MANUEL JOSÈ QUINTANA.
TO THE SPANISH EXPEDITION FOR THE PROMOTION OF VACCINATION IN AMERICA, UNDER DON FRANCISCO BALMIS.
Fair Virgin of the world, America!
Thou who so innocent to heaven display’st
Thy bosom stored with plenty’s rich array,
And brow of gentle youth! Thou, who so graced
The tenderest and most lovely of the zones
Of mother Earth to shine, shouldst be of fate
The sweet delight and favour’d love it owns,
That but pursues thee with relentless hate,
Hear me! If ever was a time mine eyes,
When scanning thy eventful history,
Did not burst forth in tears; if could thy cries
My heart e’er hear unmoved, from pity free
And indignation; then let me disclaim’d
Of virtue be eternally as held,
And barbarous and wicked be one named
As those who with such ruin thee assail’d.
In the eternal book of life are borne,
Written in blood, those cries, which then sent forth
Thy lips to Heaven, such fury doom’d to mourn,
And yet against my country call in wrath.
Forbidding glory and success attend
The fatal field of crimes. Will they ne’er cease?
Will not the bitter expiation end
Sufficed of three eventful centuries?
We are not now those who on daring’s wing,
Before the world, the Atlantic’s depths disdain’d,
And from the silence found thee covering,
That fiercely tore thee, bleeding and enchain’d!
“No, ye are not the same. But my lament
Is not for this to cease: I could forget
The rigours which my conquerors relent,
Their avarice with cruelties beset:
The crime was of the age, and not of Spain.
But when can I forget the evils sore
Which I must miserably yet sustain?
Among them one, come, see what I deplore,
If horror will not you deter. From you,
Your fatal ships first launch’d, the mortal pest,
The poison that now desolates me flew.
As in doom’d plains by ruthless foes oppress’d,
As serpent that incessantly devours,
So ever from your coming, to consume
Has it raged o’er me. See here, how it lowers!
And in the hidden place of death and gloom,
Buries my children and my loves. Affords
Your skill no remedy? O! ye, who call
Yourselves as of America the lords,
Have pity on my agony. See, fall
Beneath your insane fury, not sufficed
One generation, but a hundred slain!
And I expiring, desolate, unprized,
Beseech assistance, and beseech in vain.”
Such were the cries that to Olympus rose,
When in the fields of Albion found remote,
Variola’s fell havocs to oppose,
Kind Nature show’d the happy antidote.
The docile mother of the herd was found
Enrich’d with this great gift; there stored attent
Where from her copious milky founts around
She gives so many life and aliment.
Jenner to mortals first the gift reveal’d:
Thenceforward mothers to their hearts could press
Their children without fear to lose them heal’d;
Nor fear’d thenceforward in her loveliness
The maiden, lest the fatal venom spoil
Her cheek of roses, or her brow of snow.
All Europe then is join’d in grateful toil,
For gift so precious and immense to know,
In praises loud to echo Jenner’s name;
And altars to his skill to raise decrees,
There to long ages hallowing his fame,
Beside their tutelar divinities.
Of such a glory at the radiant light,
With noble emulation fill’d his breast,
A Spaniard rose,—“Let not my country slight,”
He cried, “on such a great occasion’s test,
Her ancient magnanimity to employ.
’Tis fortune’s gift discovering it alone;
That let an Englishman his right enjoy.
Let Spain’s sublime and generous heart be shown,
Giving her majesty more honour true,
By carrying this treasure to the lands
Which most the evil’s dire oppressions knew.
There, for I feel a deity commands,
There will I fly, and of the raging wave
Will brave in bearing it the furious strife;
America’s infested plains to save
From death, as planting there the tree of life.”
He spoke, and scarcely from his burning lip
These echoes had beneficently flowed,
When floating in the port, prepared the ship,
To give commencement to so blest a road,
Moved spreading her white canvas to the air.
On his fate launch’d himself the aëronaut.
Waves of the sea, in favouring calmness bear,
As sacred, this deposit to be brought
Through your serene and liquid fields. There goes
Of thousand generations long the hope;
Nor whelm it, nor let thunder it oppose;
Arrest the lightning, with no storms to cope,
Stay them until that from those fertile shores
Come forth the prows, triumphant in their pride,
That fraught remote with all their golden stores,
With vice and curses also come allied.
Honour to Balmis! O, heroic soul!
That in such noble toil devotest thy breath,
Go fearless to thy end. The dreadful roll
Of ocean always hoarse, and threatening death;
The fearful whirlpool’s all-devouring throat,
The cavern’d rock’s black face, where dash’d by fate,
Break the wreck’d barks, the dangers they denote
Greatest are not most cruel thee that wait.
From man expect them! Impious, envious man,
In error wrapped and blind, will prove him bent,
When hush’d against thee is the hurricane,
To combat rough the generous intent.
