Canto IV

“Ah, why look back, tho’ all is left behind?No sounds of life are stirring in the wind.—And you, ye birds, winging your passage home,How blest ye are!—We know not where we roam,We go,” they cried, “go to return no more;Nor ours, alas, the transport to exploreA human footstep on a desert shore!”

Still, as beyond this mortal life impell’dBy some mysterious energy, He heldHis everlasting course. Still self-possess’d,High on the deck He stood, disdaining rest;(His amber chain the only badge he bore,His mantle blue such as his fathers wore)Fathom’d, with searching hand, the dark profound,And scatter’d hope and glad assurance round.At day-break might the Caravels be seen,Chasing their shadows o’er the deep serene;Their burnish’d prows lash’d by the sparkling tide.Their green-cross standards waving far and wide.And now once more to better thoughts inclin’d,The sea-man, mounting, clamour’d in the wind.The soldier told his tales of love and war;sThe courtier sung—sung to his gay guitar.Round, at Primero, sate a whisker’d band;So Fortune smil’d, careless of sea or land!tLEON, MONTALVAN, (serving side by side;Two with one soul—and, as they liv’d, 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,Chain’d down in Fez, beneath the bitter thong,To the hard bench and heavy oar so long!ALBERT of FLORENCE, who, at twilight-time,In my young ear pour’d DANTE’S tragic rhyme,Screen’d by the sail as near the mast we lay,Our night illumin’d by the ocean-spray;LERMA “the generous”, AVILA “the proud;”VELASQUEZ, GARCIA, thro’ the echoing croudTrac’d by their mirth—from EBRO’S classic shore,From golden TAJO—to return no more!