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And you, ye birds, winging your passage home,
How blest ye are !-We know not where we roam.
We go," they cried, "go to return no more!
Nor ours, alas, the transport to explore
A human footstep on a desert shore!"

-Still, as beyond this mortal life impell'd
By some mysterious energy, He held
His everlasting course. Still self-possess'd,
High on the deck He stood, disdaining rest;
(His amber chain the only badge he bore,'
His mantle blue such as his fathers wore)
Fathom'd, with searching hand, the dark profound,
And scatter'd hope and glad assurance round;
Though, like some strange portentous dream, the past
Still hover'd, and the cloudless sky o'ercast.

At day-break might the Caravels 2 be seen,
Chasing their shadows o'er the deep serene;
Their burnish'd prows lash'd by the sparkling tide,
Their green-cross standards waving far and wide.
And now once more to better thoughts inclined,
The seaman, mounting, clamor'd in the wind.
The soldier (24) told his tales of love and war;
The courtier sung-sung to his gay guitar.
Round, at Primero, sate a whisker'd band;
So Fortune smiled, careless of sea or land! (25)
Leon, Montalvan (serving side by side;

Two with one soul-and, as they lived, they died),
Vasco the brave, thrice found among the slain,
Thrice, and how soon, up and in arms again,
As soon to wish he had been sought in vain,
Chain'd down in Fez, beneath the bitter thong,
To the hard bench and heavy oar so long!
Albert of Florence, who, at twilight-time,
In my rapt ear pour'd Dante's tragic rhyme,
Screen'd by the sail as near the mast we lay,
Our nights illumined by the ocean-spray;
And Manfred, who espoused with jewell'd ring
Young Isabel, then left her sorrowing:
Lerma "the generous," Avila "the proud;"
Velasquez, Garcia, through the echoing crowd
Traced by their mirth-from Ebro's classic shore,
From golden Tajo, to return no more!

CANTO V.

The Voyage continued.

YET Who but He undaunted could explore (26)
A world of waves, a sea without a shore,
Trackless and vast and wild as that reveal'd

When round the Ark the birds of tempest wheel'd;
When all was still in the destroying hour-
No sign of man! no vestige of his power!
One at the stern before the hour-glass stood,
As 't were to count the sands; one o'er the flood
Gazed for St. Elmo; while another cried
"Once more good-morrow!" and sate down
sigh'd.

Then sunk his generous spirit, and he wept.
The friend, the father rose; the hero slept.
Palos, thy port, with many a pang resign'd,
Fill'd with its busy scenes his lonely mind;
The solemn march, the vows in concert given, (27)
The bended knees and lifted hands to heaven,
The incensed rites, and choral harmonies,
The Guardian's blessings mingling with his sighs;
While his dear boys-ah, on his neck they hung, (28)
And long at parting to his garments clung.

Oft in the silent night-watch doubt and fear
Broke in uncertain murmurs on his ear.
Oft the stern Catalan, at noon of day,
Mutter'd dark threats, and linger'd to obey;
Though that brave Youth-he, whom his courser
bore

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Right through the midst, when, fetlock-deep in gore
The great Gonzalo (29) battled with the Moor
(What time the Alhambra shook-soon to unfold
Its sacred courts, and fountains yet untold,
Its holy texts and arabesques of gold),
Though Roldan, (30) sleep and death to him alike,
Grasp'd his good sword and half unsheathed to strike
"Oh born to wander with your flocks," he cried,
And bask and dream along the mountain-side;
To urge your mules, tinkling from hill to hill;
Or at the vintage-feast to drink your fill,
And strike your castanets, with gipsy-maid
Dancing Fandangos in the chesnut shade-
Come on," he cried, and threw his glove in scorn,
'Not this your wonted pledge, the brimming horn,
Valiant in peace! adventurous at home!
Oh, had ye vow'd with pilgrim-staff to roam;
Or with banditti sought the sheltering wood,
Where mouldering crosses mark the scene of blood!—'
He said, he drew; then, at his Master's frown,
Sullenly sheathed, plunging the weapon down.

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CANTO VI.

