University of Virginia Library

I.

Triumphant on a peak of Darien,
The eagle conqueror that, in one bold flight,
Had scaled each high impediment of cloud,
And stood above the summits of the storm,—
Balboa,—on the topmost crag that crown'd
The narrow isthmus, which between two seas
Spread barrier walls, denying their embrace,—
Rose, silent, with his eye uplift to heaven,
A moment, as in prayer and thankfulness,
Then, hopefully, he cast his glance below,
And trembled in his rapture.
'Neath him roll'd
The broad Pacific, never yet before
Unveil'd to European! What were then
Th' emotions of that conqueror, in whose toils
Such courage, with such great endurance mix'd,
Were the best proofs of virtue. Who shall tell
The struggling, glad sensations of the soul,
So highly reaching, when,—to crown at last
The hope so fruitful in great enterprise,
And noble consummation—on his eyes
Burst forth that mighty prospect—that deep sea,
In the virginity of its pure waves,
Unrifled of a charm—for the first time
Won to a mortal's arms!—or, who conceive,
When on the summit of that isthmus throned,
Higher than sovereign, and on either hand
Ranged the two sister seas, for the first time
Given to each other; he, that gallant chief,
Most noble and most valiant of the sons
Spain sent on this great service, stood alone,
And look'd upon his conquest? Who shall tell
The melancholy pride of his great soul,
When the achievement, long withheld, and won
Only by toil at last—the fearless toil
Of true adventure and achievement great,
That greater grew from trial—was his own;
And, to a spirit as aspiring, he
Added a name and triumph, scarce below
That of the “Admiral,” who led the way,
First, in this path of glory!—
With glad eye,
And soaring sense, and spirit almost drunk,
In its excess of rapture, dumb he stood,
And gazed upon the waters. Were these, then,
The billows of that Indian sea, which clasps
In its capacious bosom, those broad isles
Of boundless, unimaginable wealth,
In gold and gems o'erflowing, locking in
The spices and the perfumes of the East—
The world of spoil, the field of enterprise,
Meet for that ocean chivalry, to whom
The sea and land, the wild, and wilder yet
The savages that sway them, have no bar?
Was this that glorious sea—or, prouder still,
Had fortune yielded to his daring aim
Some lonely, lock'd-up ocean of the wild,
Some savage realm of water, undisturb'd,
Save by the Indian's bark, when, at the dawn,
He plunges through its silvery depths, unscared,
For the pearl oyster, and at eve returns,
Laden and glutted with its precious spoils,
To his lone wigwam by the reedy shore?
Proud were the thoughts of that young conqueror,
But with a due humility, that taught
Meet homage to the Deity who gave
The genius for the conquest, and laid bare
The portals of the empire and the deep!
Tears glitter'd in his great eyes, while he gazed;
His gleaming sword was laid upon the heights,
And his strong hands uplifted; while his knees,
Taught by the gratitude swelling in his heart,
Bow'd at that primitive altar of the rock,
That glow'd in day's first sunshine. Thus, alone,
A moment, pray'd Balboa. No one shared
The spectacle that gladden'd his fond eyes,
Or felt the secret sentiment of pride
That in his heart taught worship—till he bade
The host ascend the summits which his feet
Had singly scaled, and gather at a glance,
The marvellous empire hidden in the waste,
Whose secrets thus were won.
They came, they saw;
Like him, the host sank prostrate on their knees,
While audible hearts of worship breathed in prayer,
And one strong shout from that fierce chivalry
Spoke all the dark devotion of their race,
As, at the bidding of their chief, the cross,
Hewn from the tallest pine, was lifted up,
A symbol of their service and their faith,
In triumph o'er their heads. Then every eye
Grew pregnant with its tears—some upward turn'd
To heaven in thanks and gladness—others again,
In wonder not to be appeased, and love,
That had its source in wonder and delight,
To the broad realm of ocean at their feet.