<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=418509" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Vision of Columbus – Book 2</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">High o'er the changing scene, as thus he gazed,<br>The indulgent Power his arm sublimely raised;<br>When round the realms superior lustre flew,<br>And call'd new wonders to the hero's view.<br>He saw, at once, as far as eye could rove,<br>Like scattering herds, the swarthy people move,<br>In tribes innumerable; all the waste,<br>Beneath their steps, a varying shadow cast.<br>As airy shapes, beneath the moon's pale eye,<br>When broken clouds sail o'er the curtain'd sky,<br>Spread thro' the grove and flit along the glade,<br>And cast their grisly phantoms thro' the shade;<br>So move the hordes, in thickers half conceal'd,<br>Or vagrant stalking o'er the open field.<br>Here ever-restless tribes, despising home,<br>O'er shadowy streams and trackless deserts roam;<br>While others there, thro' downs and hamlets stray,<br>And rising domes a happier state display.<br>The painted chiefs, in death's grim terrors drest,<br>Rise fierce to war, and beat the savage breast;<br>Dark round their steps collecting warriors pour,<br>And dire revenge begins the hideous roar;<br>While to the realms around the signal flies,<br>And tribes on tribes, in dread disorder, rise,<br>Track the mute foe and scour the distant wood,<br>Wide as a storm, and dreadful as a flood;<br>Now deep in groves the silent ambush lay,<br>Or wing the flight or sweep the prize away,<br>Unconscious babes and reverend sires devour,<br>Drink the warm blood and paint their cheeks with gore.<br>While all their mazy movements fill the view.<br>Where'er they turn his eager eyes pursue;<br>He saw the same dire visage thro' the whole,<br>And mark'd the same fierce savageness of soul:<br>In doubt he stood, with anxious thoughts oppress'd,<br>And thus his wavering mind the Power address'd.<br>Say, from what source, O Voice of wisdom, sprung<br>The countless tribes of this amazing throng?<br>Where human frames and brutal souls combine,<br>No force can tame them and no arts refine.<br>Can these be fashion'd on the social plan?<br>Or boast a lineage with the race of man?<br>In yon fair isle, when first my wandering view<br>Ranged the glad coast and met the savage crew;<br>A timorous herd, like harmless roes, they ran,<br>Hail'd us as Gods from whom their race began,<br>Supply'd our various wants, relieved our toil,<br>And oped the unbounded treasures of their isle.<br>But when, their fears allay'd, in us they trace<br>The well-known image of a mortal race;<br>When Spanish blood their wondering eyes beheld,<br>Returning rage their changing bosoms swell'd;<br>Their jaws the crimson dainty long'd to taste,<br>And spread, with foreign flesh, the rich repast.<br>My homeward sail, far distant on the main,<br>Incautious left a small unguarded train,<br>When, in their horrid power, bereft of aid,<br>That train with thee, O lost Arada, bled.<br>No faith no treaty calms their maddening flame,<br>Rage all their joy, and slaughter all their aim;<br>How the dread savage bands with fury burn'd,<br>When o'er the wave our growing host return'd!<br>Now, mild with joy, a friendly smile they show'd,<br>And now their dark-red visage frown'd in blood;<br>Till, call'd afar, from all the circling shore,<br>Swift thro' the groves the yelling squadrons pour,<br>The wide wings stretching sweep the unbounded plain,<br>That groans beneath the innumerable train.<br>Our scanty files, ascending o'er the strand,<br>Tread the bold champaign and the fight demand;<br>With steeds and hounds the dreadful onset moves,<br>And thundering batteries rend the distant groves;<br>Swift fly the scattering foes, like shades of night,<br>When orient splendors urge their rapid flight.<br>Our proffer'd friendship bade the discord cease,<br>Spared the grim host and gave the terms of peace.<br>The arts of civil life we strove to lend,<br>Their lands to culture and their joys extend,<br>Sublime their views, fair virtue's charms display,<br>And point their passage to eternal day.<br>Still proud to rove, our offers they disdain,<br>Insult our friendship and our rites prophane.