Charles Morris, an American writer of the present day. In "Half Hours with American History."
The land was clearly seen about two leagues distant, whereupon they took in sail and waited impatiently for the dawn. The thoughts and feelings of Columbus in this little space of time must have been tumultuous and intense. At length, in spite of every difficulty and danger, he had accomplished his object. The great mystery of the ocean was revealed; his theory, which had been the scoff of sages, was triumphantly established; he secured to himself a glory durable as the world itself.
It is difficult to conceive the feelings of such a man at such a moment, or the conjectures which must have thronged upon his mind as to the land before him, covered with darkness. A thousand speculations must have swarmed upon him, as with his anxious crews he waited for the night to pass away, wondering whether the morning light would reveal a savage wilderness, or dawn upon spicy groves and glittering fanes and gilded cities, and all the splendor of oriental civilization.
THE FIRST TO GREET COLUMBUS.
Emma Huntington Nason. A poem in St. Nicholas, July, 1892, founded upon the incident of Columbus' finding a red thorn bush floating in the water a few days before sighting Watling's Island.
When the feast is spread in our country's name,
When the nations are gathered from far and near,
When East and West send up the same
Glad shout, and call to the lands, "Good cheer!"
When North and South shall give their bloom,
The fairest and best of the century born.
Oh, then for the king of the feast make room!
Make room, we pray, for the scarlet thorn!
Not the golden-rod from the hillsides blest,
Not the pale arbutus from pastures rare,
Nor the waving wheat from the mighty West,
Nor the proud magnolia, tall and fair,
Shall Columbia unto the banquet bring.
They, willing of heart, shall stand and wait,
For the thorn, with his scarlet crown, is king.
Make room for him at the splendid fête!
Do we not remember the olden tale?
And that terrible day of dark despair,
When Columbus, under the lowering sail,
Sent out to the hidden lands his prayer?
And was it not he of the scarlet bough
Who first went forth from the shore to greet
That lone grand soul at the vessel's prow,
Defying fate with his tiny fleet?
Grim treachery threatened, above, below,
And death stood close at the captain's side,
When he saw—Oh, joy!—in the sunset glow,
The thorn-tree's branch o'er the waters glide.
"Land! Land ahead!" was the joyful shout;
The vesper hymn o'er the ocean swept;
The mutinous sailors faced about;
Together they fell on their knees and wept.
At dawn they landed with pennons white;
They kissed the sod of San Salvador;
But dearer than gems on his doublet bright
Were the scarlet berries their leader bore;
Thorny and sharp, like his future crown,
Blood-red, like the wounds in his great heart made,
Yet an emblem true of his proud renown
Whose glorious colors shall never fade.
COLUMBA CHRISTUM-FERENS—WHAT'S IN A NAME?
New Orleans Morning Star and Catholic Messenger, August 13, 1892.
The poet says that a rose by any other name would smell as sweet, but there is no doubt that certain names are invested with a peculiar significance. It would appear also that this significance is not always a mere chance coincidence, but is intended, sometimes, to carry the evidence of an overruling prevision. Christopher Columbus was not so named after his achievements, like Scipio Africanus. The name was his from infancy, though human ingenuity could not have conceived one more wonderfully suggestive of his after career.
Columba means a dove. Was there anything dove-like about Columbus? Perhaps not, originally, but his many years of disappointment and humiliation, of poverty and contempt, of failure and hopelessness, were the best school in which to learn patience and sweetness under the guiding hand of such teachers as faith and piety. Was anything wanting to perfect him in the unresisting gentleness of the dove? If so, his guardian angel saw to it when he sent him back in chains from the scenes of his triumph. He then and there, by his meekness, established his indefeasible right to the name Columbus—the right of conquest.