[Footnote 1:  It was afterwards given to Guacanahari.  See F. Col. c. 32.]

[Footnote 2:  Light vessels, formerly used by the Spaniards and Portuguese.]

[Footnote 3:  F. Columbus, c. 23.]

[Footnote 4:  Many such appellations occur in Bernal Diaz. c. 204.]

CANTO V.
The Voyage continued.

Yet who but He undaunted could explore [x]
A world of waves—­a sea without a shore,
Trackless and vast and wild as that reveal’d
When round the Ark the birds of tempest wheel’d;
When all was still in the destroying hour—­
No sign of man! no vestige of his power! 
One at the stern before the hour-glass stood,
As ’twere to count the sands; one o’er the flood
Gaz’d for St. Elmo; [Footnote 1] while another cried
“Once more good morrow!” and sate down and sigh’d. 
Day, when it came, came only with its light. 
Tho’ long invok’d, ’twas sadder than the night! 
Look where He would, for ever as He turn’d,
He met the eye of one that inly mourn’d. 
   Then sunk his generous spirit, and He wept. 
The friend, the father rose; the hero slept. 
PALOS, thy port, with many a pang resign’ d,
Fill’d with its busy scenes his lonely mind;
The solemn march, the vows in concert giv’n, [Footnote 2]
The bended knees and lifted hands to heav’n,
The incens’d rites, and choral harmonies,
The Guardian’s blessings mingling with his sighs;
While his dear boys—­ah, on his neck they hung, [y]
And long at parting to his garments clung. 
   Oft in the silent night-watch doubt and fear
Broke in uncertain murmurs on his ear. 
Oft the stern Catalan, at noon of day,
Mutter’d dark threats, and linger’d to obey;
Tho’ that brave Youth—­he, whom his courser bore
Right thro’ the midst, when, fetlock deep in gore,
The great GONZALO [Footnote 3] battled with the Moor,
(What time the ALHAMBRA shook—­soon to unfold
Its sacred courts, and fountains yet untold,
Its holy texts and arabesques of gold)
Tho’ ROLDAN, [Footnote 4] sleep and death to him alike,
Grasp’d his good sword and half unsheath’d to strike. 
“Oh born to wander with your flocks,” he cried,
“And bask and dream along the mountain-side;
To urge your mules, tinkling from hill to hill;
Or at the vintage-feast to drink your fill,
And strike your castanets, with gipsy-maid
Dancing Fandangos in the chesnut shade—­
Come on,” he cried, and threw his glove in scorn,
“Not this your wonted pledge, the brimming horn. 
Valiant in peace!  Adventurous at home! 
Oh, had ye vow’d with pilgrim-staff to roam;
Or with banditti sought the sheltering wood,
Where mouldering crosses mark the scene of blood!—­”
He said, he drew; then, at his Master’s frown,
Sullenly sheath’d, plunging the weapon down.

[Footnote 1:  A luminous appearance of good omen.]

[Footnote 2:  His public procession to the Convent of Rabida on the day before he set sail.  It was there that his sons had received their education; and he himself appears to have passed some time there, the venerable Guardian, Juan Perez de Marchena, being his zealous and affectionate friend.—­The ceremonies of his departure and return are represented in many of the fresco-paintings in the palaces of Genoa.]