The flight of an Angel of Darkness.
WAR with the Great in War let others sing,
Havoc and spoil, and tears and triumphing,
The morning-march that flashes to the sun,
The feast of vultures when the day is done;
And the strange tale of many slain for one!
I sing a Man, amidst his sufferings here,
Who watch'd and served in humbleness and fear,
Gentle to others, to himself severe.

Still unsubdued by Danger's varying form,
Still, as unconscious of the coming storm,
He look'd elate; and, with his wonted smile,
On the great Ordnance leaning, would beguile
The hour with talk. His beard, his mien sublime,
and Shadow'd by Age-by Age before the time,'
From many a sorrow borne in many a clime,
Moved every heart. And now in opener skies
Stars yet unnamed of purer radiance rise!
Stars, milder suns, that love a shade to cast,
And on the bright wave fling the trembling mast!
Another firmament! the orbs that roll,

Day, when it came, came only with its light;
Though long invoked, 't was sadder than the night!
Look where He would, for ever as He turn'd,
He met the eye of one that inly mourn'd.

1 F. Columbus, c. 32.

2 Light vessels, formerly used by the Spaniards and Portu- Singly or clustering, round the Southern pole'

guese.

3 F. Columbus, c. 23.

4 Many such appellations occur in Bernal Diaz. c. 204.

5 A luminous appearance of good omen.

Nor yet the four that glorify the Night—

1 F. Col. c 3.

Ah, how forget when to my ravish'd sight
The Cross shone forth in everlasting light! (31)

"I was the mid hour, when He, whose accents dread,
Still wander'd through the regions of the dead,
(Merion, commission'd with his host to sweep
From age to age the melancholy deep)
To elude the seraph-guard that watch'd for man,
And mar, as erst, the Eternal's perfect plan,
Rose like the Condor, and, at towering height,
In pomp of plumage sail'd,deep'ning the shades of night.
Roc of the West! to him all empire given! (32)
Who bears Axalhua's dragon-folds to heaven; (33)
His flight a whirlwind, and, when heard afar,
Like thunder, or the distant din of war!

Mountains and seas fled backward as he pass'd
O'er the great globe, by not a cloud o'ercast
From the Antarctic, from the Land of Fire1
To where Alaska's wintry wilds retire; (34)
From mines of gold, (35) and giant-sons of earth,
To grots of ice, and tribes of pigmy birth
Who freeze alive, nor, dead, in dust repose,
High-hung in forests to the casing snows. (36)
Now 'mid angelic multitudes he flies,

That hourly come with blessings from the skies;
Wings the blue element, and, borne sublime,
Eyes the set sun, gilding each distant clime;
Then, like a meteor, shooting to the main,
Melts into pure intelligence again.

CANTO VII.

A mutiny excited.

WHAT though Despondence reign'd, and wild

Affright

Stretch'd in the midst, and, through that dismal night, (37)

By his white plume reveal'd and buskins white, (38)
Slept Roldan. When he closed his gay career,
Hope fled for ever, and with Hope fled Fear.
Blest with each gift indulgent Fortune sends,
Birth and its rights, wealth and its train of friends,
Star-like he shone! Now beggar'd and alone,
Danger he woo'd, and claim'd her for his own.

O'er him a Vampire his dark wings display'd. (39)|
"T was Merion's self, covering with dreadful shade: (40)
He came, and, couch'd on Roldan's ample breast,
Each secret pore of breathing life possess'd,
Fanning the sleep that seem'd his final rest;
Then, inly gliding (41) like a subtle flame,
Subdued the man, and from his thrilling frame
Sent forth the voice! "We live, we breathe no more!
The fatal wind blows on the dreary shore!
On yonder cliffs beckoning their fellow-prey,
The spectres stalk, and murmur at delay!
-Yet if thou canst (not for myself I plead!
Mine but to follow where 't is thine to lead)
Oh turn and save! To thee, with streaming eyes,
To thee each widow kneels, each orphan cries!
Who now, condemn'd the lingering hours to tell,
Think and but think of those they loved so well!"
All melt in tears! but what can tears avail?
These climb the mast, and shift the swelling sail.
These snatch the helm; and round me now I hear
Smiting of hands, outcries of grief and fear,

