“ Thee hath it pleased— Thy will be done!” he said,
Then sought his cabin; and, their garments spread,
Around him lay the sleeping as the dead,
When, by his lamp, to that mysterious Guide,
On whose still counsels all his hopes relied,
That Oracle to man in mercy given,
Whose voice is truth, whose wisdom is from heaven,
Who over sands and seas directs the stray,
And, as with God's own finger, points the way,
He turned; but what strange thoughts perplexed his soul,
When, lo, no more attracted to the Pole,
The Compass, faithless as the circling vane,
Fluttered and fixed, fluttered and fixed again!
At length, as by some unseen Hand imprest,
It sought with trembling energy the West!*
“ Ah no!” he cried, and calmed his anxious brow.
“ Ill, nor the signs of ill, 'tis thine to show ;
Thine but to lead me where I wished to go!"
COLUMBUS erred not. In that awful hour,
Sent forth to save, and girt with God-like power,
And glorious as the regent of the sun, t
An Angel came! He spoke, and it was done!
He spoke, and, at his call, a mighty Wind,
Not like the fitful blast, with fury blind,
But deep, majestic, in its destined course,
Sprung with unerring, unrelenting force,
* Herrera, dec. I. lib. i. c. 9.