<br>In that blest island, still the myriads rest,<br>Bask in the sunshine, wander with the beast,<br>Feed on the foe, or from the victor fly,<br>Rise into life, exhaust their rage, and die.<br>Tell then, my Seer, from what dire sons of earth<br>The brutal people drew their ancient birth?<br>Whether in realms, the western heavens that close,<br>A tribe distinct from other nations rose,<br>Born to subjection; when, in happier time,<br>A nobler race should hail their fruitful clime.<br>Or, if a common source all nations claim,<br>Their lineage, form, and reasoning powers the same,<br>What sovereign cause, in secret wisdom laid,<br>This wonderous change in God's own work has made?<br>Why various powers of soul and tints of face<br>In different climes diversify the race?<br>To whom the Guide; Unnumber'd causes lie<br>In earth and sea and round the varying sky,<br>That fire the soul, or damp the genial flame,<br>And work their wonders on the human frame.<br>See beauty, form and colour change with place–<br>Here charms of health the blooming visage grace;<br>There pale diseases float in every wind,<br>Deform the figure, and degrade the mind.<br>From earth's own elements, thy race at first<br>Rose into life, the children of the dust;<br>These kindred elements, by various use,<br>Nourish the growth and every change produce;<br>Pervade the pores, awake the infant bloom,<br>Lead life along, and ope the certain tomb;<br>In each ascending stage the man sustain,<br>His breath, his food, his physic and his bane.<br>In due proportions, where these virtues lie,<br>A perfect form their equal aids supply;<br>And, while unchanged the efficient causes reign,<br>Age following age the unvaried race maintain.<br>But where crude elements distemper'd rise,<br>And cast their sickening vapours round the skies,<br>Unlike that harmony of human frame,<br>Where God's first works and nature's were the same,<br>The unconscious tribes, attempering to the clime,<br>Still vary downward with the years of time;<br>Till fix'd, at last, their characters abide,<br>And local likeness feeds their local pride.<br>The soul too varying with the changing clime,<br>Feeble or fierce, or groveling or sublime,<br>Forms with the body to a kindred plan,<br>And lives the same, a nation or a man.<br>Yet think not clime alone, or height of poles,<br>On every shore, the springs of life controuls;<br>A different cast the glowing zone demands,<br>In Paria's blooms, from Tombut's burning sands.<br>Internal causes, thro' the earth and skies,<br>Blow in the breeze or on the mountain rise,<br>Thro' air and ocean, with their changes run,<br>Breathe from the ground or circle with the fun.<br>Where these long shores their boundless regions spread<br>See the same form all different tribes pervade;<br>Thro' all, alike, the fertile forests bloom,<br>And all, uncultured, shed a solemn gloom;<br>Thro' all great nature's boldest features rise,<br>Sink into vales and tower amid the skies;<br>Streams, darkly-winding, stretch a broader sway,<br>The groves and mountains bolder walks display:<br>A dread sublimity informs the whole,<br>And wakes a dread sublimity of soul.<br>Yet time and art shall other changes find,<br>And open still and vary still the mind;<br>The countless swarms that tread these dank abodes,<br>Who glean spontaneous fruits and range the woods,<br>Fix'd here for ages, in their swarthy face,<br>Display the wild complexion of the place.<br>Yet when their tribes to happy nations rise,<br>And earth by culture warms the genial skies,<br>A fairer tint and more majestic grace<br>Shall flush their features and exalt the race;<br>While milder arts, with social joys refined,<br>Inspire new beauties in the growing mind.<br>Thy followers too, fair Europe's noblest pride,<br>When future gales shall wing them o'er the tide,<br>A ruddier hue and deeper shade shall gain,<br>And stalk, in statelier figures, o'er the plain.<br>While nature's grandeur lifts the eye abroad<br>O'er these dread footsteps of the forming God;<br>Wing'd on a wider glance the venturous soul<br>Bids greater powers and bolder thoughts unroll;<br>The sage, the chief, the patriot, unconfined,<br>Shield the weak world and counsel for mankind.<br>But think not thou, in all the race of man,<br>That different pairs, in different climes, began;<br>Or tribes distinct, by signal marks confest,<br>Were born to serve or subjugate the rest.