But firmly and secure press forward on;
And hold in mind, when comes for strife the day,
That without constant, anxious toil, can none
Hope glory’s palms to seize, and bear away.
At length thou comest; America salutes
Her benefactor, and at once her veins
The destined balm to purify deputes.
A further generous ardour then regains
Thy breast; and thou, obedient to the hand
Divine that leads thee, turn’st the sounding prow
Where Ganges rolls, and every Eastern land
The gift may take. The Southern Ocean now
Astonished sees thee, o’er her mighty breast
Untiring passing. Luzon thee admires,
Good always sowing on thy road impress’d:
And as it China’s toilsome shore acquires,
Confucius from his tomb of honour’d fame,
If could his venerable form arise,
To see it in glad wonder might exclaim,
“’Twas worthy of my virtue, this emprise!”
Right worthy was it of thee, mighty sage!
Worthy of that divine and highest light,
Which reason and which virtue erst array’d
To shine in happier days, now quench’d in night.
Thou, Balmis! never mayst return; nor grows
In Europe now the sacred laurel meet
With which to crown thee. There in calm repose,
Where peace and independence a retreat
May find, there rest thee! where thou mayst receive
At length the august reward of deeds so blest.
Nations immense shall come for thee to grieve,
Raising in grateful hymns to Heaven address’d
Thy name with fervorous zeal. And though now laid
In the cold tomb’s dark precincts thou refuse
To hear them, listen to them thus convey’d
At least, as in the accents of my Muse.
ON THE BATTLE OF TRAFALGAR.
Not with an easy hand wills Fate to give
Nations, or heroes, power and renown:
Triumphant Rome, whose empire to receive
A hemisphere submissively bow’d down,
Yielding itself in silent servitude,
How often did she vanquish’d groan? repell’d
As she her course of loftiness pursued!
Her ground to Hannibal she scarcely held;
Italian blood of Trevia the sands,
And wavy Thrasymenus deeply dyed,
And Roman matrons the victorious bands
Of Cannæ nigh approaching them descried,
As some portentous comet fearful lower.
Who drove them thence? Who from the Capitol
Turn’d on the throne, that founded Dido’s power,
The clouds that threaten’d then o’er them to roll?
Who in the fields of Zama, from the yoke
They fear’d, with direful slaughter to set free,
At length the sceptre of great Carthage broke,
With which she held her sovereignty, the sea?
Unswerving courage! that alone the shield
That turns adversity’s sharp knife aside:
To joy turns sorrow; bids despair to yield
To glory, and of fortune learns to guide
The dubious whirlwind, victory in its train;
For a high-minded race commands its fate.
O, Spain! my country! covering thy domain,
The mourning shows how great thy suffering state;
But still hope on, and with undaunted brow,
From base dejection free, behold the walls
Of thy own lofty Gades, which avow
Thy strength, though fate them now awhile appals;
Which though affrighted, blushing in their shame,
As bathing them around the waves extend,
Yet loud thy sons’ heroic deeds proclaim,
Far on the sounding billows they defend.
[From the proud castled poop] that crowns his high
Indomitable ship, the Briton round
Look’d, on his power and glory to rely,
And boastful cried, “Companions renown’d!
See, there they come: new trophies to attain
Wait your unconquer’d arms; the feeble pines
That Spain prepares for her defence in vain:
Fate from our yoke exemption none assigns.
We are the sons of Neptune. Do they dare
To plough the waves before us? Call to mind
Aboukir’s memorable day! to share
Another such a triumph: let us find
One moment as sufficing us to come,
To conquer, and destroy them. Grant it me,
Kind fate! and let us crown’d with laurels home
Our wealthy Thames again returning see.”
He spoke, and spread his sails. With swimming prows
Opening the waves, they follow him elate,
[Conquerors of winds and waves.] With dauntless brow
The Spaniards view them, and in calmness wait,
Contemning their fierce arrogance, and high
Their bosoms beating with indignant rage.
Just anger! sacred ardour! “There come nigh
Those cruel foes, who hasten war to wage,
And spill our blood, when we reposed secure
Beneath the wings of peace. They who are led
By avarice vile; who friendship’s laws abjure;
Who in their endless tyranny o’erspread
Would hold condemn’d the seas; who to unite,
As brothers, pride and insolence of power
With treachery and rapacity delight;
Who”—but with mantle dark night brings the hour
To enwrap the world. Wandering round the shrouds
Are frightful shades, dire slaughter that portend
And fearful expectations raise. Through opening clouds
The day displays the field, where wildly blend
Fury and death; and horrid Mars the scene
Swells loud with shouts of war, upraised in air
His standard high. To answer intervene
From hollow brass the mortal roarings glare.
