your age sweet aid receives,
Who reckless marks youth's waning faded hue,
And thinks her bloom well spent, when spent foryou;
Come all, whose thoughts such dear remembrance
bear,
And to my short and faithful lay give ear.
Within a prison's hateful cell,
Where, from the lofty window fell,
Through grated bars, the sloping beam,
Defined, but faint, on couch of stone,
There sat a prisoner sad and lone,
Like the dim tenant of a dismal dream.
Deep in the shade, by low-arch'd door,
With iron nails thick studded o'er,
Whose threshold black is cross'd by those
Who here their earthly being close,
Or issue to the light again
A scaffold with their blood to stain,-
Moved something softly. Wistful ears
Are quick of sense, and from his book
The prisoner raised his eyes with eager look,
"Is it a real form that through the gloom appears?"
It was indeed of flesh and blood,
The form that quickly by him stood;
Of stature low, of figure light,
In motion like some happy sprite;
Yet meaning eyes and varying cheek,
Now red, now pale, seem'd to bespeak
Of riper years the cares and feeling
Which with a gentle heart were dealing.
"Such sense in eyes so simply mild !
Is it a woman or a child?
Who art thou, damsel sweet? are not mine eyes beguiled?"
"No; from the Redbraes' tower I come;
My father is Sir Patrick Hume;
And he has sent me for thy good,
His dearly honour'd Jerviswood.
Long have I round these walls been straying
As if with other children playing;
Long near the gate have kept my watch
The sentry's changing time to catch.
But little dreaming in his mind
Who follow'd him so close behind,
Into this darken'd cell, with beating heart, I ventured."
Then from the timple vest that braced
Her gentle breast, a letter traced
With well-known characters, she took,
And with an eager, joyful look
Her eyes up to his visage cast,
His changing countenance to scan,
As o'er the lines his keen glance pass'd.
She saw a faint glow tinge the sickly wan;
She saw his eyes through teardrops raise
To heaven their look of silent praise,
And hopes fresh touch undoing lines of care
Which stress of evil times had deeply graven there.
Mean while, the joy of sympathy to trace
Upon her innocent and lovely face
Had to the sternest, darkest skeptic given
Some love of human kind, some faith in righteous
Heaven.
What blessings on her youthful head
Were by the grateful patriot shed,
(For such he was, good and devoted,
And had at risk of life promoted
His country's freedom and her faith,
Nor reckoning made of worldly skathe,)
How warm, confiding, and sincere,
He gave to her attentive ear
The answer which her cautious sire
Did to his secret note require :-
How after this with 'quiries kind,
He ask'd for all she left behind
In Redbraes' tower, her native dwelling,
And set her artless tongue a-telling,
Which urchin dear had tallest grown,
And which the greatest learning shown,
Of lesson, sermon, psalm, and note,
And Sabbath questions learnt by rote,
And merry tricks and gambols play'd
By evening fire, and forfeits paid,—
I will not here rehearse, nor will I say,
How, on that bless'd and long-remember'd day,
The prisoner's son, deserving such a sire,
First saw the tiny maid, and did admire,
That one so young, and wise, and good, and fair,
Should be an earthly thing that breathed this nether
air.
E'en let my reader courteously suppose,
That from this visit happier days arose;
Suppose the prisoner from his thraldom freed.
And with our lay proceed.
The damsel, glad her mission'd task was done
Back to her home long since had blithely gone;
And there remain'd, a meek and duteous child
Where useful toil, with play between,
And pastime on the sunny green,
The weeks and months of passing years beguiled.
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