Tho', like some strange portentous dream, the Past Still hovered, and the cloudless sky o'ercast. At day-break might the Caravels * be seen, Chasing their shadows o'er the deep serene; Their burnished prows lashed by the sparkling tide, Their green-cross standards † waving far and wide. And now once more to better thoughts inclined, The sea-man, mounting, clamoured in the wind. The soldier told his tales of love and war; The courtier sung-sung to his gay guitar. Round, at Primero, sate a whiskered band; So Fortune smiled, careless of sea or land! 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, Chained down in FEZ, beneath the bitter thong, To the hard bench and heavy oar so long! * Light vessels, formerly used by the Spaniards and Portuguese. + F. Columbus, c. 23. ALBERT of FLORENCE, who, at twilight-time, LERMA the generous', AVILA' the proud;' VELASQUEZ, GARCIA, thro' the echoing croud Traced by their mirth-from EBRO's classic shore, From golden TAJO, to return no more! * Many such appellations occur in Bernal Diaz. c. 204. CANTO V. The Voyage continued. YET Who but He undaunted could explore A world of waves, a sea without a shore, When round the Ark the birds of tempest wheeled ; 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 'twere to count the sands; one o'er the flood Gazed for St. Elmo ; * while another cried "Once more good morrow!" and sate down and sighed. Day, when it came, came only with its light. Though long invoked, 'twas sadder than the night! Look where He would, for ever as He turned, He met the eye of one that inly mourned. * A luminous appearance of good omen. Then sunk his generous spirit, and He wept. The Guardian's blessings mingling with his sighs; Oft in the silent night-watch doubt and fear Broke in uncertain murmurs on his ear. Muttered dark threats, and lingered to obey; Tho' that brave Youth-he, whom his courser bore Tho' ROLDAN, sleep and death to him alike, Grasped 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 vowed 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. |