<br>The hero heard; But say, celestial Guide,<br>Who led the wanderers o'er the billowy tide?<br>Could these dark bands, unskill'd the paths to gain,<br>To build the bark, or cross the extended main,<br>Descry the coast, or tread the blest abode,<br>Unled, unguided by the hand of God?<br>When first thy roving race, the Power reply'd,<br>Learn'd by the stars the devious sail to guide,<br>From stormy Hellespont explored the way,<br>And sought the bound'ries of the midland sea;<br>Ere great Alcides form'd the impious plan,<br>To bound the sail and fix the range of man,<br>Driven from those rocky straits, a hapless train<br>Roll'd on the waves that sweep the western main,<br>While eastern storms the billowing skies o'ershade,<br>Nor sun nor stars afford their wonted aid.<br>For many a darksome day, o'erwhelm'd and tost,<br>Their sails, their oars in swallowing surges lost;<br>At length, the clouds withdrawn, they sad descry<br>Their course directing from their native sky;<br>No hope remains; while, o'er the flaming zone,<br>The winds still bear them with the circling sun;<br>Till the wild walks of this delightful coast<br>Receive to lonely seats the suffering host.<br>The fruitful plains invite their steps to roam,<br>Renounce their sorrows and forget their home;<br>Revolving years their ceaseless wanderings led,<br>And from their sons descending nations spread.<br>These round the south and middle regions stray,<br>Where cultured fields their growing arts display;<br>While northern tribes a later source demand,<br>And snow their wanderers from the Asian strand.<br>Far tow'rd the distant pole thy view extend;<br>See isles and shores and seas Pacific blend;<br>And that blue coast, where Amur's currents glide,<br>From thy own world a narrow frith divide;<br>There Tartar hosts for countless years, have sail'd,<br>And changing tribes the alternate regions hail'd.<br>He look'd: the opening shores beneath him spread,<br>And moving nations on the margin tread.<br>As, when autumnal storms awake their force,<br>The storks foreboding tempt their southern course;<br>From all the fields collecting throngs arise,<br>Mount on the wing and croud along the skies;<br>Thus, to his eye, from far Siberia's shore,<br>O'er isles and seas, the gathering people pour;<br>From those cold regions hail a happier strand,<br>Leap from the wave and tread the welcome land;<br>The growing tribes extend their southern sway,<br>And widely wander to a milder day.<br>But why; the chief return'd, if ages past<br>Have led these vagrants o'er the wilder'd waste–<br>If human souls, for social compact given,<br>Inform their nature with the stamp of heaven,<br>Why the dread glooms forever must they rove?<br>And no mild joys their temper'd passions move?<br>Ages remote and dark thou bring'st to light,<br>When the first leaders dared the western flight;<br>On other shores, in every eastern clime,<br>Since that unletter'd, distant tract of time,<br>What arts have shone! what empires found their place,<br>What golden sceptres sway'd the human race!<br>What guilt and grandeur from their seats been hurl'd,<br>And dire divulsions shook the changing world.<br>Ere Rome's bold eagle clave the affrighted air,<br>Ere Sparta form'd her death-like sons of war,<br>Ere proud Chaldea saw her greatness rise,<br>Or Memphian columns heaved against the skies;<br>These tribes have stray'd beneath the fruitful zone,<br>Their souls unpolish'd and their name unknown.<br>The Voice of heaven reply'd; A scanty band,<br>In that far age, approach'd the untrodden land.<br>Prolific wilds, with game and fruitage crown'd,<br>Supply'd their wishes from the uncultured ground.<br>By nature form'd to rove, the restless mind,<br>Of freedom fond, will ramble unconfined,<br>Till all the realm is fill'd, and rival right<br>Restrains their steps, and bids their force unite;<br>When common safety builds a common cause,<br>Conforms their interests and inspires their laws;<br>By mutual checks their different manners blend,<br>Their fields bloom joyous and their walls ascend.<br>Here, to their growing hosts, no bounds arose,<br>They claim'd no safeguard, as they fear'd no foes;<br>Round all the land their scattering sons must stray,<br>Ere arts could rise, or power extend the sway.