University of Virginia Library

Picture XIII.
Discontents at Sea.

Antonio.
DREADFUL is death in his most gentle forms!—
More horrid still on this mad element,
So far remote from land—from friends remote!
So many thousand leagues already sail'd
In quest of visions!—what remains to us
But perishing in these moist solitudes;
Where many a day our corpses on the sea
Shall float unwept, unpitied, unentomb'd!
O fate most terrible!—undone Antonio!
Why didst thou listen to a madman's dreams,
Pregnant with mischief—why not, comrades, rise!—
See, Nature's self prepares to leave us here;
The needle, once so faithful to the pole,
Now quits his object and bewilders us;
Steering at random, just as chance directs—
O fate most terrible! undone Antonio!—

Hernando.
Borne to creation's utmost verge, I saw
New stars ascending, never view'd before!
Low sinks the bear!—O land, my native land,
Clear springs and shady groves! why did I change
Your aspect fair for these infernal wastes,
Peopled by monsters of another kind;
Ah me! design'd not for the view of man!

Columbus.
Cease, dastards, cease; and be inform'd that man
Is nature's lord, and wields her to his will;
If her most noble works obey our aims,
How much more so ought worthless scum, like you,
Whose whole existence is a morning dream,
Whose life is sunshine on a wintry day,
Who shake at shadows, struck with palsied fear:
Measuring the limit of your lives by distance.

Antonio.
Columbus, hear! when with the land we parted
You thirty days agreed to plough the main,
Directing westward.—Thirty have elaps'd,
And thirty more have now begun their round,
No land appearing yet, nor trace of land,
But distant fogs that mimic lofty isles,
Painting gay landscapes on the vapourish air,
Inhabited by fiends that mean our ruin—
You persevere, and have no mercy on us—
Then perish by yourself—we must return—
And know, our firm resolve is fix'd for Spain;
In this resolve we are unanimous.

Juan de Villa-Real
to Columbus.
(A Billet.)
“I heard them over night a plot contriving
“Of fatal purpose—have a care Columbus!—
“They have resolv'd, as on the deck you stand,
“Aiding the vigils of the midnight hour,
“To plunge you headlong in the roaring deep,
“And slaughter such as favour your design
“Still to pursue this western continent.”

Columbus,
solus.
Why, nature, hast thou treated those so ill,
Whose souls, capacious of immense designs,
Leave ease and quiet for a nation's glory,
Thus to subject them to these little things,
Insects, by heaven's decree in shapes of men!
But so it is, and so we must submit,
Bending to thee, the heaven's great chancellor!
But must I fail!—and by timidity!
Must thou to thy green waves receive me, Neptune,
Or must I basely with my ships return,
Nothing accomplish'd!—not one pearl discover'd,
One bit of gold to make our queen a bracelet,
One diamond for the crown of Ferdinand!
How will their triumph be confirm'd, who said
That I was mad!—Must I then change my course,
And quit the country that would strait appear,
If one week longer we pursued the sun!—
The witch's glass was not delusion, sure!—
All this, and more, she told me to expect!—
(To the crew)
“Assemble, friends; attend to what I say:
“Signs unequivocal, at length, declare
“That some great continent approaches us:
“The sea no longer glooms unmeasur'd depths,
“The setting sun discovers clouds that owe
“Their origin to fens and woodland wastes,
“Not such as breed on ocean's salt domain:—
“Vast flocks of birds attend us on our way,
“These all have haunts amidst the watry void,
“Sweet scenes of ease, and sylvan solitude,
“And springs, and streams that we shall share with them.
“Now, hear my most importunate request:
“I call you all my friends; you are my equals,
“Men of true worth and native dignity,
“Whose spirits are too mighty to return
“Most meanly home, when nothing is accomplish'd—
“Consent to sail our wonted course with me
“But one week longer, and if that be spent,
“And nought appear to recompence our toil,
“Then change our course and homeward haste away—
“Nay, homeward not!—for that would be too base—
“But to some negro coast, where we may hide,
“And never think of Ferdinand again.”

Hernando.
One week!—too much—it shall not be, Columbus!
Already are we on the verge of ruin,
Warm'd by the sunshine of another sphere,
Fann'd by the breezes of the burning zone,
Launch'd out upon the world's extremities!—
Who knows where one week more may carry us?

Antonio.
Nay, talk not to the traitor!—base Columbus,
To thee our ruin and our deaths we owe!
Away, away!—friends!—men at liberty,
Now free to act as best befits our case,
Appoint another pilot to the helm,
And Andalusia be our port again!

Columbus.
Friends, is it thus you treat your admiral,
Who bears the honours of great Ferdinand,
The royal standard, and the arms of Spain!
Three days allow me—and I'll show new worlds.

Hernando.
Three days!—one day will pass too tediously—
But in the name of all our crew, Columbus,
Whose speaker and controuler I am own'd;
Since thou indeed art a most gallant man,
Three days we grant—but ask us not again!