The echo thunders, and the waves resound,
Dashing themselves in rage to Afric’s shore:
In conflict fly the ships to ships around,
By rancour moved. Less violent its store
Of heap’d-up ice in mountains, the South Pole
Emits immense, loud thundering through the waves
To glide, and on the adventurous seaman roll.
Nor with less clamour loosen’d from their caves
Rush the black tempests, when the East and North,
Troubling the heavens enraged in furious war,
And dire encounter, all their strength put forth,
And shake the centre of the globe afar.
Thrice the fierce islander advanced to break
Our squadron’s wall, confiding in his might:
Thrice by the Spanish force repulsed, to shake
His hopes of victory he sees the fight.
Who shall depict his fury and his rage,
When with that flag before so proud he saw
The flag of Spain invincible engage?
’Tis not to skill or valour to o’erawe,
Solely he trusts to fortune for success.
Doubling his ships, redoubling them again,
From poop to prow, from side to side to press,
In an unequal fight is made sustain
Each Spanish ship a thousand, thousand fires;
And they with equal breath that death receive
So send it back. No, not to my desires,
If heaven would grant it me, could I achieve
The task that day’s heroic deeds to tell,
Not with a hundred tongues; hid from the sun
By smoke, Fame’s trumpet shall their praises swell,
And bronze and marble for their names be won.
At length the moment comes, when Death extends
His pale and horrid hand, to signalize
Great victims. Brave Alcedo to him bends,
And nobly Moyua, with Castanios, dies.
[And Alcalà, Churruca, also ye!]
Of Betis and Guipuzcoa the pride.
O! if Fate knew to spare, would it not be
Enough to soothe, upon your brows allied
Minerva’s olive with Mars’ laurels seen?
From your illustrious and inquiring mind
What could the world, or stars, their mysteries screen?
Of your great course the traces left behind
The Cyclades are full, nor less the seas
Of far America. How seeks to mourn,
New tears from her sad heart her grief to appease,
The widow’d land such heroes from her torn;
And still she sheds them o’er your cruel fate.
O! that ye two could live, and I in place
Of grief, of sorrowing song, to consecrate
To you the funeral accents that I raise,
Might have opposed my bosom to the stroke,
And thus my useless life my country give!
That I might thus your cruel lot revoke,
To bear the wounds, so that ye two might live!
And she might proudly raise her front anew,
Victorious crown’d with rays of glory bright,
Her course ’gainst arduous fortune to pursue,
Triumphant in your wisdom and your might.
[Yet fell ye not, ye generous squadrons!] there,
Without revenge and slaughter. Spreading wide,
Rivers of English blood your powers declare.
And Albion also horror-struck descried
Mountains of bodies weigh, a heavy pile,
On her so proud Armada. Nelson, too!
Terrible shade! O, think not, no, that vile
My voice to name thee, e’er an insult threw
On thy last sigh. As English I abhor,
But hero I admire thee. O, thy fate!
Of captive ships a crowd, the spoils of war,
The Thames awaits, and now exults elate
To hail with shouts the conqueror’s return!
But only pale and cold beholds her Chief!
Great lesson left for human pride to learn,
And worthy holocaust for Spanish grief.
Yet still the rage of Mars impels the arm
Of destiny; mow’d down unnumber’d lives.
By fury launch’d, voracious flames alarm;
On every side planks burning. Loosely drives
Each ship a fierce volcano; blazing high
Through the wide air ’tis raised, and thrown again
With horrid bursting in the seas to lie,
Engulf’d. Do other havocs yet remain?
Yes, for that Heaven, displeased to see such foes,
Bids the inclement north winds rise to part
The furious combatants, and day to close
In stormy night. ’Tis order’d, and athwart
They throw themselves the miserable barks,
Lashing the waves on high with cruel wings.
As each this new unequal combat marks
For ruin, falls the mast, and over swings
Trembling beneath the assault. The hulls divide,
And where the gaping seams the waves invite,
They enter, while the dying Spaniards cried,
“O! that we were to perish, but in fight!”
In that remorseless conflict, high in air,
Then shining forth their glorious forms display’d
The mighty champions, who of old to bear
The trident and the spear, supreme had made
Before the Iberian flag the nations bow.
There Lauria, Trovar, and Bazan were seen,
And Aviles, their brother heroes now
Of Spain to welcome, and in death convene.
“Come among us,” they cried, “among the brave
You emulate. Already you have gain’d
Your fair reward. The example that you gave
Of valour, Spain in constancy sustain’d
Her warriors shows, inciting to prepare
For other conflicts they undaunted greet.
Look to the city of Alcides! there
Gravina, Alavà, and Escanio meet!
Cisneros and a hundred more combine
There in firm column, with proud hopes to bless
Our native land. Come, fly ye here, and shine
In heaven their stars of glory, and success.”