1 Tierra del Fuego.

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(That in the aisles at midnight haunt me still,
Turning my lonely thoughts from good to ill)
"Were there no graves—none in our land," they cry,
That thou hast brought us on the deep to die?"
Silent with sorrow, long within his cloak
His face he muffled-then the Hero spoke.
"Generous and brave! when God himself is here,
Why shake at shadows in your mid career?
He can suspend the laws himself design'd,
He walks the waters, and the winged wind;
Himself your guide! and yours the high behest,
To lift your voice, and bid a world be blest!
And can you shrink? (42) to you, to you consign'd
The glorious privilege to serve mankind!
Oh had I perish'd, when my failing frame (43)
Clung to the shatter'd oar 'mid wrecks of flame!
-Was it for this I linger'd life away,

The scorn of Folly, and of Fraud the prey; (44)
Bow'd down my mind, the gift His bounty gave,
At courts a suitor, and to slaves a slave?
-Yet in His name whom only we should fear,
("T is all, all I shall ask, or you shall hear),
Grant but three days."-He spoke not uninspired ; (45)
And each in silence to his watch retired.

At length among us came an unknown Voice! "Go, if ye will; and, if ye can, rejoice.

Go, with unbidden guests the banquet share ;
In his own shape shall Death receive you there."(46)

CANTO VIII.

Land discovered.

TWICE in the zenith blazed the orb of light;
No shade, all sun, insufferably bright!
Then the long line found rest-in coral gro 7es
Silent and dark, where the sea-lion roves :-
And all on deck, kindling to life again,
Sent forth their anxious spirits o'er the main.

"Oh whence, as wafted from Elysium, whence
These perfumes, strangers to the raptured sense?
These boughs of gold, and fruits of heavenly hue.
Tinging with vermeil light the billows blue?
And (thrice, thrice blessed is the eye that spied,
The hand that snatch'd it sparkling in the tide)
Whose cunning carved this vegetable bowl,'
Symbol of social rites, and intercourse of soul?"
Such to their grateful ear the gush of springs,
Who course the ostrich, as away she wings;
Sons of the desert! who delight to dwell
'Mid kneeling camels round the sacred well;
Who, ere the terrors of his pomp be past,
Fall to the demon in the redd'ning blast.2

The sails were furl'd: with many a melting close, Solemn and slow the evening-anthem rose, Rose to the Virgin. (47) "T was the hour of day, When setting suns o'er summer-seas display A path of glory, opening in the west To golden climes, and islands of the blest; And human voices, on the silent air, Went o'er the waves in songs of gladness there! Chosen of Men! (48) 't was thine, at noon of night, First from the prow to hail the glimmering light; (49)

1 Ex ligno lucido confectum, et arte mira laboratum. P. Mar tyr, dec. i, 5. 2 The Simoom.

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(Emblem of Truth divine, whose secret ray Enters the soul, and makes the darkness day!) 'Pedro! Rodrigo! (50) there, methought it shone! There-in tue west! and now, alas, 'tis gone!— "T was all a dream! we gaze and gaze in vain! -But mark, and speak not, there it comes again! It moves!-what form unseen, what being there With torch-like lustre fires the murky air? His instincts, passions, say how like our own! Oh! when will day reveal a world unknown?"

CANTO IX.

The New World.

LONG on the wave the morning mists reposed, Then broke-and, melting into light, disclosed Half-circling hills, whose everlasting woods Sweep with their sable skirts the shadowy floods: And say, when all, to holy transport given, Embraced and wept as at the gates of Heaven, When one and all of us, repentant, ran, And, on our faces, bless'd the wondrous Man; Say, was I then deceived, or from the skies Burst on my ear seraphic harmonies ? "Glory to God!" unnumber'd voices sung, "Glory to God!" the vales and mountains rung, Voices that hail'd Creation's primal morn, And to the Shepherds sung a Savior born.

