'Twas sought by Cortez with his warrior band,
In realms once ruled by Montezuma's hand;
Where the old Aztec, 'neath his hills of snow,
Built the bright domes of silver Mexico.
Pizarro sought it where the Inca's rod
Proclaimed the prince half-mortal, demi-god,
When the mild children of unblest Peru
Before the bloodhounds of the conqueror flew,
And saw their country and their race undone,
And perish 'neath the Temple of the Sun!
De Soto sought it, with his tawny bride,
Near where the Mississippi's waters glide,
Beneath the ripples of whose yellow wave
He found at last both monument and grave.
Old Ponce de Leon, in the land of flowers,
Searched long for Eden 'midst her groves and bowers,
Whilst brave La Salle, where Texan prairies smile,
Roamed westward still, to reach the happy isle.
The Pilgrim Fathers on the Mayflower's deck,
Fleeing beyond a tyrant's haughty beck,
In quest of Eden, trod the rock-bound shore,
Where bleak New England's wintry surges roar;
Raleigh, with glory in his eagle eye,
Chased the lost realm beneath a Southern sky;
Whilst Boone believed that Paradise was found
In old Kentucky's "dark and bloody ground!"
In vain their labors, all in vain their toil;
Doomed ne'er to breathe that air nor tread that soil.
Heaven had reserved it till a race sublime
Should launch its heroes on the wave of time!
Go with me now, ye Californian band,
And gaze with wonder at your glorious land;
Ascend the summit of yon middle chain,
When Mount Diablo rises from the plain,
And cast your eyes with telescopic power,
O'er hill and forest, over field and flower.
Behold! how free the hand of God hath roll'd
A wave of wealth across your Land of Gold!
The mountains ooze it from their swelling breast,
The milk-white quartz displays it in her crest;
Each tiny brook that warbles to the sea,
Harps on its strings a golden melody;
Whilst the young waves are cradled on the shore
On spangling pillows, stuffed with golden ore!
Look northward! See the Sacramento glide
Through valleys blooming like a royal bride,
And bearing onward to the ocean's shore
A richer freight than Arno ever bore!
See! also fanned by cool refreshing gales,
Fair Petaluma and her sister vales,
Whose fields and orchards ornament the plain
And deluge earth with one vast sea of grain!
Look southward! Santa Clara smiles afar,
As in the fields of heaven, a radiant star;
Los Angeles is laughing through her vines;
Old Monterey sits moody midst her pines;
Far San Diego flames her golden bow,
And Santa Barbara sheds her fleece of snow,
Whilst Bernardino's ever-vernal down
Gleams like an emerald in a monarch's crown!
Look eastward! On the plains of San Joaquin
Ten thousand herds in dense array are seen.
Aloft like columns propping up the skies
The cloud-kissed groves of Calaveras rise;
Whilst dashing downward from their dizzy home
The thundering falls of Yo Semite foam!
Look westward! Opening on an ocean great,
Behold the portal of the Golden Gate!
Pillared on granite, destined e'er to stand
The iron rampart of the sunset land!
With rosy cheeks, fanned by the fresh sea-breeze,
The petted child of the Pacific seas,
See San Francisco smile! Majestic heir
Of all that's brave, or bountiful, or fair,
Pride of our land, by every wave carest,
And hailed by nations, Venice of the West!
Where then is Eden? Ah! why should I tell,
What every eye and bosom know so well?
Why thy name the land all other lands have blest,
And traced for ages to the distant West?
Why search in vain throughout th' historic page
For Eden's garden and the Golden Age?
Here, brothers, here! no further let us roam;
This is the Garden! Eden is our Home!
Transcriber's Notes:
Punctuation corrections:
p. 30, removed double quote from unquoted passage (and deprecated the action)