<br>And what a world their mazy wanderings led!<br>What streams and wilds in boundless order spread!<br>See the shores lengthen, see the waters roll,<br>To each far main and each extended pole!<br>Yet circling years the destined course have run,<br>The realms are peopled and their arts begun.<br>Behold, where that mid region strikes the eyes,<br>A few fair cities glitter to the skies;<br>There move, in eastern pomp, the scenes of state,<br>And temples heave, magnificently great.<br>The hero look'd; when from the varying height,<br>Three growing splendors, rising on the sight,<br>Flamed like a constellation: high in view,<br>Ascending near, their opening glories drew;<br>In equal pomp, beneath their roofs of gold,<br>Three spiry towns, in blazing pride, unfold.<br>So, led by visions of the guiding God,<br>The sacred Seer, in Patmos' waste who trod,<br>Saw the dim vault of heaven its folds unbend,<br>And gates and spires and streets and domes descend;<br>With golden skies, and suns and rainbows crown'd,<br>The new-form'd city lights the world around.<br>Fair on the north, bright Mexico, arose,<br>A mimic morn her sparkling towers disclose,<br>An ample range the opening streets display,<br>Give back the sun and shed internal day;<br>The circling wall with sky-built turrets frown'd,<br>And look'd defiance to the realms around;<br>A glimmering lake, without the walls, retires,<br>Inverts the trembling towers and seems a grove of spires.<br>Bright, o'er the midst, on columns lifted high,<br>A rising structure claims a loftier sky;<br>O'er the tall gates sublimer arches bend,<br>Courts larger lengthen, bolder walks ascend,<br>Starr'd with superior gems, the porches shine,<br>And speak the royal residence within.<br>There, robed in state, high on a golden throne,<br>Mid suppliant kings, dread Montezuma shone:<br>Mild in his eye a temper'd grandeur sate,<br>Great seem'd his soul, with conscious power elate;<br>In aspect open, haughty and sincere,<br>Untamed by crosses and unknown to fear,<br>Of fraud incautious, credulous and vain,<br>Enclosed with favourites and of friends unseen.<br>Round the rich throne, with various lustre bright,<br>Gems undistinguish'd, cast a changing light;<br>Sapphires and emeralds deck the splendent scene,<br>Sky-tinctures mingling with the vernal green;<br>The ruby's blush, the amber's flames unfold,<br>And diamonds brighten from the burning gold;<br>Through all the dome the living blazes blend,<br>And cast their rainbows where the arches bend.<br>Wide round the walls, with mimic action gay,<br>In order ranged, historic figures stray,<br>And show, in Memphian style, with rival grace,<br>Their boasted chiefs and all their regal race.<br>Thro' the full gates, and round each ample street,<br>Unnumber'd throngs, in various concourse, meet,<br>Ply different toils, new walls and structures rear,<br>Or till the fields, or train the ranks of war.<br>Thro' spreading realms the skirts of empire bend,<br>New temples rise and other plains extend;<br>Thrice ten fair provinces, in culture gay,<br>Bless the same monarch and enlarge his sway.<br>A smile benignant kindling in his eyes,<br>Oh happy clime! the exulting hero cries;<br>Far in the midland, safe from foreign foes,<br>Thy joys shall ripen as thy grandeur grows,<br>To future years thy rising fame extend,<br>And sires of nations from thy sons descend.<br>May no gold-thirsty race thy temples tread,<br>Nor stain thy streams nor heap thy plains with dead;<br>No Bovadilla sieze the tempting spoil,<br>Ovando dark, or sacrilegious Boyle,<br>In mimic priesthood grave, or robed in state,<br>O'erwhelm thy glories in oblivious fate.<br>Vain are thy fondest hopes, the Power reply'd,<br>These rich abodes from ravening hosts to hide;<br>Teach harden'd guilt and cruelty to spare<br>The guardless prize, and check the waste of war.<br>Think not the vulture, o'er the field of slain,<br>Where base and brave promiscuous strow the plain,<br>Where the young hero, in the pride of charms,<br>Pours deeper crimson o'er his spotless arms,<br>Will pass the tempting prey, and glut his rage<br>On harder flesh, and carnage black with age;<br>O'er all alike he darts his eager eye,<br>Whets the dire beak and hovers down the sky,<br>From countless corses picks the dainty food,<br>And screams and fattens in the purest blood.