THE VISION OF COLUMBUS.
The crimson sun was sinking down to rest,
Pavilioned on the cloudy verge of heaven;
And ocean, on her gently heaving breast,
Caught and flashed back the varying tints of even;
When, on a fragment from the tall cliff riven,
With folded arms, and doubtful thoughts opprest,
Columbus sat, till sudden hope was given—
A ray of gladness shooting from the West.
Oh, what a glorious vision for mankind
Then dawned upon the twilight of his mind;
Thoughts shadowy still, but indistinctly grand.
There stood his genie, face to face, and signed
(So legends tell) far seaward with her hand,
Till a new world sprang up, and bloomed beneath her wand.
He was a man whom danger could not daunt,
Nor sophistry perplex, nor pain subdue;
A stoic, reckless of the world's vain taunt,
And steeled the path of honor to pursue.
So, when by all deserted, still he knew
How best to soothe the heart-sick, or confront
Sedition; schooled with equal eye to view
The frowns of grief and the base pangs of want.
But when he saw that promised land arise
In all its rare and beautiful varieties,
Lovelier than fondest fancy ever trod,
Then softening nature melted in his eyes;
He knew his fame was full, and blessed his God,
And fell upon his face and kissed the virgin sod!
—Ibid.