Slowly, bare-headed, through the surf we bore The sacred cross, (51) and, kneeling, kiss'd the shore. But what a scene was there! (52) Nymphs of romance, (53)

Youths graceful as the Faun, with eager glance, Spring from the glades, and down the alleys peep, Then headlong rush, bounding from steep to steep, And clap their hands, exclaiming as they run,

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Come and behold the Children of the Sun!" When hark, a signal-shot! The voice, it came Over the sea in darkness and in flame! They saw, they heard; and up the highest hill, As in a picture, all at once were still! Creatures so fair, in garments strangely wrought, From citadels, with Heaven's own thunder fraught, Check'd their light footsteps-statue-like, they stood, As worshipp'd forms, the Genii of the Wood!

At length the spell dissolves! The warrior's lance Rings on the tortoise with wild dissonance! And see, the regal plumes, the couch of state! (54) Still, where it moves, the wise in council wait! See now borne forth the monstrous mask of gold,' And ebon chair' of many a serpent-fold; These now exchanged for gifts that thrice surpass The wondrous ring, and lamp, and horse of brass. (55) What long-drawn tube (56) transports the gazer home, Kindling with stars at noon the ethereal dome ? "Tis here: and here circles of solid light 2 Charm with another self the cheated sight; As man to man another self disclose,

That now with terror starts, with triumph glows!

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CANTO X.

Cora-luxuriant Vegetation-the Humming-bird-the Fountain of Youth.

THEN Cora came, the youngest of her race,
And in her hands she hid her lovely face;
Yet oft by stealth a timid glance she cast,
And now with playful step the Mirror pass'd,
Each bright reflection brighter than the last!
And oft behind it flew, and oft before;

The more she search'd, pleased and perplex'd the more!
And look'd and laugh'd, and blush'd with quick sur-

prise;

Her lips all mirth, all ecstasy her eyes!

But soon the telescope attracts her view;
And lo, her lover in his light canoe
Rocking, at noon-tide, on the silent sea,
Before her lies! It cannot, cannot be.
Late as he left the shore, she linger'd there,
Till, less and less, he melted into air!-
Sigh after sigh steals from her gentle frame,
And said that murmur-was it not his name?
She turns, and thinks; and, lost in wild amaze,
Gazes again, and could for ever gaze!

Nor can thy flute, Alonso, now excite,
As in Valencia, when, with fond delight,
Francisca, waking, to the lattice flew,
So soon to love and to be wretched too!
Hers through a convent-grate to send her last adieu.
Yet who now comes uncall'd; and round and round,
And near and nearer flutters to its sound;
Then stirs not, breathes not-on enchanted ground?
Who now lets fall the flowers she cull'd to wear
When he, who promised, should at eve be there;
And faintly smiles, and hangs her head aside
The tear that glistens on her cheek to hide!
Ah, who but Cora ?-till inspired, possess'd,
At once she springs and clasps it to her breast!

Soon from the bay the mingling crowd ascends, Kindred first met! by sacred instinct Friends! Through citron groves, and fields of yellow maize, (57) Through plantain-walks where not a sun-beam plays, There forests frown in midnight majesty; Here blue savannas fade into the sky, Ceiba, (58) and Indian fig, and plane sublime, Nature's first-born, and reverenced by Time! There sits the bird that speaks! (59) there, quivering

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"Twas he that sung, if ancient Fame speaks truth Come! follow, follow to the Fount of Youth!

I quaff the ambrosial mists that round it rise,
Dissolved and lost in dreams of Paradise!"
For there call'd forth, to bless a happier hour,
It met the sun in many a rainbow-shower!
Murmuring delight, its living waters roll'd
'Mid branching palms and amaranths of gold! (64)

CANTO XI.

Evening-a banquet-the ghost of Cazziva.
THE tamarind closed her leaves; the marmoset
Dream'd on his bough, and play'd the mimic yet.
Fresh from the lake the breeze of twilight blew,
And vast and deep the mountain-shadows
grew;
When many a fire-fly, shooting through the glade,
Spangled the locks of many a lovely maid,
Who now danced forth to strew our path with flowers,
And hymn our welcome to celestial bowers.'