<br>So the dire hosts, that trace thy daring way,<br>By gold allured to sail the unfathom'd sea,<br>Power all their aim and avarice all their joy,<br>Seize brightest realms and happiest tribes destroy.<br>Thine the dread task, O Cortez, here to show<br>What unknown crimes can heighten human woe,<br>On these fair fields the blood of realms to pour,<br>Tread sceptres down and print thy steps in gore,<br>With gold and carnage swell thy sateless mind,<br>And live and die the blackest of mankind.<br>Now see, from yon fair isle, his murdering band<br>Stream o'er the wave and mount the sated strand;<br>On the wild shore behold his fortress rise,<br>The fleet in flames ascends the darken'd skies.<br>The march begins; the nations, from afar,<br>Quake in his sight, and wage the fruitless war;<br>O'er the rich provinces he bends his way,<br>Kings in his chain, and kingdoms for his prey;<br>While, robed in peace, great Montezuma stands,<br>And crowns and treasures sparkle in his hands,<br>Proffers the empire, yields the sceptred sway,<br>Bids vassal'd millions tremble and obey;<br>And plies the victor, with incessant prayer,<br>Thro' ravaged realms the harmless race to spare.<br>But prayers and tears and sceptres plead in vain,<br>Nor threats can move him, nor a world restrain;<br>While blest religion's prostituted name,<br>And monkish fury guides the sacred flame:<br>O'er fanes and altars, fires unhallow'd bend,<br>Climb o'er the walls and up the towers ascend,<br>Pour, round the lowering skies, the smoky flood,<br>And whelm the fields, and quench their rage in blood.<br>The hero heard; and, with a heaving sigh,<br>Dropp'd the full tear that started in his eye,<br>Oh hapless day! his trembling voice reply'd,<br>That saw my wandering streamer mount the tide!<br>Oh! had the lamp of heaven, to that bold fail,<br>Ne'er mark'd the passage nor awaked the gale,<br>Taught eastern worlds these beauteous climes to find,<br>Nor led those tygers forth to curse mankind.<br>Then had the tribes, beneath these bounteous skies,<br>Seen their walls widen and their spires arise;<br>Down the long tracts of time their glory shone,<br>Broad as the day and lasting as the sun:<br>The growing realms, beneath thy shield that rest,<br>O hapless monarch, still thy power had blest,<br>Enjoy'd the pleasures that surround thy throne,<br>Survey'd thy virtues and sublimed their own.<br>Forgive me, prince; this impious arm hath led<br>The unseen storm that blackens o'er thy head;<br>Taught the dark sons of slaughter where to roam,<br>To seize thy crown and seal thy nation's doom.<br>Arm, sleeping empire, meet the daring band,<br>Drive back the terrors, save the sinking land–<br>Yet vain the strife! behold the sweeping flood!<br>Forgive me nature, and forgive me God.<br>Thus, from his heart, while speaking sorrows roll,<br>The Power, reproving, sooth'd his tender soul.<br>Father of this new world, thy tears give o'er,<br>Let virtue grieve and Heaven be blamed no more.<br>Enough for man, with persevering mind,<br>To act his part and strive to bless his kind;<br>Enough for thee, o'er thy dark age to rise,<br>With genius warm'd, and favour'd of the skies.<br>For this my guardian care thy youth inspired,<br>To virtue raised thee, and with glory fired,<br>Bade in thy plan each distant world unite,<br>And wing'd thy streamer for the adventurous flight.<br>Nor think no blessings shall thy toils attend,<br>Or these fell tyrants can defeat their end.<br>Such impious deeds, in Heaven's all-ruling plan,<br>Lead in disguise the noblest bliss of man.<br>Long have thy race, to narrow shores confined,<br>Trod the same round that cramp'd the roving mind;<br>Now, borne on bolder wings, with happier flight,<br>The world's broad bounds unfolding to the sight,<br>The mind shall soar; the nations catch the flame,<br>Enlarge their counsels and extend their fame;<br>While mutualities the social joys enhance,<br>And the last stage of civil rule advance.<br>Tho' impious ruffians spread their crimes abroad,<br>And o'er these empires pour the purple flood;<br>Tis thus religious rage, its own dire bane,<br>Shall fall at last, with all its millions slain,<br>And buried gold, drawn bounteous from the mine,<br>Give wings to commerce and the world refine.