The Pictures of Columbus: Picture III

Strange things I see, bright mirror, in thy breast:--There Perseverance stands, and nobly scornsThe gabbling tongue of busy calumny;Proud Erudition in a scholar's garbDerides my plans and grins a jeering smile.Hypocrisy, clad in a doctor's gown,A western continent deems heresy:The princes, kings, and nobles of the landSmile at my projects, and report me mad:One royal woman only stands my friend,Bright Isabell, the lady of our hearts,Whom avarice prompts to aid my purposes,And love of toys--weak female vanity!--She gains her point!--three slender barques I see(Or else the witch's glass deceives mine eye)Rigg'd trim, and furnish'd out with stores and men,Fitted for tedious journeys o'er the main:Columbus--ha!--their motions he directs;Their captains come, and ask advice from him,Holding him for the soul of resolution.Now, now we launch from Palos! prosperous galesImpel the canvas: now the far fam'd streightIs pass'd, the pillars of the son of Jove,Long held the limits of the paths of men:Ah! what a waste of ocean here begins,And lonely waves, so black and comfortless!Light flies each bounding galley o'er the main;Now Lancerota gathers on our view,And Teneriffe her clouded summit rears:Awhile we linger at these islands fairThat seem the utmost boundaries of the world,Then westward aiming on the unfathom'd deepSorrowing, with heavy hearts we urge our way.Now all is discontent--such oceans pass'd,No land appearing yet, dejects the most;Yet, fertile in expedients, I aloneThe mask of mild content am forc'd to wear:A thousand signs I see, or feign to see,Of shores at hand, and bottoms underneath,And not a bird that wanders o'er the main,And not a cloud that traverses the skyBut brings me something to support their hopes:All fails at last!--so frequently deceiv'dThey growl with anger--mad to look at deathThey gnash their teeth, and will be led no more;On me their vengeance turns: they look at meAs their conductor to the realms of ruin:Plot after plot discover'd, not reveng'd,They join against their chief in mutiny:They urge to plunge him in the boiling deepAs one, the only one that would pursueImaginary worlds through boundless seas:--The scene is chang'd--Fine islands greet mine eye,Cover'd with trees, and beasts, and yellow men;Eternal summer through the vallies smilesAnd fragrant gales o'er golden meadows play!--Inchantress, 'tis enough!--now veil your glass--The curtain falls--and I must homeward pass.