There odorous lamps adorn'd the festal rite,
And guavas blush'd as in the vales of light. (65)
There silent sat many an unbidden Guest, (66)
Whose stedfast looks a secret dread impress'd;
Not there forgot the sacred fruit that fed
At nightly feasts the Spirits of the Dead,
Mingling in scenes that mirth to mortals give,
But by their sadness known from those that live.

There met, as erst, within the wonted grove,
Unmarried girls and youths that died for love!
Sons now beheld their ancient sires again,
And sires, alas, their sons in battle slain! (67)
But whence that sigh? "T was from a heart that
broke!

And whence that voice? As from the grave it spoke!
And who, as unresolved the feast to share,
Sits half-withdrawn in faded splendor there?
"T is he of yore, the warrior and the sage,
Whose lips have moved in prayer from age to age;
Whose eyes, that wander'd as in search before,
Now on Columbus fix'd-to search no more!
Cazziva, (68) gifted in his day to know
The gathering signs of a long night of woe;
Gifted by those who give but to enslave;
No rest in death! no refuge in the grave!
-With sudden spring as at the shout of war,
He flies! and, turning in his flight, from far
Glares through the gloom like some portentous star!
Unseen, unheard!-Hence, Minister of Ill! (69)
Hence, 't is not yet the hour! though come it will!
They that foretold-too soon shall they fulfil; (70)
When forth they rush as with the torrent's sweep, (71)
And deeds are done that make the Angels weep!

Hark, o'er the busy mead the shell' proclaims
Triumphs, and masques, and high heroic games.
And now the old sit round; and now the young
Climb the green boughs, the murmuring doves among.
Who claims the prize, when winged feet contend;
When twanging bows the flaming arrows send?
Who stands self-centred in the field of fame,
And, grappling, flings to earth a giant's frame?
Whilst all, with anxious hearts and eager eyes,
Bend as he bends, and, as he rises, rise!
And Cora's self, in pride of beauty here,
Trembles with grief and joy, and hope and fear!
(She who, the fairest, ever flew the first,
With cup of balm to quench his burning thirst;
Knelt at his head, her fan-leaf in her hand,
And humm'd the air that pleased him, while she fann'd)
How blest his lot!-though, by the muse unsung,
His name shall perish, when his knell is rung.

1 P. Martyr, dec. i, 5.

3 Rochefort, c. xx.

2 P. Martyr, dec. iii, c. 7.

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Twice the moon fill'd her silver urn with light,
Then from the Throne an Angel wing'd his flight.
He, who unfix'd the compass, and assign'd
O'er the wild waves a pathway to the wind;
Who, while approach'd by none but Spirits pure,
Wrought, in his progress through the dread obscure,
Signs like the ethereal bow-that shall endure! (73)
As he descended through the upper air,
Day broke on day as God himself were there!
Before the great Discoverer, laid to rest,
He stood, and thus his secret soul address'd: (74)
"The wind recalls thee; its still voice obey,
Millions await thy coming; hence, away!
To thee blest tidings of great joy consign'd,
Another Nature, and a new Mankind!
The vain to dream, the wise to doubt shall cease;
Young men be glad, and old depart in peace!
Hence! though assembling in the fields of air,
Now, in a night of clouds, thy Foes prepare
To rock the glob with elemental wars,
And dash the floods of ocean to the stars; (75)
To bid the meek repine, the valiant weep,
And Thee restore thy Secret to the Deep! (76)

"Not then to leave Thee! to their vengeance cast, Thy heart their aliment, their dire repast! 2

*

To other eyes shall Mexico unfold
Her feather'd tapestries, and roofs of gold.
To other eyes, from distant cliff descried, (77)
Shall the Pacific roll his ample tide;
There destined soon rich argosies to ride.
Chains thy reward! beyond the Atlantic wave
Hung in thy chamber, buried in thy grave! (78)
Thy reverend form, (79) to time and grief a prey
A phantom wandering in the light of day!