<br>Now to yon southern walls extend thy view,<br>And mark the rival seats of rich Peru.<br>There Quito's airy plains, exalted high,<br>With loftier temples rise along the sky;<br>And elder Cusco's richer roofs unfold,<br>Flame on the day and shed their suns of gold.<br>Another range, in these delightful climes,<br>Spreads a broad theatre for unborn crimes.<br>Another Cortez shall the treasures view,<br>The rage rekindle and the guilt renew;<br>His treason, fraud, and every dire decree,<br>O curst Pizarro, shall revive in thee.<br>There reigns a prince, whose hand the sceptre claims,<br>Thro' a long lineage of imperial names;<br>Where the brave roll of following Incas trace<br>The distant father of their realm and race,<br>Immortal Capac. He in youthful pride,<br>With fair Oella, his illustrious bride,<br>In virtuous guile, proclaim'd their birth begun,<br>From the pure splendors of their God, the sun;<br>With power and dignity a throne to found,<br>Fix the mild sway and spread their arts around;<br>Crush the dire Gods that human victims claim,<br>And point all worship to a nobler name;<br>With cheerful rites, the due devotions pay<br>To the bright beam, that gives the changing day.<br>On this fair plan, the children of the skies<br>Bade, in the wild, a growing empire rise;<br>Beneath their hand, and sacred to their fame,<br>Rose yon fair walls, that meet the solar flame.<br>Succeeding sovereigns spread their bounds afar,<br>By arts of peace and temper'd force of war;<br>Till these surrounding realms the sceptre own,<br>And grateful millions hail the genial sun.<br>Behold, in yon fair lake, a beauteous isle,<br>Where fruits and flowers, in rich profusion smile;<br>High in the midst a sacred temple rise,<br>Seat of the sun, and pillar of the skies.<br>The roofs of burnish'd gold, the blazing spires<br>Light the glad heavens and lose their upward fires;<br>Fix'd in the flaming front, with living ray,<br>A diamond circlet gives the rival day;<br>In whose bright face forever looks abroad<br>The radiant image of the beaming God.<br>Round the wide courts, and in the solemn dome,<br>A white-robed train of holy virgins bloom;<br>Their pious hands the sacred rites require,<br>To grace the offerings, and preserve the fire.<br>On this blest isle, with flowery garlands crown'd,<br>That ancient pair, in charms of youth, were found,<br>Whose union'd souls the mighty plan design'd,<br>To bless the nations and reform mankind.<br>The hero heard, and thus the Power besought;<br>What arts unknown the wonderous blessings wrought?<br>What human skill, in that benighted age,<br>In savage souls could quell the barbarous rage?<br>With leagues of peace combine the wide domain?<br>And teach the virtues in their laws to reign?<br>Long is their story, said the Power divine,<br>The labours great and glorious the design;<br>And tho' to earthly minds, their actions rest,<br>By years obscured, in flowery fiction drest,<br>Yet my glad voice shall wake their honour'd name,<br>And give their virtues to immortal fame.<br>Led by his father's wars, in early prime,<br>Young Capac wander'd from a northern clime;<br>Along these shores, with livelier verdure gay,<br>Thro' fertile vales, the adventurous armies stray.<br>He saw the tribes unnumber'd range the plain,<br>And rival chiefs, by rage and slaughter, reign;<br>He saw the sires their dreadful Gods adore,<br>Their altars staining with their children's gore;<br>Yet mark'd their reverence for the Sun, whose beam<br>Proclaims his bounties and his power supreme;<br>Who sails in happier skies, diffusing good,<br>Demands no victim and receives no blood.<br>In peace returning with his conquering sire,<br>Fair glory's charms his youthful soul inspire;<br>With virtue warm'd, he fix'd the generous plan,<br>To build his greatness on the bliss of man.<br>By nature formed to daring deeds of fame,<br>Tall, bold and beauteous rose his stately frame;<br>Strong moved his limbs, a mild majestic grace<br>Beam'd from his eyes and open'd in his face;<br>O'er the dark world his mind superior shone,<br>And, soaring, seem'd the semblance of the sun.