 | Songs of a Stranger |  |
SONG OF THE CREW OF DIAZ,
ON THE DISCOVERY OF THE CAPE OF GOOD HOPE,
OR CAPE OF STORMS.
“In the reign of John II. of Portugal (1484), Bartholomew
Diaz, an officer, whose sagacity, experience, and fortitude admirably
qualified him for the undertaking, stretched boldly to
the south, and after encountering a succession of tempests in
unknown seas, beheld his labours and perseverance crowned by
the lofty promontory which bounds Africa on that side. To
behold it, was all that the violence of the winds, the shattered
condition of his ships, and the turbulent spirit of his
crew allowed him. The appellation of Cabo Tormentoso, or
Stormy Cape, was expressive of the boisterous elements which
forbade his nearer approach; but on his return the name was
changed, by the discernment of his sovereign, to that of Cape
of Good Hope—the auspicious omen of future success.”—
Hist. of Spain.
“Three perpetual clouds are perceived at night over the
Cape of Good Hope, called by seamen the Cape clouds.”—
Campbell's Travels in Africa.
“In the reign of John II. of Portugal (1484), Bartholomew Diaz, an officer, whose sagacity, experience, and fortitude admirably qualified him for the undertaking, stretched boldly to the south, and after encountering a succession of tempests in unknown seas, beheld his labours and perseverance crowned by the lofty promontory which bounds Africa on that side. To behold it, was all that the violence of the winds, the shattered condition of his ships, and the turbulent spirit of his crew allowed him. The appellation of Cabo Tormentoso, or Stormy Cape, was expressive of the boisterous elements which forbade his nearer approach; but on his return the name was changed, by the discernment of his sovereign, to that of Cape of Good Hope—the auspicious omen of future success.”— Hist. of Spain.
“Three perpetual clouds are perceived at night over the Cape of Good Hope, called by seamen the Cape clouds.”— Campbell's Travels in Africa.
But the ocean's hollow roar,
As it breaks, in foamy mountains,
Along the rugged shore;
That has terror on its wings,
Howls to the startled echo
That through each cavern rings:
Where nought has ever pass'd
But the storm-bird's glittering pinions,
As it whirls amidst the blast—
Beneath that troubled sky,
Frowns the stately Cape of Storms
O'er the drear immensity!
Where captive thunders sleep,
Three huge black clouds for ever
Their dreadful station keep.
Has ever gazed upon—
We have braved the angry spirits,
And our victory is won.
Of a yet unfathom'd sea;
And we bring the prize of glory,
Our country, Spain, to thee!
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