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What though thy grey hairs to the dust descena,
Their scent shall track thee, track thee to the end:
Thy sons reproach'd with their great father's fame.
And on his world inscribed another's name!
Where groans burst forth, and tears in torrents flow
That world a prison-house, full of sights of woe,

1 P. Martyr, Epist. 133, 152.

2 See the Eumenides of Eschylus, v 305 etc.

3 Clavigero, VII. 52.

4 See the Eumenides, v. 246

These gardens of the sun, sacred to song,
By dogs of carnage, (80) howling loud and long,
Swept-till the voyager, in the desert air, (81)
Starts back to hear his alter' accents there! (82)

"Not thine the olive, but the sword to bring,
Not peace, but war! Yet from these shores shall spring
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, (83)
Arts to adorn, and arms but to defend.
Assembling here, (84) all nations shall be blest;
The sad be comforted, the weary rest:
Untouch'd shall drop the fetters from the slave; (85)
And He shall rule the world he died to save!

"Hence, and rejoice. The glorious work is done.
A spark is thrown that shall eclipse the sun!
And though bad men shall long thy course pursue,
As erst the ravening brood o'er chaos flew,2
He, whom I serve, shall vindicate his reign;

The spoiler spoil'd of all; (86) the slayer slain; (87)
The tyrant's self, oppressing and opprest,
'Mid gems and gold unenvied and unblest: (88)
While to the starry sphere thy name shall rise,
(Not there unsung thy generous enterprise!)
Thine in all hearts to dwell-by Fame enshrined,
With those the Few, that live but for Mankind:
Thine evermore, transcendant happiness!
World beyond world to visit and to bless."

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."3

The waves were rough; the hour was late,
But soon across the Tinto borne,
Thrice he blew the signal-horn,
He blew and would not wait.

Home by his dangerous path he went;
Leaving, in rich habiliment,

Two Strangers at the Convent-gate.
They ascended by steps hewn out in the rock; and,
baving asked for admittance, were lodged there.
Brothers in arms the Guests appear'd;
The Youngest with a Princely grace!
Short and sable was his beard,
Thoughtful and wan his face.
His velvet cap a medal bore.

And ermine fringed his broider'd vest;
And, ever sparkling on his breast,
An image of St. John he wore.4

'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 nis white hat and white shoes glittered in the moonshine."

See Washington's farewell-address to his fellow-citizens. 2 See Paradise Lost, X. 3 The Convent of Rabida. 4 See Bernal Diaz, c. 203; and also a well-known portrait of Cortes, ascribed to Titian. Cortes was now in the 43d, Pizarro the 60th year of his age 5 Augustin, Zarate, lib. iv, c. 9.

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When other sounds had died away,
And the waves were heard alone,
They enter'd, though unused to pray,
Where God was worshipp'd, night and day,
And the dead knelt round in stone;
They enter'd, and from aisle to aisle
Wander'd with folded arms awhile,
Where on his altar-tomb (89) reclined
The crosier'd Abbot; and the Knight
In harness for the Christian fight,
His hands in supplication join'd;—
Then said as in a solemn mood,
"Now stand we where Columbus stood!"

*

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The supper in the chamber done,
Much of a Southern Sea they spake,
And of that glorious city 4 won
Near the setting of the Sun,
Throned in a silver lake;

Of seven kings in chains of gold,"

And deeds of death by tongue untold,
Deeds such as, breathed in secret there,
Had shaken the Confession-chair!

The Eldest swore by our Lady, the Youngest by his conscience;" while the Franciscan, sitting by in his grey habit, turned away and crossed himself again and again. "Here is a little book," said he at last, "the work of him in his shroud below. It tells of things you have mentioned; and, were Cortes and Pizarro here, it might perhaps make them reflect for a moment." The youngest smiled as he took it into his hand. He read it aloud to his companion with an unfaltering voice; but, when he laid it down, a silence ensued; nor was he seen to smile again that night. "The curse is heavy," said he at parting, but Cortes may live to disappoint it."—" Ay, and Pizarro too!"

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A circumstance, recorded by Herrera, renders this visit not improbable. "In May 1528, Cortes arrived unexpectedly at Palos; and, soon after he had landed, he and Pizarro met and rejoiced; and it was remarkable that they should meet, as they were two of the most renowned men in the world." B. Diaz makes no mention of the interview; but, relating an occurrence that took place at this time in Palos, says, "that Cortes was now absent at Nuestra Senora de la Rábida." The Convent is within half a league of the town.

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