<br>Now fame's prophetic visions lift his eyes,<br>And future empires from his labours rise;<br>Yet softer fires his daring views controul,<br>Sway the warm wish and fill the changing soul.<br>Shall the bright genius, kindled from above,<br>Bend to the milder, gentler voice of love;<br>That bounds his glories, and forbids to part<br>From that calm bower, that held his glowing heart?<br>Or shall the toils, imperial heroes claim,<br>Fire his bold bosom with a patriot flame?<br>Bid sceptres wait him on the distant shore?<br>And blest Oella meet his eyes no more?<br>Retiring pensive, near the wonted shade,<br>His unseen steps approach the beauteous maid.<br>Her raven-locks roll on her heaving breast,<br>And wave luxuriant round her slender waist,<br>Gay wreaths of flowers her lovely brows adorn,<br>And her white raiment mocks the pride of morn.<br>Her busy hand sustains a bending bough,<br>Where woolly clusters spread their robes of snow,<br>From opening pods, unbinds the fleecy store,<br>And culls her labours for the evening bower.<br>Her sprightly soul, by deep invention led,<br>Had found the skill to turn the twisting thread,<br>To spread the woof, the shuttle to command,<br>Till various garments graced her forming hand.<br>Here, while her thoughts with her own Capac rove,<br>O'er former scenes of innocence and love,<br>Through many a field his fancied dangers share,<br>And wait him glorious from the distant war;<br>Blest with the ardent wish, her glowing mind<br>A snowy vesture for the prince design'd;<br>She seeks the purest wool, to web the fleece,<br>The sacred emblem of returning peace.<br>Sudden his near approach her breast alarms;<br>He flew enraptured to her yielding arms,<br>And lost, dissolving in a softer name,<br>The distant empire and the fire of fame.<br>At length, retiring o'er the homeward field,<br>Their mutual minds to happy converse yield,<br>O'er various scenes of blissful life they ran,<br>When thus the warrior to the fair began.<br>Joy of my life, thou know'st my roving mind,<br>With these grim tribes, in dark abodes, confined,<br>With grief hath mark'd what vengeful passions sway<br>The bickering bands, and sweep the race away.<br>Where late my distant steps the war pursued,<br>The fertile plains grew boundless as I view'd;<br>Increasing nations trod the waving wild,<br>And joyous nature more delightful smiled.<br>No changing seasons there the flowers deform,<br>No dread volcano, and no mountain storm;<br>Rains ne'er invade, nor livid lightnings play,<br>Nor clouds obscure the radiant Power of day.<br>But, while the God, in ceaseless glory bright,<br>Rolls o'er the day and fires his stars by night,<br>Unbounded fulness flows beneath his reign,<br>Seas yield their treasures, fruits adorn the plain;<br>Warm'd by his beam, their mountains pour the flood,<br>And the cool breezes wake beneath the God.<br>My anxious thoughts indulge the great design,<br>To form those nations to a sway divine;<br>Destroy the rights of every dreadful Power,<br>Whose crimson altars glow with human gore;<br>To laws and mildness teach the realms to yield,<br>And nobler fruits to grace the cultured field.<br>But great, my charmer, is the task of fame,<br>The countless tribes to temper and to tame.<br>Full many a spacious wild my soul must see,<br>Spread dreary bounds between my joys and me;<br>And yon bright Godhead circle many a year;<br>Each lonely evening number'd with a tear.<br>Long robes of white my shoulders must embrace,.<br>To speak my lineage of ethereal race;<br>That wondering tribes may tremble, and obey<br>The radiant offspring of the Power of day.<br>And when thro' cultured fields their bowers encrease,<br>And streams and plains survey the works of peace,<br>When these glad hands the rod of nations claim,<br>And happy millions bless thy Capac's name,<br>Then shall he feign a journey to the Sun,<br>To bring the partner of the peaceful throne;<br>So shall descending kings the line sustain,<br>And unborn ages bloom beneath their reign.<br>Will then my fair, in that delightful hour,<br>Forsake these wilds and hail a happier bower?<br>And now consenting, with approving smiles,<br>Bid the young warrior tempt the daring toils?<br>And, sweetly patient, wait the flight of days,<br>That crown our labours with immortal praise?