On whose still counsels all his hopes relied,
That Oracle to man in mercy giv’n,
Whose voice is truth, whose wisdom is from heav’n, [e]
Who over sands and seas directs the stray,
And, as with God’s own finger, points the way,
He turn’d; but what strange thoughts perplex’d his soul,
When, lo, no more attracted to the Pole,
The Compass, faithless as the circling vane,
Flutter’d and fix’d, flutter’d and fix’d again;
And still, as by some unseen Hand imprest,
Explor’d, with trembling energy, the West! [Footnote 2]
“Ah no!” he cried, and calm’d his anxious brow. 
“Ill, nor the signs of ill, ’tis thine to show. 
Thine but to lead me where I wish’d to go!”
   COLUMBUS err’d not. [f] In that awful hour,
Sent forth to save, and girt with God-like power,
And glorious as the regent of the sun, [Footnote 3]
An Angel came!  He spoke, and it was done! 
He spoke, and, at his call, a mighty Wind, [g]
Not like the fitful blast, with fury blind,
But deep, majestic, in its destin’d course,
Rush’d with unerring, unrelenting force,
From the bright East.  Tides duly ebb’d and flow’d;
Stars rose and set; and new horizons glow’d;
Yet still it blew!  As with primeval sway,
Still did its ample spirit, night and day,
Move on the waters!—­All, resign’d to Fate,
Folded their arms and sat; and seem’d to wait [h]
Some sudden change; and sought, in chill suspense,
New spheres of being, and new modes of sense;
As men departing, tho’ not doom’d to die,
And midway on their passage to eternity.

[Footnote 1:  The capa is the Spanish cloak.]

[Footnote 2:  Herrera, dec.  I. lib. i. c. 9.]

[Footnote 3:  Rev. xix. 17.]

CANTO II. 
The Voyage continued.

“What vast foundations in the Abyss are there, [i]
As of a former world? [Footnote 1] Is it not where
ATLANTIC kings their barbarous pomp display’d; [k]
Sunk into darkness with the realms they sway’d,
When towers and temples, thro’ the closing wave, [l]
A glimmering ray of antient splendour gave—­
And we shall rest with them.  Arise, behold,
- — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —
We stop to stir no more...nor will the tale be told.” 
The pilot smote his breast; the watch-man cried
“Land!” and his voice in faltering accents died. [m]
At once the fury of the prow was quell’d;
And (whence or why from many an age withheld) [Footnote 2]
Shrieks, not of men, were mingling in the blast;
And armed shapes of god-like stature pass’d! 
Slowly along the evening sky they went,
As on the edge of some vast battlement;
Helmet and shield, and spear and gonfalon
Streaming a baleful light that was not of the sun!