<br>Silent the fair one heard; her moistening eye<br>Spoke the full soul, nor could her voice reply;<br>Till softer accents sooth'd her listening ear,<br>Composed her tumult and allay'd her fear.<br>Think not, enchanting maid, my steps would part,<br>While silent sorrows heave that tender heart:<br>More dear to me are blest Oella's joys,<br>Than all the lands that bound the bending skies;<br>Nor thou, bright Sun, should'st bribe my soul to rest,<br>And leave one struggle in her lovely breast.<br>Yet think in those vast climes, my gentle fair,<br>What hapless millions claim our guardian care;<br>How age to age leads on the dreadful gloom,<br>And rage and slaughter croud the untimely tomb;<br>No social joys their wayward passions prove,<br>Nor peace nor pleasure treads the savage grove;<br>Mid thousand heroes and a thousand fair,<br>No fond Oella meets her Capac there.<br>Yet, taught by thee each nobler joy to prize,<br>With softer charms the virgin race shall rise,<br>Awake new virtues, every grace improve,<br>And form their minds for happiness and love.<br>Behold, where future years, in pomp, descend,<br>How worlds and ages on thy voice depend!<br>And, like the Sun, whose all-delighting ray<br>O'er those mild borders sheds serenest day,<br>Diffuse thy bounties, give my steps to rove,<br>A few short months the noble task to prove,<br>And, swift return'd from glorious toils, declare<br>What realms submissive wait our fostering care.<br>And will my prince, my Capac, borne away,<br>Thro' those dark wilds, in quest of empire, stray?<br>Where tygers fierce command the howling wood,<br>And men like tygers thirst for human blood.<br>Think'st thou no dangerous deed the course attends?<br>Alone, unaided by thy sire and friends?<br>Even chains and death may meet my rover there,<br>Nor his last groan could reach Oella's ear.<br>But chains, nor death, nor groans shall Capac prove,<br>Unknown to her, while she has power to rove.<br>Close by thy side where'er thy wanderings stray,<br>My equal steps shall measure all the way;<br>With borrow'd soul each dire event I'll dare,<br>Thy toils to lessen and thy dangers share.<br>Command, blest chief, since virtue bids thee go<br>To rule the realms and banish human woe,<br>Command these hands two snowy robes to weave,<br>The Sun to mimic and the tribes deceive;<br>Then let us range, and spread the peaceful sway,<br>The radiant children of the Power of day.<br>The lovely counsel pleased. The smiling chief<br>Approved her courage and dispel'd her grief;<br>Then to the distant bower in haste they move,<br>Begin their labours and prepare to rove.<br>Soon grow the robes beneath her forming care,<br>And the fond parents wed the noble pair;<br>But, whelm'd in grief, beheld, the approaching dawn,<br>Their joys all vanish'd, and their children gone.<br>Nine changing days, thro' southern wilds, they stray'd,<br>Now wrapp'd in glooms, now gleaming thro' the glade,<br>Till the tenth morning, with an orient smile,<br>Beheld them blooming in the happy isle.<br>The toil begins; to every neighbouring band,<br>They speak the message and their faith demand;<br>With various art superior powers display,<br>To prove their lineage and confirm their sway.<br>The astonish'd tribes behold with glad surprize,<br>The Gods descended from the favouring skies;<br>Adore their persons, robed in shining white,<br>Receive their laws and leave each horrid rite;<br>Build with assisting toil, the golden throne,<br>And hail and bless the sceptre of the Sun.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Joel+Barlow">Joel Barlow</a><div class=q> <img src="https://www.citatepedia.ro/g/32share.png" style="float:left" alt="Share"> <script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=418509" data-title="Vision of Columbus – Book 2 de Joel Barlow" data-description="High o'er the changing scene, as thus he gazed, The indulgent Power his arm sublimely raised; When round the realms superior lustre flew, And call'd new wonders to the hero's view. He saw, at once, as far as eye could rove, Like scattering herds, ..."></div> </div> </div>

solid border dashed border dotted border double border groove border ridge border inset border outset border no border blue green red purple cyan gold silver black